I have been back in the USA for three weeks now and it has been a strange experience.
I had forgotten about things like traffic, high-speed internet and large selections of salad dressings in supermarkets.
Truthfully it hasn't been easy...I keep in contact with my friends and family in Turkmenistan, but of course it isn't the same. We talk about what I've missed over the past two months and laugh about how I am forgetting my language skills.
But every time I go to a yoga class, concert, or book shop out here, I remind myself that this is where I need to be.
So what's next? After a nice break at my parent's house in Los Angeles I am moving back up to San Francisco.
I think about Turkmenistan every day, but life goes on, and hopefully someday in the future I will be able to return.
Showing posts with label peace corps. Show all posts
Showing posts with label peace corps. Show all posts
Tuesday, March 09, 2010
Monday, January 25, 2010
Wild in the Streets
Ten hours after leaving T-stan:
I arrive in Bangkok and wander around for two hours trying to find a place to stay. I guess it's the high season.
Eight hours after arriving in Vietnam:
I am attacked by a dog and he bites my ankle. Don't worry, I've had three different rounds of rabies vaccinations...no symptoms yet.
Two hours later:
I fall into a swamp.
The next day:
A 15 km trek through the jungle of Cat Ba Island off the coast of North Vietnam...quite similar to Pandora but we only saw one monkey and no Navi
Two days later:
We're flooded out of Hanoi. The rain is coming down so hard and I am a happy bubble of warmth inside a big, blue poncho.
A few days after that:
Roaming around Hoi An, Vietnam I run into a Russian/Israeli/Australian/French dude and we immediately start babbling on and on in Russian about the greatness of Central Asian food.
And I am immediately homesick for plov but grateful to be able to have this weird thing in common with another person out here on the coast of Vietnam.
Next stop: Laos
I arrive in Bangkok and wander around for two hours trying to find a place to stay. I guess it's the high season.
Eight hours after arriving in Vietnam:
I am attacked by a dog and he bites my ankle. Don't worry, I've had three different rounds of rabies vaccinations...no symptoms yet.
Two hours later:
I fall into a swamp.
The next day:
A 15 km trek through the jungle of Cat Ba Island off the coast of North Vietnam...quite similar to Pandora but we only saw one monkey and no Navi
Two days later:
We're flooded out of Hanoi. The rain is coming down so hard and I am a happy bubble of warmth inside a big, blue poncho.
A few days after that:
Roaming around Hoi An, Vietnam I run into a Russian/Israeli/Australian/French dude and we immediately start babbling on and on in Russian about the greatness of Central Asian food.
And I am immediately homesick for plov but grateful to be able to have this weird thing in common with another person out here on the coast of Vietnam.
Next stop: Laos
Friday, January 15, 2010
Good Bye
I knew it was coming but wasn't sure how I'd feel leaving Turkmenistan.
I spent the last few days rigorously saying my good-byes, but not really feeling the blow just yet.
The night before I left Yoloten I had dinner at my best friend in Yoloten's house and we hugged each other and cried and made plans to hopefully see each other again and never lose contact.
I visited some students right before leaving Yoloten and we hugged and I promised to help them with anything I possibly could in the future.
And standing at the airport with my friends, we stood there and cried and held each other and promised to never forget.
And I sat on the plane continuously calling and texting random friend and family, still saying good-bye.
As the plane started moving the tears started flowing uncontrollably and I couldn't believe I was actually leaving.
I'll never forget.
The past two years have been the best two years of my life.
I spent the last few days rigorously saying my good-byes, but not really feeling the blow just yet.
The night before I left Yoloten I had dinner at my best friend in Yoloten's house and we hugged each other and cried and made plans to hopefully see each other again and never lose contact.
I visited some students right before leaving Yoloten and we hugged and I promised to help them with anything I possibly could in the future.
And standing at the airport with my friends, we stood there and cried and held each other and promised to never forget.
And I sat on the plane continuously calling and texting random friend and family, still saying good-bye.
As the plane started moving the tears started flowing uncontrollably and I couldn't believe I was actually leaving.
I'll never forget.
The past two years have been the best two years of my life.
Hollywood in Yoloten
January 11, 2010
Random people have been telling me for weeks that something was going to happen today, but I didn't quite know what. My students told me specifically:
Make sure Monday January 11 you are free from 3:00 until 10:00. Be at home and await instructions.
"Angela did you know there's going to be a party for you at the disco on Monday night?" a friend of mine told me last night.
"Ahhhh...so it's at the disco..." I said with a smile. It's hard to keep secrets in such a small town.
At about 4:30 a student showed up with a piece of paper with instructions: Do you think California is the only place for Hollywood? Well you're wrong! Follow the arrows throughout our lovely town to find Yoloten's own Hollywood
So a few other volunteers and I wandered through the streets following the arrows that they had strategically posted and then when we arrived at the park two of them jumped out of a nearby car and kidnapped me. We drove around the block until we got to the door of the disco where all my students screamed "SURPRISE!"
It was incredible...they made a Hollywood-themed party and named it the Yoloten Angels Awards.
Throughout the disco they hung their projects from the past two years...the posters they made for Earth Day, the vision boards they made for their future, etc.
They presented everyone with different awards for the work they did throughout the past two years, and throughout the awards they did different songs and dances. It was absolutely INCREDIBLE.
I can't even describe how much time and effort those kids put into that party. They said they'd been working on it for over two months, practicing dance routines, etc.
At the end they presented me with my award: 'Best Angel'.
It was the most fantastic night... one that will live in my memory forever.
Random people have been telling me for weeks that something was going to happen today, but I didn't quite know what. My students told me specifically:
Make sure Monday January 11 you are free from 3:00 until 10:00. Be at home and await instructions.
"Angela did you know there's going to be a party for you at the disco on Monday night?" a friend of mine told me last night.
"Ahhhh...so it's at the disco..." I said with a smile. It's hard to keep secrets in such a small town.
At about 4:30 a student showed up with a piece of paper with instructions: Do you think California is the only place for Hollywood? Well you're wrong! Follow the arrows throughout our lovely town to find Yoloten's own Hollywood
So a few other volunteers and I wandered through the streets following the arrows that they had strategically posted and then when we arrived at the park two of them jumped out of a nearby car and kidnapped me. We drove around the block until we got to the door of the disco where all my students screamed "SURPRISE!"
It was incredible...they made a Hollywood-themed party and named it the Yoloten Angels Awards.
Throughout the disco they hung their projects from the past two years...the posters they made for Earth Day, the vision boards they made for their future, etc.
They presented everyone with different awards for the work they did throughout the past two years, and throughout the awards they did different songs and dances. It was absolutely INCREDIBLE.
I can't even describe how much time and effort those kids put into that party. They said they'd been working on it for over two months, practicing dance routines, etc.
At the end they presented me with my award: 'Best Angel'.
It was the most fantastic night... one that will live in my memory forever.
Twenty five dolla make you Holla
January 9, 2010
Turkmenistan is, overall, an extremely safe country. With the exception of a few insane taxi rides and an unpleasant incident with my banya gas heater, I have never felt my life was in immediate danger.
Turkmen people are, for the most part, extremely gentle and that's one thing I love the most about being here.
Yet today, five days before my departure, I had an encounter unlike any other. I was in a city about 45 minutes north of Yoloten and I got in a taxi heading home. Unfortunately, when we stopped in Turkmengala, fifteen minutes away from Yoloten, everyone else in the taxi got out.
"Are you still going to Yoloten?" I asked.
"Yes," he said. "We'll just wait for more people to come."
And then he looked at me long and hard and asked me where I was from. I told him I was from the America and he proceeded to stare at me.
"You are SO beautiful," he said. "I really, REALLY like you."
And he continued to stare at me and tell me how much he liked me, making no effort at all whatsoever to find other clients for his taxi.
"Uhhhh...okay dude are you going to Yoloten or what?" I asked.
"I really, REALLY like you," he said. "Can I kiss you?"
"NO!!!!!" I yelled. "If you're not going to Yoloten, then just tell me so I can find someone else!"
"I'll go, I'll go," he said. But he continued to stare at me. "I really, REALLY like you."
He reached over to the glove compartment and pulled out some money. About 25 dollars worth of manat. He leaned over and handed me the money.
"This is for you," he said. "I really, REALLY like you."
I immediately freaked out.
"WHY are you giving me this money!?!" I screamed at him. "WHY!"
"Because I REALLY like you," he said with a creepy smile.
"I do NOT want your money!" I yelled and threw it back at him. Luckily at that moment a bus going to Yoloten pulled up to the taxi stand. I jumped out of the car and headed toward the bus.
"Wait, you didn't pay me for the taxi ride!" he yelled.
"YOU are an asshole and you should be ashamed of yourself," I said to him in English as I shoved my taxi fare at him.
"But I don't know English," he said.
"Oh, go to hell," I replied.
Turkmenistan is, overall, an extremely safe country. With the exception of a few insane taxi rides and an unpleasant incident with my banya gas heater, I have never felt my life was in immediate danger.
Turkmen people are, for the most part, extremely gentle and that's one thing I love the most about being here.
Yet today, five days before my departure, I had an encounter unlike any other. I was in a city about 45 minutes north of Yoloten and I got in a taxi heading home. Unfortunately, when we stopped in Turkmengala, fifteen minutes away from Yoloten, everyone else in the taxi got out.
"Are you still going to Yoloten?" I asked.
"Yes," he said. "We'll just wait for more people to come."
And then he looked at me long and hard and asked me where I was from. I told him I was from the America and he proceeded to stare at me.
"You are SO beautiful," he said. "I really, REALLY like you."
And he continued to stare at me and tell me how much he liked me, making no effort at all whatsoever to find other clients for his taxi.
"Uhhhh...okay dude are you going to Yoloten or what?" I asked.
"I really, REALLY like you," he said. "Can I kiss you?"
"NO!!!!!" I yelled. "If you're not going to Yoloten, then just tell me so I can find someone else!"
"I'll go, I'll go," he said. But he continued to stare at me. "I really, REALLY like you."
He reached over to the glove compartment and pulled out some money. About 25 dollars worth of manat. He leaned over and handed me the money.
"This is for you," he said. "I really, REALLY like you."
I immediately freaked out.
"WHY are you giving me this money!?!" I screamed at him. "WHY!"
"Because I REALLY like you," he said with a creepy smile.
"I do NOT want your money!" I yelled and threw it back at him. Luckily at that moment a bus going to Yoloten pulled up to the taxi stand. I jumped out of the car and headed toward the bus.
"Wait, you didn't pay me for the taxi ride!" he yelled.
"YOU are an asshole and you should be ashamed of yourself," I said to him in English as I shoved my taxi fare at him.
"But I don't know English," he said.
"Oh, go to hell," I replied.
Monday, January 04, 2010
Still in the Kara Kum
Everyone makes fun of me for staying a few extra weeks after my Peace Corps Close of Service (COS) but I don't care.
These last few weeks have been fantastic...I've had time to get TWO more dresses made, I've reconnected with local friends I hadn't seen in a long time, and it gave me time to get one last round of parasites in my belly.
I have ten days, and a long list of things that have to get done before I leave this country, and I don't know if I'll make it, but like every year, I resolve to be more organized. Yes, my American friends and family, I know you're laughing hysterically at this.
My students continually come by my house to talk, hang out, ask for help with some random thing, etc, and as the days go by, I'm beginning to freak out a little bit more.
Ten more days...
These last few weeks have been fantastic...I've had time to get TWO more dresses made, I've reconnected with local friends I hadn't seen in a long time, and it gave me time to get one last round of parasites in my belly.
I have ten days, and a long list of things that have to get done before I leave this country, and I don't know if I'll make it, but like every year, I resolve to be more organized. Yes, my American friends and family, I know you're laughing hysterically at this.
My students continually come by my house to talk, hang out, ask for help with some random thing, etc, and as the days go by, I'm beginning to freak out a little bit more.
Ten more days...
Happy Birthday to Me
December 30, 2009
Having a birthday so close to New Year’s Eve definitely has more minuses than pluses but over the years I’ve gotten used to it.
Yet this year was pretty cool.
I was in the kitchen preparing food for tonight and my host sister was outside sweeping, cleaning up for the guests that were coming in another two hours.
All of a sudden we heard a gigantic BOOM! And a firecracker landed in our yard, followed by another one. My poor host sister freaked out and threw open the gate to yell at whoever was doing this, only to be met with all my students singing at the top of their lungs, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!!!!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!”
I ran out of the kitchen and my host sister was laughing so hard she was crying; it was absolutely hilarious. They brought cakes and cookies and presents and it was so incredibly sweet.
What a great birthday
Having a birthday so close to New Year’s Eve definitely has more minuses than pluses but over the years I’ve gotten used to it.
Yet this year was pretty cool.
I was in the kitchen preparing food for tonight and my host sister was outside sweeping, cleaning up for the guests that were coming in another two hours.
All of a sudden we heard a gigantic BOOM! And a firecracker landed in our yard, followed by another one. My poor host sister freaked out and threw open the gate to yell at whoever was doing this, only to be met with all my students singing at the top of their lungs, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!!!!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!”
I ran out of the kitchen and my host sister was laughing so hard she was crying; it was absolutely hilarious. They brought cakes and cookies and presents and it was so incredibly sweet.
What a great birthday
Eat FRESH!
December 26, 2009
Christmas 2009.
Scene: My friend Dan and I have just killed a chicken for dinner. Well, he did the actual killing since I’m a girl I’m forbidden to end the life of an animal. I’m pouring boiling water over the carcass and plucking out the feathers.
“Man, this takes FOREVER! I swear Turkmen are so good at this,” I complained. “When my relatives from the village do this it only takes them like, ten minutes.”
“Well, think of it this way,” Dan said. “They’d probably have a really tough time ordering a Subway sandwich.”
True that.
Christmas 2009.
Scene: My friend Dan and I have just killed a chicken for dinner. Well, he did the actual killing since I’m a girl I’m forbidden to end the life of an animal. I’m pouring boiling water over the carcass and plucking out the feathers.
“Man, this takes FOREVER! I swear Turkmen are so good at this,” I complained. “When my relatives from the village do this it only takes them like, ten minutes.”
“Well, think of it this way,” Dan said. “They’d probably have a really tough time ordering a Subway sandwich.”
True that.
Friday, December 18, 2009
The End of an Era
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.
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.
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?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
