December 17, 2009
Today was my last day of work as a United States Peace Corps volunteer in Turkmenistan.
It definitely hasn’t hit me yet…I knew it was my last English class today, I gave my address to all my students and we hugged and ate cake and took pictures, but it doesn’t quite feel like the end.
Maybe because I’m sticking around for a few extra weeks after my end of service December 23. Maybe when I get in the taxi on January 14 I’ll start freaking out. It’s quite possible.
I can’t believe I did it. Seriously…I can’t believe I did this. I can’t believe I spent 27 months in this country and I’m still alive and well.
I end my Peace Corps experience with the ability to fully communicate in Russian and Turkmen, ten pounds lighter in size, but a hundred pounds heavier in experience.
I end my Peace Corps experience with more parasites than I have ever had in my life, but with less severances than I had before.
I end my Peace Corps experience with a foggy view of the future, but a beautiful picture of my past.
I end Peace Corps a whole lot stronger, with a hell of a wider outlook on life, and a massive Russian pop music collection.
I’m trying to remember the person I was when I left Washington D.C. on October 1, 2007 and it’s hard. It feels like it was a decade ago. I look at photos and see the clothes I wore and how short my hair was and I think wow that’s so weird. I think of my daily activities in the month before I left the US and it’s not comparable to my daily activities here.
It’s just weird.
I end Peace Corps a little freaked out, but I have three more weeks in this desert community to figure it all out.
Friday, December 18, 2009
Vampires!
December 9, 2009
Awhile back some amazing friends of mine sent me the Twilight series, which I quickly discovered is a huge phenomenon in the United States, as the second movie, “New Moon” just came out. I went through the entire book series in about a week and a half and they were quickly sought after (and still are) by other volunteers as well.
But when my students found out that I had all four books it became an obsession.
Classroom chatter erupted with Edward and Bella and how hot he was in the movie and on and on and on.
“Enough!” I yelled at them one day. “The story doesn’t even get interesting until book four when she becomes a vampire, anyway!”
“WHY DID YOU TELL US THAT!!!!!!” they screamed.
“Oops!” I laughed. “Sorry guys, back to work.”
“That was soooooo mean!” they glared at me.
To say they’re obsessed is quite the understatement. When we play around with names someone is always Edward and Bella. Examples in class go back to Edward and Bella. One student even requested I please download some Twilight photos when I go into the city to use the internet.
They seriously can’t get enough.
But yesterday was definitely the kicker.
“Angela, do vampires really exist?” one student asked me. “Maral says they do.”
I looked behind her to see Maral quietly laughing.
“Of course they do! You didn’t know that?” I said.
“What? No…I don’t believe you,” she said.
“Vampires exist everywhere! It’s common knowledge, Jeren.”
“Really?”
“YES! Vampires have existed for thousands of years and will continue to do so. I can’t believe you didn’t know this!”
“But how can it be true?” she asked with wide eyes.
“Vampires are EVERYWHERE. Especially in Turkmeni-“ I couldn’t hold it in any longer and the laugh erupted from inside of me.
“YOU’RE LYING! I KNEW IT!” she yelled.
“I’m sorry!” I laughed. “It was just too good I couldn’t help it.”
Anyone interested in making some vampire-obsessed teenagers smile? Send a copy of “New Moon” to Yoloten. Movie theaters don’t exist out here, but pirated DVDs are always welcome.
Awhile back some amazing friends of mine sent me the Twilight series, which I quickly discovered is a huge phenomenon in the United States, as the second movie, “New Moon” just came out. I went through the entire book series in about a week and a half and they were quickly sought after (and still are) by other volunteers as well.
But when my students found out that I had all four books it became an obsession.
Classroom chatter erupted with Edward and Bella and how hot he was in the movie and on and on and on.
“Enough!” I yelled at them one day. “The story doesn’t even get interesting until book four when she becomes a vampire, anyway!”
“WHY DID YOU TELL US THAT!!!!!!” they screamed.
“Oops!” I laughed. “Sorry guys, back to work.”
“That was soooooo mean!” they glared at me.
To say they’re obsessed is quite the understatement. When we play around with names someone is always Edward and Bella. Examples in class go back to Edward and Bella. One student even requested I please download some Twilight photos when I go into the city to use the internet.
They seriously can’t get enough.
But yesterday was definitely the kicker.
“Angela, do vampires really exist?” one student asked me. “Maral says they do.”
I looked behind her to see Maral quietly laughing.
“Of course they do! You didn’t know that?” I said.
“What? No…I don’t believe you,” she said.
“Vampires exist everywhere! It’s common knowledge, Jeren.”
“Really?”
“YES! Vampires have existed for thousands of years and will continue to do so. I can’t believe you didn’t know this!”
“But how can it be true?” she asked with wide eyes.
“Vampires are EVERYWHERE. Especially in Turkmeni-“ I couldn’t hold it in any longer and the laugh erupted from inside of me.
“YOU’RE LYING! I KNEW IT!” she yelled.
“I’m sorry!” I laughed. “It was just too good I couldn’t help it.”
Anyone interested in making some vampire-obsessed teenagers smile? Send a copy of “New Moon” to Yoloten. Movie theaters don’t exist out here, but pirated DVDs are always welcome.
Saturday, December 05, 2009
Two Weeks
I officially have two more weeks as a Peace Corps Volunteer in Turkmenistan. I arrive in Ashgabat December 20 to begin three days of paperwork and exit interviews and then...the world is mine.
Sitting in class the other day one of my students said, "Angela, what will happen if you leave?"
I couldn't stop laughing. "What do you mean 'IF', Jeren? I can't STAY here. I have to go home."
I made pumpkin pie for my students on Thanksgiving and once again the subject of me leaving was brought up.
"You made this yourself?" one girl asked.
I told her I did.
"See, you can cook! Just stay here and be a gelin!"
I immediately started laughing. "What a GREAT IDEA! Why have I never thought of that before? I could just get married!"
If I had a dollar for every marraige proposal I've received in this country I would never have to work again.
Sitting in class the other day one of my students said, "Angela, what will happen if you leave?"
I couldn't stop laughing. "What do you mean 'IF', Jeren? I can't STAY here. I have to go home."
I made pumpkin pie for my students on Thanksgiving and once again the subject of me leaving was brought up.
"You made this yourself?" one girl asked.
I told her I did.
"See, you can cook! Just stay here and be a gelin!"
I immediately started laughing. "What a GREAT IDEA! Why have I never thought of that before? I could just get married!"
If I had a dollar for every marraige proposal I've received in this country I would never have to work again.
Friday, November 27, 2009
Happy Thanksgiving!
Thanksgiving this year was a huge success, and this is, in my opinion, a hundred percent due to the fact that we did not kill the turkeys ourselves.
I think people forget how much work goes into killing and cleaning and preparing an animal for consumption, but last year the process was excruciating and exhausting. Plucking the feathers off of two seven-kilo turkeys is just NOT FUN.
So even though some people opposed to this idea, I paid a nice old lady about a dollar to kill and clean those suckers for us this year.
It was PERFECT.
We threw some spices on those bad boys, stuck them in the oven and four hours later we were eating some awesome turkey.
Unfortunately to get this deal I had to promise the other volunteers that we'd kill one for Christmas...
It'll be another adventure.
I think people forget how much work goes into killing and cleaning and preparing an animal for consumption, but last year the process was excruciating and exhausting. Plucking the feathers off of two seven-kilo turkeys is just NOT FUN.
So even though some people opposed to this idea, I paid a nice old lady about a dollar to kill and clean those suckers for us this year.
It was PERFECT.
We threw some spices on those bad boys, stuck them in the oven and four hours later we were eating some awesome turkey.
Unfortunately to get this deal I had to promise the other volunteers that we'd kill one for Christmas...
It'll be another adventure.
Friday, November 20, 2009
Rules
In my house we have a few rules…
No one is allowed to touch the water pump except host mom. This is because it’s about a hundred years old and constantly breaks with the slightest misconduct.
Don’t dump the dishwater into the garden. Soap can harm the roses.
Don’t cook eggs in the white pan. Always use a metal one. Don’t ask me about the reasoning behind this rule, I have NO IDEA.
And most importantly:
No one is ever to re-light the fire for the banya heater except host mom. NO ONE.
Unfortunately for me, I’ve broken all of these rules…
It happened last Saturday when no one was home. I was excited and in a hurry to get into Mary City to see my friend Elliott from Lebap. I really wanted to take a shower but when I looked into the hole there was no flame above the gas vent.
What should I do?
The options were simple: Take a lukewarm shower in a slightly cool banya or try and re-light the fire myself and take a warm shower in a nice, warm banya.
I figured it can’t be that hard, so I rolled up some newspaper, turned the gas on, and stuck my arm into the hole.
What happened next left me in a state of shock (and pain) for the next seven hours.
BOOM! The flames burst out of the hole and into me instantly and I fell back in shock. My right arm was stinging in pain and I was covered in black.
It was pretty much the stupidest thing I’ve ever done in my entire life…and I sat and cried as my poor arm soaked in a bucket of cold water.
Finally I wrapped my incinerated arm in wet, cold towels, found a taxi and made him allow me to sit in the front seat with my poor burnt arm hanging out the window all the way to Mary.
“Angela, you need to take better care of yourself,” the driver told me. “Don’t you know you’re supposed to set the flame down, stand back, and then slightly turn the gas up?”
“I do now,” I groaned in pain.
It’s been a week so far and I’ve managed to hide my scarred arm from my host mother but it’s only a matter of time before I’m found out.
Some rules are NOT meant to be broken.
No one is allowed to touch the water pump except host mom. This is because it’s about a hundred years old and constantly breaks with the slightest misconduct.
Don’t dump the dishwater into the garden. Soap can harm the roses.
Don’t cook eggs in the white pan. Always use a metal one. Don’t ask me about the reasoning behind this rule, I have NO IDEA.
And most importantly:
No one is ever to re-light the fire for the banya heater except host mom. NO ONE.
Unfortunately for me, I’ve broken all of these rules…
It happened last Saturday when no one was home. I was excited and in a hurry to get into Mary City to see my friend Elliott from Lebap. I really wanted to take a shower but when I looked into the hole there was no flame above the gas vent.
What should I do?
The options were simple: Take a lukewarm shower in a slightly cool banya or try and re-light the fire myself and take a warm shower in a nice, warm banya.
I figured it can’t be that hard, so I rolled up some newspaper, turned the gas on, and stuck my arm into the hole.
What happened next left me in a state of shock (and pain) for the next seven hours.
BOOM! The flames burst out of the hole and into me instantly and I fell back in shock. My right arm was stinging in pain and I was covered in black.
It was pretty much the stupidest thing I’ve ever done in my entire life…and I sat and cried as my poor arm soaked in a bucket of cold water.
Finally I wrapped my incinerated arm in wet, cold towels, found a taxi and made him allow me to sit in the front seat with my poor burnt arm hanging out the window all the way to Mary.
“Angela, you need to take better care of yourself,” the driver told me. “Don’t you know you’re supposed to set the flame down, stand back, and then slightly turn the gas up?”
“I do now,” I groaned in pain.
It’s been a week so far and I’ve managed to hide my scarred arm from my host mother but it’s only a matter of time before I’m found out.
Some rules are NOT meant to be broken.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Winter Blues
This morning my shampoo was frozen. I had to pour hot water over it to get it to come out of the bottle.
Seriously, it went from jacket and socks weather to heavy coat-scarf-gloves-boot weather in a matter of hours.
I forgot how much I loathed winter.
And I forgot that I threw away my boots last year after they snapped in half.
It’s going to be a long 2 months.
Seriously, it went from jacket and socks weather to heavy coat-scarf-gloves-boot weather in a matter of hours.
I forgot how much I loathed winter.
And I forgot that I threw away my boots last year after they snapped in half.
It’s going to be a long 2 months.
Saturday, November 07, 2009
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Marriage Proposals in Taxis
October 30, 2009
“You’re American!” the man in the front seat of the taxi yelled at my friend Halley and I.
“Yes, that’s right,” we said.
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-five,” Halley said.
“How old do you THINK I am?” I asked with a smile as Halley rolled her eyes.
“Uhhhh…twenty-three?”
“Great job! You’re absolutely correct!” I laughed.
“You’re such a liar,” Halley said in English.
“I have a son!” the man announced. “Let me call him now. Will you meet him?”
“Of course!”
He got on the phone with his son and explained the exciting news: Two American girls were sitting in the backseat of his taxi. Would he meet them? One of them is 23 and looks Turkmen. She has black hair and dark eyes. She’d be perfect for him, and she speaks Turkmen. She already has agreed to marry him.
“Beh!” he said as he got off the phone. “He’s too shy.”
“Awwww, that’s too bad,” I said. “I really wanted to marry him.”
“You’re American!” the man in the front seat of the taxi yelled at my friend Halley and I.
“Yes, that’s right,” we said.
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-five,” Halley said.
“How old do you THINK I am?” I asked with a smile as Halley rolled her eyes.
“Uhhhh…twenty-three?”
“Great job! You’re absolutely correct!” I laughed.
“You’re such a liar,” Halley said in English.
“I have a son!” the man announced. “Let me call him now. Will you meet him?”
“Of course!”
He got on the phone with his son and explained the exciting news: Two American girls were sitting in the backseat of his taxi. Would he meet them? One of them is 23 and looks Turkmen. She has black hair and dark eyes. She’d be perfect for him, and she speaks Turkmen. She already has agreed to marry him.
“Beh!” he said as he got off the phone. “He’s too shy.”
“Awwww, that’s too bad,” I said. “I really wanted to marry him.”
Two Years
October 25, 2009
Twenty five months have passed and I’m still in Turkmenistan.
I never thought I wouldn’t make it, but I didn’t know exactly how it would pan out.
Two years ago I could barely tell you that the weather was crappy. Today I sit with my friends and gossip and share stories and give advice and so on.
Two years ago I was freaking out about being sick and so careful about everything I ate. I complained about food being too oily and made fun of the way Turkmen cooked. Today I couldn’t care less…if it looks good I’ll eat it, and that includes ridiculous amounts of fat.
Two years ago I didn’t understand how people lived without vacuum cleaners. How did they clean their carpets? Today I actually enjoy sweeping the carpet with straw brooms. It really does work.
Two years ago I cried when people made fun of me. Today I laugh with them. They think I’m funny and weird, well I think the same thing about them so who the hell cares?
Two years ago I didn’t understand how delicious tomatoes are. Today I remain obsessed with them and will probably continue to be this way for a long time.
Two years ago I was scared of the bazaar. I didn’t like the way people stared at me and was afraid of asking people how much stuff was for fear of them making fun of me. Today I stroll through the bazaar constantly talking with all the sellers individually because we’ve gotten to know each other so well over the past two years. They tell me what’s just in, what’s freshest, and ask me about other things I bought the previous week.
Two years ago I was afraid of teaching English. I didn’t know what I was doing and was weird and awkward. Today I work with some of the smartest kids I’ve ever met and have worked with them on a huge variety of topics. They have become my light, my life and the reason why I’m here.
Two years went by so fast.
Twenty five months have passed and I’m still in Turkmenistan.
I never thought I wouldn’t make it, but I didn’t know exactly how it would pan out.
Two years ago I could barely tell you that the weather was crappy. Today I sit with my friends and gossip and share stories and give advice and so on.
Two years ago I was freaking out about being sick and so careful about everything I ate. I complained about food being too oily and made fun of the way Turkmen cooked. Today I couldn’t care less…if it looks good I’ll eat it, and that includes ridiculous amounts of fat.
Two years ago I didn’t understand how people lived without vacuum cleaners. How did they clean their carpets? Today I actually enjoy sweeping the carpet with straw brooms. It really does work.
Two years ago I cried when people made fun of me. Today I laugh with them. They think I’m funny and weird, well I think the same thing about them so who the hell cares?
Two years ago I didn’t understand how delicious tomatoes are. Today I remain obsessed with them and will probably continue to be this way for a long time.
Two years ago I was scared of the bazaar. I didn’t like the way people stared at me and was afraid of asking people how much stuff was for fear of them making fun of me. Today I stroll through the bazaar constantly talking with all the sellers individually because we’ve gotten to know each other so well over the past two years. They tell me what’s just in, what’s freshest, and ask me about other things I bought the previous week.
Two years ago I was afraid of teaching English. I didn’t know what I was doing and was weird and awkward. Today I work with some of the smartest kids I’ve ever met and have worked with them on a huge variety of topics. They have become my light, my life and the reason why I’m here.
Two years went by so fast.
Saturday, October 17, 2009
Notebook Crazy
October 15, 09
Last month at our Close of Service conference the topic of readjustment in America was brought up and we all laughed at silly stories that people heard. We had a nice chuckle about the girl who cried when she couldn’t decide which cheesecake to choose at the Cheesecake Factory, and the lady who stood frozen in shock in the produce section at Whole Foods Market.
We’re aware that Americans have gazillions of things to choose from, where as out here your standard product is it, but it’s hard to get the full feeling until you’re in the situation.
“I just don’t see that happening to us,” my friend Halley said.
“I know! I can’t see myself in a situation like that,” I replied. “I mean that’s just weird.”
Then this week I received a package from my fabulous aunts in Ohio full of wonderful surprises. And among the granola bars and instant oatmeal were two composition notebooks. TWO.
I sat on the floor of my room and stared at the notebooks.
One was green, and one was black. Which one did I want for my Russian vocabulary? Green or black?
The green one is more beautiful. But the green notebook was “wide-ruled” and the black notebook was “college ruled”.
Did I want wide-ruled or college ruled? What was better? Wide or College?
Okay, I thought…maybe one has more pages than the other. So I sat there and counted the pages. Both notebooks had 100 pages.
Okay…maybe there’s more lines in the black notebook than the green notebook. So I sat there and counted the lines. The black notebook had 32 and the green had 25.
But the green notebook was “wide-ruled”! Was that better?
Okay…maybe the pages in the green notebook are thinner than the pages in the black notebook.
So I sat there and individually felt the pages in each notebook, trying to decipher if one’s were flimsier than the other.
And then I realized forty minutes had passed and I was crazy.
In the end, the green notebook’s pages really were thinner.
I chose the black one.
Dear America People: when I return to your lovely country, please don’t ask me to make any decisions.
Thanks.
Love, Angela
Last month at our Close of Service conference the topic of readjustment in America was brought up and we all laughed at silly stories that people heard. We had a nice chuckle about the girl who cried when she couldn’t decide which cheesecake to choose at the Cheesecake Factory, and the lady who stood frozen in shock in the produce section at Whole Foods Market.
We’re aware that Americans have gazillions of things to choose from, where as out here your standard product is it, but it’s hard to get the full feeling until you’re in the situation.
“I just don’t see that happening to us,” my friend Halley said.
“I know! I can’t see myself in a situation like that,” I replied. “I mean that’s just weird.”
Then this week I received a package from my fabulous aunts in Ohio full of wonderful surprises. And among the granola bars and instant oatmeal were two composition notebooks. TWO.
I sat on the floor of my room and stared at the notebooks.
One was green, and one was black. Which one did I want for my Russian vocabulary? Green or black?
The green one is more beautiful. But the green notebook was “wide-ruled” and the black notebook was “college ruled”.
Did I want wide-ruled or college ruled? What was better? Wide or College?
Okay, I thought…maybe one has more pages than the other. So I sat there and counted the pages. Both notebooks had 100 pages.
Okay…maybe there’s more lines in the black notebook than the green notebook. So I sat there and counted the lines. The black notebook had 32 and the green had 25.
But the green notebook was “wide-ruled”! Was that better?
Okay…maybe the pages in the green notebook are thinner than the pages in the black notebook.
So I sat there and individually felt the pages in each notebook, trying to decipher if one’s were flimsier than the other.
And then I realized forty minutes had passed and I was crazy.
In the end, the green notebook’s pages really were thinner.
I chose the black one.
Dear America People: when I return to your lovely country, please don’t ask me to make any decisions.
Thanks.
Love, Angela
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Into the Wild
I've been sitting in front of this computer trying to figure out something to write today and nothing's coming to mind.
It could be because my brain is so fried from sleeping outside in the freezing cold mountains in Chuli last night...
Or it could be because of Alp Arslan. It tastes more battery acid than vodka.
What I learned:
Meat from Yimpash really is better
Never even think about camping without an axe
Climbing uphill at 3am with no shoes in the dark is always a bad idea
Smartwool from REI is beyond awesome
Boys fart a lot.
The end.
I'm glad I did it though...my last camping trip in T-tsan, and one of the most memorable ones.
I need a shower like never before.
It could be because my brain is so fried from sleeping outside in the freezing cold mountains in Chuli last night...
Or it could be because of Alp Arslan. It tastes more battery acid than vodka.
What I learned:
Meat from Yimpash really is better
Never even think about camping without an axe
Climbing uphill at 3am with no shoes in the dark is always a bad idea
Smartwool from REI is beyond awesome
Boys fart a lot.
The end.
I'm glad I did it though...my last camping trip in T-tsan, and one of the most memorable ones.
I need a shower like never before.
Friday, October 02, 2009
A Little Help from My Friends
Wednesday was up there with one of the worst days ever out here, and after the day was over, after the taxi pulled into my home, after my day of wandering around Mary City arguing with migration officials about my new visa, getting all my problems straightened out, I needed one thing, and one thing only.
To vent.
So I hurried to the nearest shop, purchased a bag of cookies and two Baltika 5s and showed up to one of my local friend's house with a smile.
"ANGELA!" She said as she opened the door.
"Ohhhhh you are not going to believe my day," I began and we sat and talked and gossiped and after about twenty minutes I felt loads better.
And then I realized something...how incredibly lucky I am that I have friends here, people who I can just sit and talk with about anything and everything for hours.
She may not understand a word of English, and my Russian still blows but the friendship is real.
Man what a crazy week this has been...
What's next?
To vent.
So I hurried to the nearest shop, purchased a bag of cookies and two Baltika 5s and showed up to one of my local friend's house with a smile.
"ANGELA!" She said as she opened the door.
"Ohhhhh you are not going to believe my day," I began and we sat and talked and gossiped and after about twenty minutes I felt loads better.
And then I realized something...how incredibly lucky I am that I have friends here, people who I can just sit and talk with about anything and everything for hours.
She may not understand a word of English, and my Russian still blows but the friendship is real.
Man what a crazy week this has been...
What's next?
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
English Woman Teacher
September 30, 2009
I was correcting one of my student’s notebook’s yesterday during my break and I came across this:
“My an Engish woman teacher Angela
I wanted to describe my an Engish teacher. Her is name Angela. Her is name was named her exactly because she looks like a angel.”
Oh these kids.
I was correcting one of my student’s notebook’s yesterday during my break and I came across this:
“My an Engish woman teacher Angela
I wanted to describe my an Engish teacher. Her is name Angela. Her is name was named her exactly because she looks like a angel.”
Oh these kids.
Saturday, September 19, 2009
Boys Boys Boys
September 17, 2009
“So what’s up with your boyfriend?” I asked my dressmaker tonight.
“He’s dead,” she said.
“WHAT? HE’S DEAD? ARE YOU SERIOUS?”
Everyone in the room started laughing.
“No, he’s probably not really dead,” she said. “He just hasn’t called for three months, which means he’s dead to me.”
“That’s horrible! Well, don’t worry you can do better. In fact I’ll help you!” I said, and started going through all the names of boys I knew in Yoloten.
“What about Ahmed? He has a car and he’s not bad looking,” I asked her.
“Ahmed is MARRIED, Angela!” she said.
“Oh that liar! He told me he was single!” I said angrily.
“Yeah, don’t they all? Eh, I wouldn’t want to marry him anyway, he’s my cousin.”
“Alright I’m going find you an American boyfriend then, okay?”
“Perfect!” She laughed.
Any takers? She’s pretty awesome…
“So what’s up with your boyfriend?” I asked my dressmaker tonight.
“He’s dead,” she said.
“WHAT? HE’S DEAD? ARE YOU SERIOUS?”
Everyone in the room started laughing.
“No, he’s probably not really dead,” she said. “He just hasn’t called for three months, which means he’s dead to me.”
“That’s horrible! Well, don’t worry you can do better. In fact I’ll help you!” I said, and started going through all the names of boys I knew in Yoloten.
“What about Ahmed? He has a car and he’s not bad looking,” I asked her.
“Ahmed is MARRIED, Angela!” she said.
“Oh that liar! He told me he was single!” I said angrily.
“Yeah, don’t they all? Eh, I wouldn’t want to marry him anyway, he’s my cousin.”
“Alright I’m going find you an American boyfriend then, okay?”
“Perfect!” She laughed.
Any takers? She’s pretty awesome…
Saturday, September 05, 2009
Journey to the Caspian Sea
After almost two years of living in this country I finally made it out to the Caspian Sea...Turkmenistan's proud vacation destination.
Yet, being a tourist town in a country that has virtually no tourists can cause a bit of problems...especially if you LIVE here and know that pretty much no citizen of this country can pay these outragous prices.
Example:
"Excuse me," I said politely in Russian to the DJ at the disco on Tuesday night.
"Yes?" he asked.
I smiled sweetly and asked if he had a couple of songs. Naturally "Single Ladies" by Beyonce and "Poker Face" by the one and only Lady Gaga.
We looked through his computer database and found "Poker Face".
"YESSS!" I exclaimed. "Can you please play it for us?"
Keep in mind that this disco is pack full of the following people: Peace Corps volunteers, two Russian prostitutes, and a fat old Russian dude who probably works at the hotel.
"That'll be 50,000 manat," the DJ said. About $3.50.
"Are you freaking out of your mind?" I asked in Russian, again. "You have GOT to be kidding me!"
"That's the price, girl," he said. Literally.
"But that's crazy! This dance floor is only full of Americans! If we leave you'll be playing music for nobody! Why the hell would you charge that much for ONE SONG?"
"It's our rule. That's how it is here," he said rudely.
So of course I decided to boycott the disco after that, but when all my friends were dancing to crappy techno and I was pouting outside, complaining about the dj I realized that I was not making things better.
"THIS IS RIDICULOUS!" I yelled to a random guy outside. I didn't know if he worked there or not, but he looked shady enough so I figured what the hell.
"Talk to that guy then," he said, pointing to another guy with a bad mullet.
I explained my problem, that it was ONE SONG, and he walked with me back to the DJ booth.
"Just play the damn song," he told him.
What I didn't like about Turkmenbashy:
Everything is more expensive
There are absolutely no trees or grass anywhere
Not one single person had change for large bills
Instead of looking for change for large bills, sellers just scoffed in my face and refused transactions
What I loved about Turkmenbashy:
The Caspian Sea is absolutely gorgeous
I could wear a mini skirt and it was no problem
The airport consisted of one x-ray machine, a table, and a couple dudes in uniform.
I'm glad I went though...it was an amazing vacation.
COUNTDOWN: However days from now until December 23-ish. See you soon!
Yet, being a tourist town in a country that has virtually no tourists can cause a bit of problems...especially if you LIVE here and know that pretty much no citizen of this country can pay these outragous prices.
Example:
"Excuse me," I said politely in Russian to the DJ at the disco on Tuesday night.
"Yes?" he asked.
I smiled sweetly and asked if he had a couple of songs. Naturally "Single Ladies" by Beyonce and "Poker Face" by the one and only Lady Gaga.
We looked through his computer database and found "Poker Face".
"YESSS!" I exclaimed. "Can you please play it for us?"
Keep in mind that this disco is pack full of the following people: Peace Corps volunteers, two Russian prostitutes, and a fat old Russian dude who probably works at the hotel.
"That'll be 50,000 manat," the DJ said. About $3.50.
"Are you freaking out of your mind?" I asked in Russian, again. "You have GOT to be kidding me!"
"That's the price, girl," he said. Literally.
"But that's crazy! This dance floor is only full of Americans! If we leave you'll be playing music for nobody! Why the hell would you charge that much for ONE SONG?"
"It's our rule. That's how it is here," he said rudely.
So of course I decided to boycott the disco after that, but when all my friends were dancing to crappy techno and I was pouting outside, complaining about the dj I realized that I was not making things better.
"THIS IS RIDICULOUS!" I yelled to a random guy outside. I didn't know if he worked there or not, but he looked shady enough so I figured what the hell.
"Talk to that guy then," he said, pointing to another guy with a bad mullet.
I explained my problem, that it was ONE SONG, and he walked with me back to the DJ booth.
"Just play the damn song," he told him.
What I didn't like about Turkmenbashy:
Everything is more expensive
There are absolutely no trees or grass anywhere
Not one single person had change for large bills
Instead of looking for change for large bills, sellers just scoffed in my face and refused transactions
What I loved about Turkmenbashy:
The Caspian Sea is absolutely gorgeous
I could wear a mini skirt and it was no problem
The airport consisted of one x-ray machine, a table, and a couple dudes in uniform.
I'm glad I went though...it was an amazing vacation.
COUNTDOWN: However days from now until December 23-ish. See you soon!
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Cross Cultural Exchange
August 20, 2009
As if the Kazakh wedding wasn’t enough celebration for me for one week, I got roped into another birthday party tonight.
I had sworn off liquor after I spent last Sunday vomiting the entire contents of my stomach so I was feeling good when I walked into my dressmaker’s home tonight.
Armed with a coffee cake (they don’t know it’s a breakfast dish in America) I smiled widely and said, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” in Russian.
“Great! You’re here! Go sit down!” she said enthusiastically.
After all of us were seated around the tablecloth on the floor she ran out of the room and returned second later with a huge smile on her face. My stomach turned as I saw she had smuggled in a bottle of vodka.
“My father didn’t see me!” she laughed and winked at me. “It’s my birthday and we’re going to party!”
Ohhhhhhhhh nooooo…I thought. Not again. No more vodka…
To live in a country where it’s incredibly rude to refuse food or drink is usually no problem for me. I typically enjoy eating and have always enjoyed alcohol.
But as the final rounds of toasts were made and my cup sat on the tablecloth unfinished they all pointed at me.
“WHY DIDN’T YOU DRINK?” they said in accusation.
“Okay that’s it!” I yelled. “You’re all pointing at me but look at YOU! You didn’t drink! And neither did you! AND LOOK! Your cup is half-full!” I accused right back at them. “This is NOT FAIR. You guys all like to pick on me because I’m American and it’s easy. But if you’re not drinking, I’M not drinking.”
With that the whole party erupted with laughter and the two girls sitting next to me told me okay, that’s fine. Let’s just take this last one together.
So we did and when the next round of toasts were made I happily raised a glass of Turkmen orange soda.
Sometimes you just have to draw a line.
As if the Kazakh wedding wasn’t enough celebration for me for one week, I got roped into another birthday party tonight.
I had sworn off liquor after I spent last Sunday vomiting the entire contents of my stomach so I was feeling good when I walked into my dressmaker’s home tonight.
Armed with a coffee cake (they don’t know it’s a breakfast dish in America) I smiled widely and said, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” in Russian.
“Great! You’re here! Go sit down!” she said enthusiastically.
After all of us were seated around the tablecloth on the floor she ran out of the room and returned second later with a huge smile on her face. My stomach turned as I saw she had smuggled in a bottle of vodka.
“My father didn’t see me!” she laughed and winked at me. “It’s my birthday and we’re going to party!”
Ohhhhhhhhh nooooo…I thought. Not again. No more vodka…
To live in a country where it’s incredibly rude to refuse food or drink is usually no problem for me. I typically enjoy eating and have always enjoyed alcohol.
But as the final rounds of toasts were made and my cup sat on the tablecloth unfinished they all pointed at me.
“WHY DIDN’T YOU DRINK?” they said in accusation.
“Okay that’s it!” I yelled. “You’re all pointing at me but look at YOU! You didn’t drink! And neither did you! AND LOOK! Your cup is half-full!” I accused right back at them. “This is NOT FAIR. You guys all like to pick on me because I’m American and it’s easy. But if you’re not drinking, I’M not drinking.”
With that the whole party erupted with laughter and the two girls sitting next to me told me okay, that’s fine. Let’s just take this last one together.
So we did and when the next round of toasts were made I happily raised a glass of Turkmen orange soda.
Sometimes you just have to draw a line.
Till Death
August 18, 2009
Love is in the air and now is the best time ever to get married.
The Turkmen government has created a new law that states that any couple who gets married will receive a gift of 16 million manat ($1120).
The downside?
This law also states that any couple who wishes to get divorced must pay a fee of 30 million manat ($2100).
I hope this causes more people to get married. I need more weddings to go to…more excuses to wear my awesome new hot pink dress.
That’s not a misprint guys. HOT PINK. For real.
Pictures coming soon…
Love is in the air and now is the best time ever to get married.
The Turkmen government has created a new law that states that any couple who gets married will receive a gift of 16 million manat ($1120).
The downside?
This law also states that any couple who wishes to get divorced must pay a fee of 30 million manat ($2100).
I hope this causes more people to get married. I need more weddings to go to…more excuses to wear my awesome new hot pink dress.
That’s not a misprint guys. HOT PINK. For real.
Pictures coming soon…
Party Like You’re in K-stan
August 17, 2009
Oh what a weekend…
Saturday was the Kazakh wedding. Two people I barely know were joined together in holy matrimony.
Decked out in a hot pink dress (yes, that’s right guys. HOT PINK) I sat in the corner with some other people I barely knew and toasted with them and swallowed the small shot glass of horrible Turkmen vodka.
And then everything started burning.
I know I was warned about Turkmen vodka before I came here and I usually try to stay away from the benzene-like substances, but I can’t refuse a toast.
Unfortunately I’m so damn polite that I continued to take shot after shot of awful Turkmen vodka and before I knew it I was taken out of the wedding celebration, stumbling through a dirt field and put in my friend’s car to be taken home.
“She’s totally trashed,” they announced to my host mother at the door.
Holy crap, they couldn’t just drop me off and go? Ugh.
“Angela why did you drink so much?” my host mother complained the next day.
“The toasts,” I moaned. “They just kept making me make toasts.”
“Do you know you could hardly walk last night?” I was informed later.
“Oh shut up,” I grumbled. I had just thrown up the entire contents of my stomach and was not in the mood to hear it. “You guys are making this all up.”
NEVER DRINKING AGAIN.
Oh what a weekend…
Saturday was the Kazakh wedding. Two people I barely know were joined together in holy matrimony.
Decked out in a hot pink dress (yes, that’s right guys. HOT PINK) I sat in the corner with some other people I barely knew and toasted with them and swallowed the small shot glass of horrible Turkmen vodka.
And then everything started burning.
I know I was warned about Turkmen vodka before I came here and I usually try to stay away from the benzene-like substances, but I can’t refuse a toast.
Unfortunately I’m so damn polite that I continued to take shot after shot of awful Turkmen vodka and before I knew it I was taken out of the wedding celebration, stumbling through a dirt field and put in my friend’s car to be taken home.
“She’s totally trashed,” they announced to my host mother at the door.
Holy crap, they couldn’t just drop me off and go? Ugh.
“Angela why did you drink so much?” my host mother complained the next day.
“The toasts,” I moaned. “They just kept making me make toasts.”
“Do you know you could hardly walk last night?” I was informed later.
“Oh shut up,” I grumbled. I had just thrown up the entire contents of my stomach and was not in the mood to hear it. “You guys are making this all up.”
NEVER DRINKING AGAIN.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Boredom Sets In
August 11, 2009
Today I started class like any other day.
“Hey everyone! What’s new?”
Silence.
“Alright come on…somebody give me some news. Something. Anything that has happened to you recently.”
Silence.
“DOES NOBODY HAVE ANYTHING TO SAY?” I asked again, exasperated.
“I bought a new pen,” a student said with a smile.
Everyone started laughing immediately and applauding him for his purchase.
“Wow that’s so great!” one student said.
“Congratulations!” another said.
Not a lot to report from Yoloten at the moment…
Today I started class like any other day.
“Hey everyone! What’s new?”
Silence.
“Alright come on…somebody give me some news. Something. Anything that has happened to you recently.”
Silence.
“DOES NOBODY HAVE ANYTHING TO SAY?” I asked again, exasperated.
“I bought a new pen,” a student said with a smile.
Everyone started laughing immediately and applauding him for his purchase.
“Wow that’s so great!” one student said.
“Congratulations!” another said.
Not a lot to report from Yoloten at the moment…
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
DJ Smash Foreva
August 6, 2009
“Angela, did you know who Dima Bilan was before you came here?” my friend asked me the other day.
“Nope,” I replied. “I didn’t have a clue who he was.”
“YOU DIDN’T KNOW WHO DIMA BILAN IS? But how is that possible?”
Seriously, how is that possible? How did I never know the glories of Russian pop music before I came here?
Keep in mind that I have since accumulated the biggest Russian pop music collection out of any other volunteer out here. And don’t get me started on how awesome these music videos are.
What will I do without RUTV in five months?
Maybe I should extend…
“Angela, did you know who Dima Bilan was before you came here?” my friend asked me the other day.
“Nope,” I replied. “I didn’t have a clue who he was.”
“YOU DIDN’T KNOW WHO DIMA BILAN IS? But how is that possible?”
Seriously, how is that possible? How did I never know the glories of Russian pop music before I came here?
Keep in mind that I have since accumulated the biggest Russian pop music collection out of any other volunteer out here. And don’t get me started on how awesome these music videos are.
What will I do without RUTV in five months?
Maybe I should extend…
Nightmares and Cookies
August 5, 2009
My new best friend in Yoloten and I were sitting in her bedroom today talking about superstitions.
“People aren’t superstitious in America?” she asked.
“Ehhh…I guess some are and some aren’t. It’s really not that big of a deal out there.”
She leaned over and asked me if I ever have nightmares. I told her it was pretty rare.
“Whenever I have a nightmare, I go buy a kilo of cookies and give them to children in the streets,” she said. “Then I won’t have any more nightmares.”
“You do WHAT?” I laughed.
“It’s true!” she said. “You don’t believe me?”
I couldn’t stop laughing.
“Oh man I have to write this down. Wait till my friends and family hear this one…”
“Okay,” she said. “Next time you have a nightmare just try it out.”
“Alright, I’ll get back to you on this,” I said, still laughing.
My new best friend in Yoloten and I were sitting in her bedroom today talking about superstitions.
“People aren’t superstitious in America?” she asked.
“Ehhh…I guess some are and some aren’t. It’s really not that big of a deal out there.”
She leaned over and asked me if I ever have nightmares. I told her it was pretty rare.
“Whenever I have a nightmare, I go buy a kilo of cookies and give them to children in the streets,” she said. “Then I won’t have any more nightmares.”
“You do WHAT?” I laughed.
“It’s true!” she said. “You don’t believe me?”
I couldn’t stop laughing.
“Oh man I have to write this down. Wait till my friends and family hear this one…”
“Okay,” she said. “Next time you have a nightmare just try it out.”
“Alright, I’ll get back to you on this,” I said, still laughing.
America! Heck Yeah!
August 5, 2009
Last Friday night on my ride back into the city I was stuck in a taxi full of boys.
“Wait, you’re AMERICAN?” one of the guys in the car asked. “I have a relative who lives in America. He’s a singer! Do you know him?”
The boy was Beluch, from our neighbor to the south in Afghanistan and as great as my Afghan music collection is, I couldn’t say I recognized the singer’s name. I was tired and irritated, and not in the mood to make random conversation.
“Come to the bazaar tomorrow!” the boy said as he was getting off in a small village outside Yoloten.
“Yeah, sure whatever,” I replied. I always tell people I’ll come around and visit after I meet them but it’s all talk and no action. Especially for a Saturday morning. The summer heat really adds to my laziness.
But then the next morning as I was doing my laundry there was a knock on our gate. I opened it up to find my new Beluch friend standing there with a big smile on his face.
“You didn’t come to the bazaar today!” he exclaimed.
How the hell did he find my house? He doesn’t even live in Yoloten.
“Angela, I want to go to America! How can I go?”
Standing there in shorts and a tank top (the most possible inappropriate clothes to be talking to boys in a conservative Muslim country) holding a pile of wet clothes I stared at him in disbelief. Did he really track me down and find my house on a Saturday morning to ask me how he can go to America?
“Uhhh…I’m just an English teacher, dude,” I replied. “I don’t actually work for the consulate and have no freaking clue how you would even begin to do that. I guess you need to apply for a visa or something.”
“I really wanted to see you!” he said. “I want to talk with you! I want to go to America. My relative lives there. He’s a singer!”
“Yes, yes you already told me this. Do you know any English?” I asked politely.
“I can learn English!” he said.
“Well let’s start with that and then work on you getting to America,” I said.
That was five days ago, and he’s proceeded to call me every day since.
“Angela! This is my phone number!” he said the first time he called.
“Yeah okay cool, dude. See ya.”
Two hours later:
“Angela! Do you know who this is?” he asked happily.
“Uhhh…who is this?”
“Hassan! Wait, you didn’t save my number?”
“Okay, okay I’ll save it now,” I said.
One hour later:
“Angela! Do you know who this is?”
“Yes, yes Hassan. I have your number.”
“Great! I really want to go to America!”
Ohhh boy.
“Good luck with that, yo.”
Last Friday night on my ride back into the city I was stuck in a taxi full of boys.
“Wait, you’re AMERICAN?” one of the guys in the car asked. “I have a relative who lives in America. He’s a singer! Do you know him?”
The boy was Beluch, from our neighbor to the south in Afghanistan and as great as my Afghan music collection is, I couldn’t say I recognized the singer’s name. I was tired and irritated, and not in the mood to make random conversation.
“Come to the bazaar tomorrow!” the boy said as he was getting off in a small village outside Yoloten.
“Yeah, sure whatever,” I replied. I always tell people I’ll come around and visit after I meet them but it’s all talk and no action. Especially for a Saturday morning. The summer heat really adds to my laziness.
But then the next morning as I was doing my laundry there was a knock on our gate. I opened it up to find my new Beluch friend standing there with a big smile on his face.
“You didn’t come to the bazaar today!” he exclaimed.
How the hell did he find my house? He doesn’t even live in Yoloten.
“Angela, I want to go to America! How can I go?”
Standing there in shorts and a tank top (the most possible inappropriate clothes to be talking to boys in a conservative Muslim country) holding a pile of wet clothes I stared at him in disbelief. Did he really track me down and find my house on a Saturday morning to ask me how he can go to America?
“Uhhh…I’m just an English teacher, dude,” I replied. “I don’t actually work for the consulate and have no freaking clue how you would even begin to do that. I guess you need to apply for a visa or something.”
“I really wanted to see you!” he said. “I want to talk with you! I want to go to America. My relative lives there. He’s a singer!”
“Yes, yes you already told me this. Do you know any English?” I asked politely.
“I can learn English!” he said.
“Well let’s start with that and then work on you getting to America,” I said.
That was five days ago, and he’s proceeded to call me every day since.
“Angela! This is my phone number!” he said the first time he called.
“Yeah okay cool, dude. See ya.”
Two hours later:
“Angela! Do you know who this is?” he asked happily.
“Uhhh…who is this?”
“Hassan! Wait, you didn’t save my number?”
“Okay, okay I’ll save it now,” I said.
One hour later:
“Angela! Do you know who this is?”
“Yes, yes Hassan. I have your number.”
“Great! I really want to go to America!”
Ohhh boy.
“Good luck with that, yo.”
Exploding Poop
August 2, 2009
This week one of our town watch repairmen decided he was going to paint his shop. Doing what any normal person would do he mixed the paint with benzene and finished the job as he liked.
Not doing what any normal person would do, he decided to dump the remaining benzene he didn’t need down the toilet.
Unfortunately, he later proceeded to smoke a cigarette while using the toilet…forgetting the hole was full of flammable gasoline.
“You could even hear the explosion from my house!” one of my host brother’s friends said. “I live over 200 meters away!”
The poor man suffered from some severe burns but is apparently doing alright.
“Those poor doctors,” my host brother laughed. “Can you imagine how covered in crap he must’ve been when he got to the hospital?”
Word to the wise: Smoking and gasoline don’t mix.
This week one of our town watch repairmen decided he was going to paint his shop. Doing what any normal person would do he mixed the paint with benzene and finished the job as he liked.
Not doing what any normal person would do, he decided to dump the remaining benzene he didn’t need down the toilet.
Unfortunately, he later proceeded to smoke a cigarette while using the toilet…forgetting the hole was full of flammable gasoline.
“You could even hear the explosion from my house!” one of my host brother’s friends said. “I live over 200 meters away!”
The poor man suffered from some severe burns but is apparently doing alright.
“Those poor doctors,” my host brother laughed. “Can you imagine how covered in crap he must’ve been when he got to the hospital?”
Word to the wise: Smoking and gasoline don’t mix.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Just Weird
The hot, desert air smacked me in the face this morning when I stepped off the plane at Ashgabat International Airport and listening to the scattered Russian and Turkmen conversations around me, I felt really comfortable.
The migration officers laughed and joked about how all of us Americans learn Turkmen so well, stamped my passport, and sent me on my way.
The taxi drivers crowded around and I spent five minutes haggling over a good price to get out of there and as we came to a compromise and started joking around, I realized something weird...
This could be the last time I fly into this airport. The next time I pay those terminals a visit will be on my way out of the country for good, in about five months from now.
That's weird.
The migration officers laughed and joked about how all of us Americans learn Turkmen so well, stamped my passport, and sent me on my way.
The taxi drivers crowded around and I spent five minutes haggling over a good price to get out of there and as we came to a compromise and started joking around, I realized something weird...
This could be the last time I fly into this airport. The next time I pay those terminals a visit will be on my way out of the country for good, in about five months from now.
That's weird.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Pineapple, seafood and islands
I love Thailand.
It's definitely my favorite country in the world...after Turkmenistan, of course.
I was recently asked: "Would you rather live in T-stan and go on vacation in Thailand, or live in Thailand and go on vacation to T-stan?"
Turkmenistan is a very special place. I know I joke sometimes about how I wanted Fiji but ended up with T-stan, but it's so unique and incredible I wouldn't trade it for the world.
The reason: The people.
I may not have running water, avocados or seafood products, but I've made connections with people and that's what makes my life so special.
It's definitely my favorite country in the world...after Turkmenistan, of course.
I was recently asked: "Would you rather live in T-stan and go on vacation in Thailand, or live in Thailand and go on vacation to T-stan?"
Turkmenistan is a very special place. I know I joke sometimes about how I wanted Fiji but ended up with T-stan, but it's so unique and incredible I wouldn't trade it for the world.
The reason: The people.
I may not have running water, avocados or seafood products, but I've made connections with people and that's what makes my life so special.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
WHOOPS
Halley and Angela's Vacation Bloopers
What not to do on vacation in SouthEast Asia:
1. Forget your atm pin code
2. Type in the wrong atm pin code too many times so that the card is eaten by the machine.
3. Type in the wrong atm pin code again after the nice Thai lady retrieves the card for you.
4. Have your atm card confiscated by the nice Thai bank lady.
5. Abandon your tour bus because it would be a lot cooler to just find your way to Cambodia on your own
6. Leave your camera in random noodle stands in random villages
7. Accidentally mail all your maps of Thailand in a package home to America.
Southeast Asia is a magical place...
What not to do on vacation in SouthEast Asia:
1. Forget your atm pin code
2. Type in the wrong atm pin code too many times so that the card is eaten by the machine.
3. Type in the wrong atm pin code again after the nice Thai lady retrieves the card for you.
4. Have your atm card confiscated by the nice Thai bank lady.
5. Abandon your tour bus because it would be a lot cooler to just find your way to Cambodia on your own
6. Leave your camera in random noodle stands in random villages
7. Accidentally mail all your maps of Thailand in a package home to America.
Southeast Asia is a magical place...
Thursday, July 09, 2009
Going, Going Gone
I'M GOING TO THAILAND IN THREE DAYS!!!!!!!!!!
WOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Last day of class went something like this:
One student: "Teacher will you come back?"
Me: Maybe...I'll think about it ;)
Another Student: Teacher, will you eat another frog?
Me: I will and I'll bring back one for you too.
Another student: I have two words for you: HARRY POTTER.
Me: Heck YAH!!!!!! Don't worry guys, I'll find it and we'll watch it when I get back. Just don't tell anyone!
My classes are VERY educational ;)
WOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Last day of class went something like this:
One student: "Teacher will you come back?"
Me: Maybe...I'll think about it ;)
Another Student: Teacher, will you eat another frog?
Me: I will and I'll bring back one for you too.
Another student: I have two words for you: HARRY POTTER.
Me: Heck YAH!!!!!! Don't worry guys, I'll find it and we'll watch it when I get back. Just don't tell anyone!
My classes are VERY educational ;)
Journey to Hell
(this should have been posted awhile ago but lack of internet access prevented this)
May 31, 2009
This weekend we took an unforgettable excursion into the heart of the Kara Kum desert to Darvaza, home to a large, fiery gaseous crater otherwise known as “The Pit of Hell”. Years ago when people were drilling for oil it was accidentally lit on fire and remains this way today.
The eight of us piled into two SUVs and headed out into the desert in the scorching heat.
“Can we PLEASE stop at the next shop we see for water?” I asked our driver.
“Sure, no problem!” he said with a smile.
After about 150 kilometers we turned on a small, dirt path.
“Oooooh I hope they have ice cream!” I said. “I really, really want ice cream.”
“I hope they have some cold, bubbly water,” my friend Halley said. “That would be so good right now.”
We stopped in front of a small brown building about the size of a motor home. Two boys that looked about 12 years old sat outside at a small table cluttered with beers and sodas baking in the heat.
“Supermarket!” our driver said, laughing.
“Awwwwwww, man,” we moaned.
We continued on our way through the middle of nowhere, sweating out every drop of water we drank. Our driver turned off at one point to go off the road through the sand in the desert. How he knew this was the turn off point for the Pit of Hell is beyond me. We tumbled through the sand until we stopped at a small hill.
“Wooooooow,” we all said in unison when we saw the crater. The waves of heat came blasting every now again causing us to scream and run away. But overall it was pretty cool.
We set up tents, cooked some food and camped out under the stars by the giant flaming crater. Once night hit, the red glow from the crater was absolutely spectacular.
“Angela, tell everyone to stay at least ten meters back,” our driver told me.
“Sure, no problem!” I said as I ran down to hang out by the flames.
We took turns theorizing what we would do if one of us fell into the pit, compared it to the ending of Lord of the Rings and took a million photos at the crater’s edge by the glow until our driver came running out, yelling at us.
“Angela, I told you to tell them to stay ten meters back!” he yelled.
“Oooooo sorry,” I smiled. It was just too cool.
Later we put on some music, kicked off our shoes and went dancing in the sand. The desert windstorms were overwhelming and insane and the sand was just everywhere. In our food, in our ears, in our water, in our tents…everywhere. Halley and I crashed inside a tent that was almost completely blown over by the wind and woke up completely covered in sand.
Getting back through the sand dunes was harder than getting there, and we found ourselves stuck in the sand. The only way to successfully get through was to back up and go full-speed ahead. We flew through the air and bounded through the sand…it was sort of like that Indiana Jones ride at Disneyland. Our car made it through with minor neck injuries and bruises, but the other car didn’t. When they pulled up we saw that they had crashed pretty hard- the entire front end of the car was bent in and everyone inside was pretty shaken up.
The irony was that they had seatbelts and we didn’t.
Overall everyone was alright and that’s what matters. Minus the accident, the trip was my favorite excursion so far.
How many people can say they’ve been to hell and back, eh?
Friday, June 19, 2009
Summer Nights
June 18, 2009
What is summer in T-stan? Three months of never wearing my hair down, watermelon, swimming, sandals, and loads of ice cream.
Truthfully I can’t complain. It’s hot but I have hats and sunscreen. It’s simple but unique. It’s frustrating but fascinating…
And at night the stars flood the sky and there’s something glorious about the way the moonlight reflects against the Murgap River at night.
Oh those summer nights…
Monday, June 08, 2009
Positively Tactless
June 4, 2009
Tact is something Turkmen people sometimes lack, but it's
something that we learn to deal with out here. Last month I gained two
kilos, putting me back to the same weight I was when I came to this
country, and it did not go unnoticed.
"Angela, you look fat," my host brother's friend said a couple weeks ago.
"WHAAAAA?" I said. I had no words.
"Yeah, are you eating a lot more now?" he ased casually, as if he were
asking about our new sheep or the price of tomatoes at the bazar.
"Uhhhh..." I didn't know what to say.
"I guess you're not on a diet, huh," he said.
"I am now," I muttered.
Today was no exception at the bazar, when the lady I buy bread from
every week patted my stomach and said, "Look how fat the American is
getting!"
"Yeah, yeah," I grumbled.
"We'll still find you a nice Turkmen boy," she said. "Don't worry."
True story.
Tact is something Turkmen people sometimes lack, but it's
something that we learn to deal with out here. Last month I gained two
kilos, putting me back to the same weight I was when I came to this
country, and it did not go unnoticed.
"Angela, you look fat," my host brother's friend said a couple weeks ago.
"WHAAAAA?" I said. I had no words.
"Yeah, are you eating a lot more now?" he ased casually, as if he were
asking about our new sheep or the price of tomatoes at the bazar.
"Uhhhh..." I didn't know what to say.
"I guess you're not on a diet, huh," he said.
"I am now," I muttered.
Today was no exception at the bazar, when the lady I buy bread from
every week patted my stomach and said, "Look how fat the American is
getting!"
"Yeah, yeah," I grumbled.
"We'll still find you a nice Turkmen boy," she said. "Don't worry."
True story.
Friday, May 29, 2009
Two Things
May 28, 2009
Two things I’ve learned this week:
No matter how bad things are, there’s someone else suffering 100 times more than you.
And no matter what, you must always, always, always treat other people how you want to be treated.
I won’t lie…it’s been a rough week. Probably one of the roughest ever in the past year and a half and recent events have even made me consider leaving early…my lack of motivation and increased irritation together have made me not like myself very much this week.
Sometimes I feel .like I just don’t understand anything at all. And I spent a lot of time feeling sorry for myself over the past few days.
Then my host brother got sick and my stupid problems stopped mattering so much. Watching my host mother suffer through this ordeal is enough. I’ve had enough with my crappy attitude.
I am in check…there are more important things to worry about in the world.
Friday, May 22, 2009
Kirk Gyzlar
May 19, 2009
The legend goes like this…
Many years ago forty girls (kirk gyzlar) were doing their laundry at the mouth of this ancient cave in the Koyten Dag Mountains when a group of suitors arrived and began to bother them.
Scared and afraid, they began to pray, asking to please let them disappear. Their prayers were answered and they disappeared into the rocks of the cave.
The water that drips down inside the cave are their tears, mixing in with the mud, creating a clay-like substance on the floor of the cave.
Today travelers from all over the world (myself included) take a strip of material and dip it into the clay. Then they throw the clay-sodden cloth up into the roof and walls of the cave and make a wish.
If your material sticks, your wish will come true…if it doesn’t, it won’t.
Mine stuck. The future awaits…
Journey to the East
May 18, 2009
This weekend I took a trip with a group of friends out to the mountains in the far South-East corner of Turkmenistan, near to the Uzbek-Afghan border, and it was an adventure like no other.
After an hour of haggling with a driver of a beaten up old volkswagon-like van, we began the journey, and all was well until we had to cross the Amu-Darya River. Unfortunately, the main bridge stood uncompleted, and the bridge that was usually trafficked was out of order because the water level was too high. Who would’ve thought that too much rain this season could be a bad thing?
Nevertheless we ended up waiting two hours for a ferry that we thought for sure would never come. When it finally arrived, it all became worth it…watching a small little tug boat pulling along a giant 1960s-era ferry full of trucks, cars, and old Turkmen men who would not stop staring at us was priceless.
We finally got down to the south and began tumbling through the mountains on a somewhat non-existant road which caused me to have Cambodia flashbacks. How that beat up old van made it there and back, I really can’t figure out.
We stopped at a lake to swim for a bit and had an angry encounter with a group of stupid boys. They kept taunting us and one of them covered themselves in mud and came up to me and began talking rudely to me and grabbed my arm, causing us all to start screaming as many rude, obscenities we possibly could in Turkmen.
“We’re so sorry! We’re sorry!” they apologized.
“Don’t talk to me!” I screamed. “Don’t even look at me!”
And I shunned myself back inside the van. I get so frustrated with rude boys out here, it makes my blood boil.
We stopped off to stay the night in a nearby village in the mountains. One of my friends knew someone who knew someone who might be willing to let us stay the night in their house, so we gave it a try. Since there are no phones down there, there was no way for us to call beforehand. Luckily when we showed up they welcomed us warmly, and gave us blankets and a place to sleep. We cooked some potatoes we had bought a local bazaar and slept soundly outside on the balcony surrounded by more grasshoppers than I’d ever seen in my life.
The next day we headed out at 5am to do some hiking in the mountains, and to see the longest set of dinosaur tracks in the world. Truthfully, they were smaller than I thought they’d be, but it was still cool. It’s a wonder why they aren’t better preserved, however.
Later we headed through the mountains to a nearby waterfall that was absolutely gorgeous. We climbed over the rocks and took some fresh mountain water that supposedly had some sort of healing power. Guess we’ll see, right?
We visited a cave called Kirk Gyzlar that was absolutely beautiful. Cloth strips line the walls and ceiling of this place and prayer trees are all over the place. Say a prayer, make a wish, and see if it comes true...
The thing that sort of boggled my mind was watching people, in the open, put graffiti on the walls of these mountains and caves. One man just smiled and laughed as he did it as if it was no big deal. Not cool.
The mountains out there were so gorgeous I truly wished that I could have been sent there instead of Yoloten. I know it would be difficult without a phone, and more difficult being so incredibly far away from the city, but everything was just so natural and so gorgeous.
The best part of being down there was that the people we met seemed to be incredibly happy.
I think that’s why it’s so important to get out and see more things out here, because just one village doesn’t give you a true impression of a place…this country is truly fascinating in every shape and form.
This weekend I took a trip with a group of friends out to the mountains in the far South-East corner of Turkmenistan, near to the Uzbek-Afghan border, and it was an adventure like no other.
After an hour of haggling with a driver of a beaten up old volkswagon-like van, we began the journey, and all was well until we had to cross the Amu-Darya River. Unfortunately, the main bridge stood uncompleted, and the bridge that was usually trafficked was out of order because the water level was too high. Who would’ve thought that too much rain this season could be a bad thing?
Nevertheless we ended up waiting two hours for a ferry that we thought for sure would never come. When it finally arrived, it all became worth it…watching a small little tug boat pulling along a giant 1960s-era ferry full of trucks, cars, and old Turkmen men who would not stop staring at us was priceless.
We finally got down to the south and began tumbling through the mountains on a somewhat non-existant road which caused me to have Cambodia flashbacks. How that beat up old van made it there and back, I really can’t figure out.
We stopped at a lake to swim for a bit and had an angry encounter with a group of stupid boys. They kept taunting us and one of them covered themselves in mud and came up to me and began talking rudely to me and grabbed my arm, causing us all to start screaming as many rude, obscenities we possibly could in Turkmen.
“We’re so sorry! We’re sorry!” they apologized.
“Don’t talk to me!” I screamed. “Don’t even look at me!”
And I shunned myself back inside the van. I get so frustrated with rude boys out here, it makes my blood boil.
We stopped off to stay the night in a nearby village in the mountains. One of my friends knew someone who knew someone who might be willing to let us stay the night in their house, so we gave it a try. Since there are no phones down there, there was no way for us to call beforehand. Luckily when we showed up they welcomed us warmly, and gave us blankets and a place to sleep. We cooked some potatoes we had bought a local bazaar and slept soundly outside on the balcony surrounded by more grasshoppers than I’d ever seen in my life.
The next day we headed out at 5am to do some hiking in the mountains, and to see the longest set of dinosaur tracks in the world. Truthfully, they were smaller than I thought they’d be, but it was still cool. It’s a wonder why they aren’t better preserved, however.
Later we headed through the mountains to a nearby waterfall that was absolutely gorgeous. We climbed over the rocks and took some fresh mountain water that supposedly had some sort of healing power. Guess we’ll see, right?
We visited a cave called Kirk Gyzlar that was absolutely beautiful. Cloth strips line the walls and ceiling of this place and prayer trees are all over the place. Say a prayer, make a wish, and see if it comes true...
The thing that sort of boggled my mind was watching people, in the open, put graffiti on the walls of these mountains and caves. One man just smiled and laughed as he did it as if it was no big deal. Not cool.
The mountains out there were so gorgeous I truly wished that I could have been sent there instead of Yoloten. I know it would be difficult without a phone, and more difficult being so incredibly far away from the city, but everything was just so natural and so gorgeous.
The best part of being down there was that the people we met seemed to be incredibly happy.
I think that’s why it’s so important to get out and see more things out here, because just one village doesn’t give you a true impression of a place…this country is truly fascinating in every shape and form.
Friday, May 08, 2009
Happily Unmarried
May 4, 2009
Sometimes I get so overwhelmed by the questions people ask me that I just start messing around with them.
And it makes me laugh.
Yesterday in a taxi a woman became ecstatic to hear that I was American.
“Are you married?” she asked.
“Nope. Not married. Still waiting for that special someone,” I answered with a smile.
If I had a dollar for every time someone asked me that effin question I would never have to work again for the rest of my life.
“You’re not married? You have to meet my son!” she exclaimed.
“REALLY?” I feigned excitement. “Is he handsome?”
“Ohhh YES! He is sooo handsome! The most handsome boy in Yoloten!”
“OOOOOH! Is he smart?”
“Ohhhh YES! He is so smart! He studied in Turkey for four years!”
“Wow! Really? How old is he?” I asked.
“He’s 28! Just like you! It’s perfect!”
I think she already started planning the wedding in her head.
“Great! Is he rich?” I asked.
And with that she stopped talking for a few seconds and looked at me skeptically.
“Rich?” she asked. “Well you’re American! Don’t you have money?”
Sometimes I get so overwhelmed by the questions people ask me that I just start messing around with them.
And it makes me laugh.
Yesterday in a taxi a woman became ecstatic to hear that I was American.
“Are you married?” she asked.
“Nope. Not married. Still waiting for that special someone,” I answered with a smile.
If I had a dollar for every time someone asked me that effin question I would never have to work again for the rest of my life.
“You’re not married? You have to meet my son!” she exclaimed.
“REALLY?” I feigned excitement. “Is he handsome?”
“Ohhh YES! He is sooo handsome! The most handsome boy in Yoloten!”
“OOOOOH! Is he smart?”
“Ohhhh YES! He is so smart! He studied in Turkey for four years!”
“Wow! Really? How old is he?” I asked.
“He’s 28! Just like you! It’s perfect!”
I think she already started planning the wedding in her head.
“Great! Is he rich?” I asked.
And with that she stopped talking for a few seconds and looked at me skeptically.
“Rich?” she asked. “Well you’re American! Don’t you have money?”
Monday, April 27, 2009
News, News and More News
April 26, 2009
Great news is bouncing all over Yoloten, flying through the skies right now and I am beyond ecstatic.
First of all, I’d like to announce with EXTREME pride that one of my students became a FLEX finalist and will leave at the end of this summer to study for one year in America. FLEX is a program sponsored by the US Embassy that allows hardworking, dedicated students from age 14-17 to do one of their high school years in a small, US town. The goal is for them to learn about US culture and have the unique experience of exchanging cultural information and broadening their horizons.
It’s extremely competitive, thousands apply and there are only about 60 available slots open per year from Turkmenistan.
So when she told me, I was so proud I just about broke down in tears. Sometimes these kids just blow my mind with the things they make possible for themselves.
I went guesting last night in a small village in Murgap, about 40 minutes north of where I live and a young girl I met there told me that my Turkmen was perfect.
“PERFECT.”
I don’t think anyone has ever used that word to describe anything about me before…I gave her a hug because she just about made my entire month.
Speaking of this month, in honor of Earth Day, I have been doing environmentally-themed lessons over the past few weeks and one day we started talking about contamination. One of my students told me that he sometimes sees people cleaning their dead animal carcasses in the canal, a water source for many nearby houses.
I just about threw up thinking about that, but it pushes the point further of why it’s so important to be environmentally friendly.
“Don’t teach your trash to swim!” I yelled at them as they were leaving class.
Then on Earth Day itself we went down to the Murgap River to clean up trash and talk about the ecosystem. I think it was a good experience for them, even though it was kind of gross.
Since my shoes broke on the hillsides of Gushgi last weekend, I took them to the old Russian man who sits in a chair across the street from the park in Yoloten. When I went to pick them up today he smiled a big toothless grin and said, “You have something that’s broken? You take it to me! The only thing that I can’t fix is an airplane!”
Nice sales pitch, eh?.
In other news, spring is in the air and the flowers are flooding Yoloten, bringing a constant smile to my face. I sat outside and ate pistachios all afternoon today and watched my chickens fight with each other.
I’m really glad we don’t have turkeys.
The Storm from Hell
April 20, 2009
Today started out as any other typical day in Yoloten…beautiful sunny skies, warm weather, etc.
I wandered through the bazaar wearing jeans, a t-shirt and flip flops, buying tomatoes and looking for some cheap apples.
Then, all of a sudden, I looked up at the sky. It was dark brown.
I turned in the other direction and within two minutes a powerful gust of wind came sweeping through, knocking over the sellers’ products and causing a massive panic.
It didn’t stop.
The wind came rolling through, more powerful than I’ve ever experienced before and the sellers started screaming, grabbing their things as fast as they could.
I turned to go back to the street to find my way home and the rain had already started, but it was unlike any other rain I had ever experienced. It pelted down viciously and turned to hail in less than a few minutes.
I was completely soaked, so I just started running.
I wasn’t the only one…everyone was running for cover, running for their homes, running somewhere to get out of this madness.
The electricity was out the entire day and parts of the roof came falling off. Some people lost their entire roofs, and the trees remain overturned in the streets.
Rumor has it that there will be another storm this week. I don’t know what’s up with this weather, but it’s been pretty insane out here…
The Journey to the Border
April 19, 2009
After waiting weeks and weeks for a visa, we finally got permission to go down South to the Afghan border, and it was every bit as gorgeous as we thought it would be.
The hillsides of Serhetabat (Gushgi) are just covered in flowers, so many that all you see for miles are splotches of red, yellow and purple.
We hopped on a train early Friday morning, paid about 70 cents for the seven hour journey (the train always takes ridiculously longer) and plastered our faces to the window to see the beauty of this country that only a small handful of other Americans have ever seen.
About an hour before we arrived we were hauled into a separate compartment to be interrogated by a couple detectives.
“Why are you here? What are you doing here?” they demanded.
We gave them everything- our passports, identification cards, the address and phone number where we were staying, etc. but they were still skeptical.
“Are you going to Afghanistan?” they asked repeatedly.
“NO!” we replied. Why would I willingly stumble over the border? Doesn’t exactly seem like a fun adventure…
But after about 20 minutes or so we became friends. It also helped that they were friends with the husband of who we were staying with.
“We’ll show you the best restaurant in town!” one of them said excitedly once we arrived.
We spent two days wandering around, taking a gazillion photos with the multitudes of flowers. Up on top of a hillside a group of Afghan train mechanics pointed to the border.
“It’s right there!” they said. “You want to go?”
Was this a trick question?
As school kids learned there were four Americans in their tiny military town they began to swarm us. Some of them didn’t understand our Turkmen at all, which was interesting.
We accidentally wandered onto a military base and a group of officers started yelling in Turkmen. We could understand everything they said though, which was funny- “Who speaks English? You- go talk to those Americans! Talk to them in English! Tell them they can’t be here!”
A young officer came over to us and talked nervously. “Excuse me. What are you doing here?”
Then at night a large storm hit briefly and all the power went out. I’ll never forget how amazing the sky looked that night- just completely full of stars forever and ever.
The next day we met a dude named Begmurat who said he’d take us all the way back to Yoloten and stop wherever we wanted along the way..and that’s exactly what we did. Begmurat became our new best friend running through the flowers with us, helping us take photos and find mushrooms. They’re totally not poisonous here (I hope- I eat them all the time) and they grow all over after the rain.
We wandered through the caves of Ekedeshik at Tagtabazar on the way home- a settlement that wasn’t discovered until about 1885, although no one knows exactly how far they date back. The caves extend about 35 km but only part is safe for people to wander around in. Begmurat came with us and kept cracking ridiculous jokes like, “here’s where the disco was, guys!” or “here’s where they had a swimming pool!”
Oh what a funny dude he was.
We ate ice cream and stopped off the side of the road where a group of beekeepers kept their bees. I was surprised how calm I was surrounded by millions of bees…Begmurat wore a net.
We made it home in about 3 hours total, less than half the time it took by train, and collapsed at the local Yoloten bar to drink some really gross beer…although I’ve gotten used to it, really.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Food, Wonderful Food
I had intestines for dinner two days ago.
I can still taste the cow stomach in my mouth.
I miss shrimp burritos.
I can still taste the cow stomach in my mouth.
I miss shrimp burritos.
Angels in the Bank
March 27, 2009
Bad news: I ran out of money...
It happens sometimes (I make about $120 a month) but this time I didn't have dollars to change. So I was about to depend on friends when I decided to try an experiement.
Our bank in Mary City has a lovely little "Mastercard" symbol on the front door. Now, signs here don't really mean much- I know this. But regardless, I waltzed inside to see if I could actually try to use the "atm".
But when I got in, the sweet lady behind the counter told me that my salary had come a week early. I was super excited and she started the necessary paperwork to get it together but unfortunately at that time they were out of currency.
So I went to the next window and pulled out my Mastercard.
"Mastercard?" the other lady said in wonder. "Hmmm...."
She opened up a cabinet and took out a credit card machine that had never been used before.
"Angela, you're the first person to ever do this!" she said with excitement. They tried hooking up the machine and turning it on, but they couldn't get it to work. I watched for the next forty minutes as they tried different outlets, plugs and attempted to call Ashgabat for help.
"Really, it's no big deal if it doesn't work," I said.
"No we want to learn this!" they replied.
But finally they gave up. It just wasn't happening, and I thanked them for trying.
"Wait, Angela," they said, as they turned around to shuffle through their bags. And then they proceeded to do the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me here. They took out their own money and gave it to me.
"No, I can't take this!" I said.
"It's fine!" the ladies said, smiling. "We'll just replace it tomorrow when the money comes. You have no money! What will you do without money?"
They actually gave me my salary from their own pockets.
And so it goes, I met some real-life angels in a bank in Mary City. The beauty in the people here never ceases to amaze me.
Bad news: I ran out of money...
It happens sometimes (I make about $120 a month) but this time I didn't have dollars to change. So I was about to depend on friends when I decided to try an experiement.
Our bank in Mary City has a lovely little "Mastercard" symbol on the front door. Now, signs here don't really mean much- I know this. But regardless, I waltzed inside to see if I could actually try to use the "atm".
But when I got in, the sweet lady behind the counter told me that my salary had come a week early. I was super excited and she started the necessary paperwork to get it together but unfortunately at that time they were out of currency.
So I went to the next window and pulled out my Mastercard.
"Mastercard?" the other lady said in wonder. "Hmmm...."
She opened up a cabinet and took out a credit card machine that had never been used before.
"Angela, you're the first person to ever do this!" she said with excitement. They tried hooking up the machine and turning it on, but they couldn't get it to work. I watched for the next forty minutes as they tried different outlets, plugs and attempted to call Ashgabat for help.
"Really, it's no big deal if it doesn't work," I said.
"No we want to learn this!" they replied.
But finally they gave up. It just wasn't happening, and I thanked them for trying.
"Wait, Angela," they said, as they turned around to shuffle through their bags. And then they proceeded to do the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me here. They took out their own money and gave it to me.
"No, I can't take this!" I said.
"It's fine!" the ladies said, smiling. "We'll just replace it tomorrow when the money comes. You have no money! What will you do without money?"
They actually gave me my salary from their own pockets.
And so it goes, I met some real-life angels in a bank in Mary City. The beauty in the people here never ceases to amaze me.
Monday, March 23, 2009
Toyly Bolsun!
The past few weeks at my house have been incredibly hectic, with my host cousin getting married this weekend, and in all honesty, I spent most of the time being irritated by the whole process. I mean, it was so much work, there was so much hoopla over these insignificant details and I just wasn't into dealing with it at all.
But on the day of the wedding celebration I found that I was actually jealous, and I even started to cry a little watching her dance with her new husband.
All those little insignificant details, and all the fuss and hoopla the families went through and everything was actually so beautiful. Here this woman is so tightly surrounded by family and so loved and cared for in every possible way. The culture here is incredibly rich and all these things I see as silly and unimportant actually hold meaning that I can't really understand.
The morning after the first celebration we all met up at her house as she began to dress in the traditional bridal clothing. She wept as the woman braided her hair, covered her head and face and laid the traditional bridal coat around her, because this is the time when she would be taken from her own family to begin a new life with her husband's family.
When the groom's family arrived, a few boys began to play the drums and clarinet outside and a bunch of us women stood guard at the entrance to her room. The bride's brother came through and gave us all money as payment for us to allow them to get through the door to take her away. We began loading all her things into the cars, and then her new husband came through to take her away.
We all headed into Ashgabat that afternoon for the second celebration in the evening. Here is where they signed the official documents and toasted to the beginning of their new lives together. She looked so incredible...so beautiful. I can't imagine how she felt during this time because I barely had a chance to talk with her.
But I understand a little bit better, because here is a close friend of mine, someone I've grown to know and love for the past year and a half. And now she is gone, and I don't know how often I'll get to see her again over my remaining eight months here.
I don't know why I never saw the true beauty in life here...I don't know why I complain so much sometimes. But I do believe people here are luckier than they really know.
But on the day of the wedding celebration I found that I was actually jealous, and I even started to cry a little watching her dance with her new husband.
All those little insignificant details, and all the fuss and hoopla the families went through and everything was actually so beautiful. Here this woman is so tightly surrounded by family and so loved and cared for in every possible way. The culture here is incredibly rich and all these things I see as silly and unimportant actually hold meaning that I can't really understand.
The morning after the first celebration we all met up at her house as she began to dress in the traditional bridal clothing. She wept as the woman braided her hair, covered her head and face and laid the traditional bridal coat around her, because this is the time when she would be taken from her own family to begin a new life with her husband's family.
When the groom's family arrived, a few boys began to play the drums and clarinet outside and a bunch of us women stood guard at the entrance to her room. The bride's brother came through and gave us all money as payment for us to allow them to get through the door to take her away. We began loading all her things into the cars, and then her new husband came through to take her away.
We all headed into Ashgabat that afternoon for the second celebration in the evening. Here is where they signed the official documents and toasted to the beginning of their new lives together. She looked so incredible...so beautiful. I can't imagine how she felt during this time because I barely had a chance to talk with her.
But I understand a little bit better, because here is a close friend of mine, someone I've grown to know and love for the past year and a half. And now she is gone, and I don't know how often I'll get to see her again over my remaining eight months here.
I don't know why I never saw the true beauty in life here...I don't know why I complain so much sometimes. But I do believe people here are luckier than they really know.
Friday, March 13, 2009
Bread and Butter
March 12, 2009
Last night my friend and I were laying on the floor of my room going through the People magazines my mother recently sent and we started talking about her birthday next week.
We went through the list of food we would make and discussed what other things we’d put out for people to eat.
“I will get some nuts and raisins for the table,” she said.
“Why don’t we just put out some bread and butter for everyone? That’s simple enough.”
“Bread and butter!” She exclaimed. “BREAD AND BUTTER?”
And she then proceeded to burst into uncontrollable laughter.
“What?” I asked. “Why is that funny?”
“BREAD AND BUTTER!”
She wouldn’t stop laughing.
“WHY IS THAT FUNNY?” I yelled.
“You eat bread and butter for BREAKFAST, Angela! Not at dinner!”
“What? You can’t eat bread and butter with your dinner? We do that all the time in America. It’s NORMAL.”
She was still laughing.
“Ohhhhhh they would just laugh at me and gossip about me if I were to put out bread and butter at my BIRTHDAY dinner!”
“IT’S NORMAL!” I yelled.
“You are so strange,” she said.
“I’M STRANGE?” I exclaimed. “You think I’M the one who’s strange? You guys sweep your carpet and sleep on the floor! You think if I sit on cold ground I’ll become infertile! And you think I’M strange?”
We were laughing so hard tears were streaming out of our eyes at this point.
“Okay, Angela what else? What else you got?” she asked. “Come to my house and we will have a birthday BREAKFAST with bread and butter if you like!”
“IT’S NORMAL TO EAT BREAD AND BUTTER WITH YOUR DINNER!”
“You are so strange,” she said.
Friday, March 06, 2009
Kids on Coffee!
If you love me you'll send me coffee.
Real coffee. You know, the ground stuff that you have to put in a filter...
Oh coffee...sweet wonderful coffee...
Real coffee. You know, the ground stuff that you have to put in a filter...
Oh coffee...sweet wonderful coffee...
Friday, February 20, 2009
Rainbows and Butterflies
I really want a shrimp burrito right now.
It's all I can think about.
This week I was convinced I had appendicitis.
Don't worry, people. I do not, in fact, have appendicitis.
I have mid-service-itis...
On the positive side, I successfully started teaching with other teachers this week, and I found cream cheese in Yoloten. It's incredibly expensive, and not so often that the shop has it, but oh so delicious.
I also successfully cooked chicken tiki masala. Who's jealous out there, hmmm?
My boots are completely broken and I had to throw them away. Hopefully it won't snow next December before I vacate this magical world. Let's keep hope alive, guys!
My host cousin is getting married March 20 and it's the most exciting event of my Peace Corps experience, so far...the family is coming this weekend to pay the bride price. I'm making two cakes. Mmmmm....
My students have been coming to my lessons for over a year now, and their English has had incredible improvement. Students who could barely tell me their name are talking about fairness and idioms, etc.
I kind of don't want to leave, but we'll see how I feel in a few months. Spring is a glorious time for Turkmenistan...rainbows and butterflies everywhere.
It's all I can think about.
This week I was convinced I had appendicitis.
Don't worry, people. I do not, in fact, have appendicitis.
I have mid-service-itis...
On the positive side, I successfully started teaching with other teachers this week, and I found cream cheese in Yoloten. It's incredibly expensive, and not so often that the shop has it, but oh so delicious.
I also successfully cooked chicken tiki masala. Who's jealous out there, hmmm?
My boots are completely broken and I had to throw them away. Hopefully it won't snow next December before I vacate this magical world. Let's keep hope alive, guys!
My host cousin is getting married March 20 and it's the most exciting event of my Peace Corps experience, so far...the family is coming this weekend to pay the bride price. I'm making two cakes. Mmmmm....
My students have been coming to my lessons for over a year now, and their English has had incredible improvement. Students who could barely tell me their name are talking about fairness and idioms, etc.
I kind of don't want to leave, but we'll see how I feel in a few months. Spring is a glorious time for Turkmenistan...rainbows and butterflies everywhere.
Friday, February 13, 2009
Mutton for Breakfast
Yesterday I bit into a nice fatty piece of mutton while I was eating my oatmeal for breakfast.
It was the fourth most disgusting thing that's happened to me here.
I don't get it...why can't shops keep meats and grains separate? Is it that hard?
Sooooo gross....
It was the fourth most disgusting thing that's happened to me here.
I don't get it...why can't shops keep meats and grains separate? Is it that hard?
Sooooo gross....
Thursday, January 29, 2009
My Toilet is Cooler Than Your Toilet
January 28, 2009
It takes less than four hours to have a new toilet.
I know this because we now have a new toilet.
It’s actually a very simple process…fill in one hole, dig another, pop that outhouse on top of the new hole and ba-BAM! New toilet paradise.
Naturally my pampered mind immediately thought of those shiny porcelain things we have in America when my host mother told me we had a new toilet.
But I came back to reality real quick. It’s a beautiful thing- hardly any smell, less flies, and better yet- no spashback worries!
If that isn’t good news, I don’t know what is.
It takes less than four hours to have a new toilet.
I know this because we now have a new toilet.
It’s actually a very simple process…fill in one hole, dig another, pop that outhouse on top of the new hole and ba-BAM! New toilet paradise.
Naturally my pampered mind immediately thought of those shiny porcelain things we have in America when my host mother told me we had a new toilet.
But I came back to reality real quick. It’s a beautiful thing- hardly any smell, less flies, and better yet- no spashback worries!
If that isn’t good news, I don’t know what is.
Halfway There
January 22, 2009
I should be beaming with pride right now because I have officially made it through one full year of service as a United States Peace Corps Volunteer in Turkmenistan.
But I’m kind of freaking out.
I have only eleven months left to get done everything I need to get done in order to prove my time here successful.
And I don’t know if I can do it.
My goals for Peace Corps Turkmenistan 2009 (in no particular order):
-Finish the Turkmen-Russian-English cookbook
-Write a grant for the printing costs of the cookbook
-Have a successful book club (IN PROGRESS, WOOOOOO!)
-Bring my intermediate students to the advanced level
-See at least one advanced student get into a university (I know this is out of my hands, but it would be awesome…simply awesome)
-Draw a world map with my students
-Write a grant for a dvd player for my school
-Score Intermediate High in Russian on the Language Proficiency Test
-Score Advanced Mid in Turkmen on the Language Proficiency Test
-Take the GREs and score well
-Apply to grad school
-Figure out what the heck I’m going to do with the rest of my life
One year has past and at this time last year I was a scared new volunteer, freezing in cheap Talkuchka boots not really sure what I was doing here.
A year later, I’m no longer scared, the Talkuchka boots have completely snapped on the bottom allowing muddy water to seep into my socks, and I’m not unsure what I’m doing here…only of how to accomplish everything that needs to be done.
Just a few more weeks of winter...
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Home Sweet Home
Twenty-f0ur hours ago I was sitting on the steps of the Taj Mahal.
I am now in Ashgabat eating leftover naan from last night's dinner.
Vacation was awesome, but it's good to be back, as always.
2009 is going to be a very promising year.
I am now in Ashgabat eating leftover naan from last night's dinner.
Vacation was awesome, but it's good to be back, as always.
2009 is going to be a very promising year.
Friday, January 09, 2009
Goa to Delhi
Thirty-two hours on the train...
11 cups of masala chai...
9 card games...
eight samosas...
six different types of curry...
four bowls of rice...
Three good friends...
Two books...
One stupid man who wouldn't stop touching my feet...
zero blankets...
zero heat.
I will never, ever complain about the trains in Turkmenistan again.
11 cups of masala chai...
9 card games...
eight samosas...
six different types of curry...
four bowls of rice...
Three good friends...
Two books...
One stupid man who wouldn't stop touching my feet...
zero blankets...
zero heat.
I will never, ever complain about the trains in Turkmenistan again.
Monday, January 05, 2009
Beautiful Goa
After lying on the beach sipping pina coladas all afternoon yesterday I asked my sweet Indian waiter for my bill.
He smiled and started writing on a small piece of paper, then turned and handed it to me.
"Here is your bill," he said.
I looked at the paper and smiled. It said, "I love you so much. You have such a beautiful smile. Please come back for drinks later and don't ever stop smiling."
Unfortunately I didn't have time to return in the evening, but I will someday. I promise.
I really love it here.
He smiled and started writing on a small piece of paper, then turned and handed it to me.
"Here is your bill," he said.
I looked at the paper and smiled. It said, "I love you so much. You have such a beautiful smile. Please come back for drinks later and don't ever stop smiling."
Unfortunately I didn't have time to return in the evening, but I will someday. I promise.
I really love it here.
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