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.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
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.
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