21. Angela’s Ashes by Frank McCourt
My mother read this book several years ago, but as strange as it is to say, this Irish-American only read Angela’s Ashes for the first time a couple of weeks ago. I think what was great about this story was that it was both about the unique Irish experience and the universal struggle against poverty. McCourt’s book also offers a powerful indictment of the forces that conspire to keep people in poverty, even more potent because he does it without hitting you over the head. He does not point out the corrupt government workers who demean those who come to ask for charity or the cruel priests who refuse to admit into their school the those that need it the most. Rather, McCourt simply tells his story and allows the reader to see how often the forces of the church and the state often join forces to oppress the very people they are supposed to be helping. Ultimately however, it is a story of great courage, of what is possible if you are willing to go for it, and perhaps to those of us that are more fortunate, the question of why have we not done more?
22. Dreams From My Father by Barak Obama
23. The Audacity of Hope by Barak Obama
I read these two books pretty much back to back, and while many people have said that his second book, the Audacity of Hope, is better due to Obama’s maturation as a both a statesman and a writer, I think that I actually like the first book more. Everyone has tried to understand their parents are, not just in relation to ourselves but also as individuals, though this is undoubtedly more difficult when the parent is not there. This search for knowledge and connection with another part of his family mirrored Obama’s more personal search for a fulfilling life and career.
Still, even if I liked Dreams of My Father a little bit more, Audacity of Hope was still and excellent book. The book is a powerful political treatise about what needs to be done n our country and how Obama intends to accomplish these goals. His political opponents may claim that he is inexperienced or naïve, but then I guess so am I as well as the several million other people who have found in his rhetoric a clear path to change and a better America.
24. The Things They Carried by Tim O’Brien
The Things They Carried is an interesting book that is both a collection of short stories and a memoir. The meaning of the title is two-fold. First, it refers to those objects, both mundane and significant, that O’Brien and his fellow soldiers carried with them during their service in Vietnam, and secondly it refers to the emotional and psychological damage that O’Brien and the other survivors carry with them. My favorite story was the one about O’Brien came to the army. He talks about he was set against the war and seriously considered going to Canada when he was drafted, but in the end he decided to serve anyway because he was more afraid of shaming himself and his family than losing his life for a cause he did not support or understand. Our country is now engaged in a similar military debacle, although at least service in this one is voluntary. Still, reading O’Brien’s book is great for not only getting a clearer picture of the Forgotten Generation, but also for gaining understanding about what members of my own generation are experiencing during their wartime service.
25. The Pig Did It by Joseph Caldwell
26. Oil by Upton Sinclair
Not many books written on such a specific subject retain their timelessness and authority. For example, The Jungle, another of Sinclair’s works, no longer packs quite the punch that it used to thanks to the efforts of the FDA. Oil however, remains just as interesting and relevant today as it did when it was first published. Unfortunately, this timelessness is due as much to the lack of progress in the Oil/Energy Industry as Sinclair’s writing. The book starts off a little slow, mostly because the main character, Bunny, is so milquetoast and wishy-washy, but eventually he does get a backbone when faced with financial and physical costs of his father’s work and the mind-blowing fact that in certain cases more money was spent on the drilling than the oil was worth. What was great about the book however, was that Sinclair did not focus solely on the industry, he also examined the complicity of those that lived off the earnings. Sinclair shows just how far into politics and society the oil man can reach, and why it will prove so difficult to remove him from our system so that we can make progress on alternative energy sources.
27. Imperial Life in the Emerald City by Rajiv Chandrasekara
28. Apples Are From Kazakhstan by Christopher Robbins
In one of the most interesting travel guides I’ve ever read, Robbins goes all over Kazakhstan to see some of its most important sites and examine Kazakshtan’s lost past, its present, and its uncertain future. Most of the book is a very clear and rational examination of the country and its people, but after he begins to travel with the president he clearly loses some objectivity in regards to the political and education systems of Kazakhstan. For example, he praises the country’s nearly 99% literacy and high number of students who complete secondary school, but he declines to mention that cheating in school is widespread or that bribes on big exams or for diplomas are still fairly common. Still, the picture he draws of Kazakhstan as the birthplace of apples and legendary horsemen is fascinating and makes me want to explore my new home even more.
пятница, 27 июня 2008 г.
понедельник, 16 июня 2008 г.
Summer Vacation Pt. 1
June 16, 2008
I know that it has been a long time between updates, but I hope that these recent posts will satisfy. For the last two weeks I have been working at a summer camp in Alga, a small village in the northwest of Kazakhstan that is located near the city of Aktobe. The weather was wonderful, and the people very friendly, but unfortunately internet was scarce, so I had to wait until I returned to the big city of Kyzylorda before I could share my experiences.
The camp was great because it was a kind of reunion for my training group. Two of our friends from other sites came down to Kyzylorda first, and then the four of us went together to Alga. The train ride was hell. We were in Platzcar because it was cheaper, but this turned out to be a mistake. Our window would not go down so we just lay there and baked for nineteen hours, all while being stared at by every other occupant of the car. Seriously, I think sweated for at least twelve hours straight before nighttime finally brought relief. Eventually though, we made up to Alga where our friend Emiko was their to meet us with her counterpart Roman. The sanitorium we would be staying at was not quite ready yet so we first went to Emiko’s house to shower and have tea. A big bonus was that Emiko had somehow made Chocolate Chip cookies that unfortunately disappeared within three hours. We were soon settled in the sanitorum, and then were given the grand tour of the village that took all of 45 minutes. The school that Emiko works at was very nice, and conveniently located, and while it was definitely not the social scene that Kyzylorda was, Alga had everything that was necessary, including a rather nice bakery. The next day was Sunday, and it was the day we were to meet our host country counterparts and begin preparations for lessons. My counterpart was named Larissa, a middle aged Russian woman who was very friendly but not very active in planning or in class. At first I thought that maybe this was because she did not like me or that her English was bad, but I eventually found out that neither was the case. Rather, she simply wanted a native speaker to do most of the talking and enjoyed seeing what a young person like myself could come up with. The camp began that Monday with an opening ceremony and presentations by the volunteers. I was obligated to perform my fake Irish jig and fortunately no one was the wiser, and we also performed some demonstrations about the sports we would teach the kids during the subsequent two weeks. We then got together in homerooms, made introductions and chose which countries we wanted to be for the next two weeks. The kids at first were more inclined towards Canada, but I was able to convince them that Ireland was cooler, and they quickly became very nationalistic Orangemen.
The camp days were very long and tiring, but a lot of fun. Every morning we taught two hours of English class followed by two hours of American sports and games. All of us volunteers quickly found our niche. Some found a home making friendship bracelets, others teaching kickball. I myself, became head dodgeball instructor and spent the last two weeks happily instructing the students on the finer points of Battleball and teaching them how to properly use your shoulder to throw the power ball. Unfortunately, as good as my students did in class, they did not earn that many points in the competition for points, and so at the end of the two weeks we found ourselves near the bottom in the Camp Olympics. Still, I was very proud of my kids, who not only made a great deal of progress in class, but were also very enthusiastic about being Team Ireland. Besides teaching the students we were also expected to spend some one on one time with our counterparts after lunch. Most of this was spent lesson planning, but we also gave presentations on games and activities and instructed some of them on the use of the communicative teaching method. We also usually found ourselves busy in the evenings as well, either with pick up basketball games or Konocks at Emiko’s parent’s and counterpart’s house. Thus, when bedtime finally arrived I slept like a log.
Still, the vacation was not all work. Over the weekend we got to go into the city of Aktobe, which like Kyzylorda is an oil town, only even more so due to its proximity to the big oil fields in the northwest. While in many ways it has a similar appearance to Kyzylorda, it definitely was a lot bigger and we had to take the bus almost everywhere we went because the distances were so great.
Eventually however, the camp came to an end I was sorry that it would mean saying goodbye to all of my friends and all of my students. Still, parting was not too bad, because I know that I will see them again soon. On the 26th I am going to head up to Ust-Komen where we are all getting together again for another camp, and afterwards there might even be an opportunity for us to do some responsibility free sightseeing around Kazakhstan. Also, I must admit that I was a little homesick for Kyzylorda towards the end, and I was happy to see my desert outpost again when I got off the train yesterday. I stepped off the train, breathed in the scorching hot air, began to sweat like crazy and realized that a great summer was only beginning.
I know that it has been a long time between updates, but I hope that these recent posts will satisfy. For the last two weeks I have been working at a summer camp in Alga, a small village in the northwest of Kazakhstan that is located near the city of Aktobe. The weather was wonderful, and the people very friendly, but unfortunately internet was scarce, so I had to wait until I returned to the big city of Kyzylorda before I could share my experiences.
The camp was great because it was a kind of reunion for my training group. Two of our friends from other sites came down to Kyzylorda first, and then the four of us went together to Alga. The train ride was hell. We were in Platzcar because it was cheaper, but this turned out to be a mistake. Our window would not go down so we just lay there and baked for nineteen hours, all while being stared at by every other occupant of the car. Seriously, I think sweated for at least twelve hours straight before nighttime finally brought relief. Eventually though, we made up to Alga where our friend Emiko was their to meet us with her counterpart Roman. The sanitorium we would be staying at was not quite ready yet so we first went to Emiko’s house to shower and have tea. A big bonus was that Emiko had somehow made Chocolate Chip cookies that unfortunately disappeared within three hours. We were soon settled in the sanitorum, and then were given the grand tour of the village that took all of 45 minutes. The school that Emiko works at was very nice, and conveniently located, and while it was definitely not the social scene that Kyzylorda was, Alga had everything that was necessary, including a rather nice bakery. The next day was Sunday, and it was the day we were to meet our host country counterparts and begin preparations for lessons. My counterpart was named Larissa, a middle aged Russian woman who was very friendly but not very active in planning or in class. At first I thought that maybe this was because she did not like me or that her English was bad, but I eventually found out that neither was the case. Rather, she simply wanted a native speaker to do most of the talking and enjoyed seeing what a young person like myself could come up with. The camp began that Monday with an opening ceremony and presentations by the volunteers. I was obligated to perform my fake Irish jig and fortunately no one was the wiser, and we also performed some demonstrations about the sports we would teach the kids during the subsequent two weeks. We then got together in homerooms, made introductions and chose which countries we wanted to be for the next two weeks. The kids at first were more inclined towards Canada, but I was able to convince them that Ireland was cooler, and they quickly became very nationalistic Orangemen.
The camp days were very long and tiring, but a lot of fun. Every morning we taught two hours of English class followed by two hours of American sports and games. All of us volunteers quickly found our niche. Some found a home making friendship bracelets, others teaching kickball. I myself, became head dodgeball instructor and spent the last two weeks happily instructing the students on the finer points of Battleball and teaching them how to properly use your shoulder to throw the power ball. Unfortunately, as good as my students did in class, they did not earn that many points in the competition for points, and so at the end of the two weeks we found ourselves near the bottom in the Camp Olympics. Still, I was very proud of my kids, who not only made a great deal of progress in class, but were also very enthusiastic about being Team Ireland. Besides teaching the students we were also expected to spend some one on one time with our counterparts after lunch. Most of this was spent lesson planning, but we also gave presentations on games and activities and instructed some of them on the use of the communicative teaching method. We also usually found ourselves busy in the evenings as well, either with pick up basketball games or Konocks at Emiko’s parent’s and counterpart’s house. Thus, when bedtime finally arrived I slept like a log.
Still, the vacation was not all work. Over the weekend we got to go into the city of Aktobe, which like Kyzylorda is an oil town, only even more so due to its proximity to the big oil fields in the northwest. While in many ways it has a similar appearance to Kyzylorda, it definitely was a lot bigger and we had to take the bus almost everywhere we went because the distances were so great.
Eventually however, the camp came to an end I was sorry that it would mean saying goodbye to all of my friends and all of my students. Still, parting was not too bad, because I know that I will see them again soon. On the 26th I am going to head up to Ust-Komen where we are all getting together again for another camp, and afterwards there might even be an opportunity for us to do some responsibility free sightseeing around Kazakhstan. Also, I must admit that I was a little homesick for Kyzylorda towards the end, and I was happy to see my desert outpost again when I got off the train yesterday. I stepped off the train, breathed in the scorching hot air, began to sweat like crazy and realized that a great summer was only beginning.
How to Survive a Kazak Dinner Party
June 5, 2008
I have talked about going to parties before in other posts, but I do not think that I have gone into enough detail to give a true picture of the fascinating social institution that is the Kazak dinner party. Kazak dinner parties are also known as Konocks or Dasterhans because Konock is the Kazak word for guest and Dasterhan is Kazak for table cloth or spread. These parties always follow the same formula. The first course is the salad, which is usually my favorite because there are at least three different kinds, and you are guaranteed to have fresh vegetables other than potatoes. This is followed by the main course which is usually either Beshparmak or Plov. Then, there is sometimes a short break for digestion and to clean the table before tea with desserts and fruit. Of course, it would not be a Kazak party if drinking was not involved. Throughout the dinner, eating is occasionally interrupted by a series of toasts, and these toasts can really lengthen the evening because every person has to give one. Like the dinner party itself, toast giving is pretty formulaic. You thank the host, offer him general wishes for good health and happiness, tell everyone that you are drinking for friendship or peace, etc. and then take a shot of vodka. If you have a good toast master that keeps things moving along, toasting can be kind of fun, but it can be real stressful when you are still learning Kazak and struggling to come up with something original to say, a process made even more difficult if your toast comes late in the festivities. Also, guests are often expected to give some sort of performance like singing a song or maybe even dancing. After everyone has toasted and had enough chai the meal draws to a close, but not before the oldest male guest at the table has performed the prayer. Even then, the party is not necessarily over, and many konocks are followed by dancing in the living room or even in some cases, Karaoke.
Having laid out the general formula then I offer the following advice for surviving the Kazak dinner party.
1. Skip lunch. You will eat so much food at the Kazak dinner party that not only will you make up for not eating earlier, but you might not even need breakfast the next day. Not only are the main courses gigantic, but there are tons of other things to nibble on throughout the evening, like nuts, salads, cheeses, meats, and fruits so I guarantee that you will be full.
2. Eat a lot. Do not worry about eating too much, the food is delicious, healthy, and you can always go to the gym tomorrow. Furthermore, your host will continuously tell you to eat, eat, and you risk hurting their feelings if you do not. Finally, the fuller the stomach the less likely you are to get embarrassingly drunk of the seven or eight shots you will be expected to take.
3. Learn a little Kazak. Even if you are fluent in Russian, Kazak toasts need to be made in Kazak. You do not need to learn that much though. As I mentioned, toasts are formulaic and going with the standard often goes over a lot better than trying to speak from the heart.
4. Have a talent
As I mentioned before, guests are often expected to sing or offer some other entertainment, and it is best if that skill is genuine. For example, last week in Alga, my so-called friends told everyone that I could do an Irish jig, and so I was then obligated to perform a farcical imitation. Fortunately, thanks to the fact that they had never seen the genuine article, and their belief that everyone of Irish ancestry knows how to do it, my Kazak audience bought it hook, line, and sinker. Still, it would have been much better if I could actually perform the real dance, or if, like one of the other volunteers in attendance, I could sing beautiful Kazak and Russian songs.
I hope people find it helpful, even if they might never have need for it. Hopefully though, you will have the chance to put it into use, because while the toasting can be tedious, the food is delicious, and the Konock or Dasterhan is one of the most interesting and important cultural experiences to be had in Kazakhstan.
I have talked about going to parties before in other posts, but I do not think that I have gone into enough detail to give a true picture of the fascinating social institution that is the Kazak dinner party. Kazak dinner parties are also known as Konocks or Dasterhans because Konock is the Kazak word for guest and Dasterhan is Kazak for table cloth or spread. These parties always follow the same formula. The first course is the salad, which is usually my favorite because there are at least three different kinds, and you are guaranteed to have fresh vegetables other than potatoes. This is followed by the main course which is usually either Beshparmak or Plov. Then, there is sometimes a short break for digestion and to clean the table before tea with desserts and fruit. Of course, it would not be a Kazak party if drinking was not involved. Throughout the dinner, eating is occasionally interrupted by a series of toasts, and these toasts can really lengthen the evening because every person has to give one. Like the dinner party itself, toast giving is pretty formulaic. You thank the host, offer him general wishes for good health and happiness, tell everyone that you are drinking for friendship or peace, etc. and then take a shot of vodka. If you have a good toast master that keeps things moving along, toasting can be kind of fun, but it can be real stressful when you are still learning Kazak and struggling to come up with something original to say, a process made even more difficult if your toast comes late in the festivities. Also, guests are often expected to give some sort of performance like singing a song or maybe even dancing. After everyone has toasted and had enough chai the meal draws to a close, but not before the oldest male guest at the table has performed the prayer. Even then, the party is not necessarily over, and many konocks are followed by dancing in the living room or even in some cases, Karaoke.
Having laid out the general formula then I offer the following advice for surviving the Kazak dinner party.
1. Skip lunch. You will eat so much food at the Kazak dinner party that not only will you make up for not eating earlier, but you might not even need breakfast the next day. Not only are the main courses gigantic, but there are tons of other things to nibble on throughout the evening, like nuts, salads, cheeses, meats, and fruits so I guarantee that you will be full.
2. Eat a lot. Do not worry about eating too much, the food is delicious, healthy, and you can always go to the gym tomorrow. Furthermore, your host will continuously tell you to eat, eat, and you risk hurting their feelings if you do not. Finally, the fuller the stomach the less likely you are to get embarrassingly drunk of the seven or eight shots you will be expected to take.
3. Learn a little Kazak. Even if you are fluent in Russian, Kazak toasts need to be made in Kazak. You do not need to learn that much though. As I mentioned, toasts are formulaic and going with the standard often goes over a lot better than trying to speak from the heart.
4. Have a talent
As I mentioned before, guests are often expected to sing or offer some other entertainment, and it is best if that skill is genuine. For example, last week in Alga, my so-called friends told everyone that I could do an Irish jig, and so I was then obligated to perform a farcical imitation. Fortunately, thanks to the fact that they had never seen the genuine article, and their belief that everyone of Irish ancestry knows how to do it, my Kazak audience bought it hook, line, and sinker. Still, it would have been much better if I could actually perform the real dance, or if, like one of the other volunteers in attendance, I could sing beautiful Kazak and Russian songs.
I hope people find it helpful, even if they might never have need for it. Hopefully though, you will have the chance to put it into use, because while the toasting can be tedious, the food is delicious, and the Konock or Dasterhan is one of the most interesting and important cultural experiences to be had in Kazakhstan.
воскресенье, 1 июня 2008 г.
Birthdays and Changes
May 26, 2008
I used to think, as many people probably do, that turning twenty-three is nothing special. After all, no milestone like the right to vote or to purchase alcohol accompanies a person’s twenty-third birthday. However, I have recently decided that the twenty-third birthday has been grossly undervalued and that it might actually be the most important birthday of all. A person’s twenty-third year is usually the first time that they really do anything that is unique or expresses their individuality. In America at least, learning to drive, voting, and even graduating from high school are all achievements that are based on societal expectation rather than personal choice or ambition. At twenty-three however, people truly begin to live their own lives. They decide what it is they want to do and set out to do it. Whether that means entering the workforce or going onto graduate school, the choice is one’s own.
You may disagree with my argument for the importance of the twenty-third birthday, but I would just like to say that for me it probably was one of most important and fun birthdays I have ever had. First, it was celebration of my first major individualistic decision of my adult life, joining the Peace Corps. This was also, the first time that I have ever celebrated my birthday outside of the United States or away from my parents. Fortunately however, I was able to celebrate with twelve of my newest best friends, both volunteers and host country nationals, and my Kazak host family. My birthday marked nearly six months at site, and looking around the table I realized how lucky I was to have so many local friends and such an awesome host family. My family held a traditional Kazak dastarhan/birthday party with lots of food, including Zhanat Apa’s monte and toasting. Then I found out that my friends had dedicated a music video to me on the local television station. On purpose, they had chosen my least favorite Kazak song, but I was still touched. Also, I know that in four months I will have my chance for revenge.
As I mentioned previously, turning twenty-three has brought with it a major change. I am now living by myself! Last Monday I agreed to rent this very nice two-room apartment about six blocks from my college and I moved in yesterday. This is the first time that I have really lived by myself. I have to admit that at first I was a little worried about moving out. I was a little concerned about upsetting my host family, but my biggest worry was definitely about food. I am glad to say however, that my worries have so far proven to be unfounded. I have so far successfully made both stir-fry and Denver omelets, and am beginning to feel much more confident around the kitchen. The apartment itself is beautiful. I really lucked out. I have two rooms of a four-bedroom apartment because the landlady lives in Astana and uses the other two rooms as storage, but still it is a really great situation. The rooms are big and well kept and I even have a washing machine. In fact, the only real drawback is water. Due to the state of the infrastructure in Kyzylorda and the fact that I live on the third floor apartment I only get water between 11:00 PM-1:00 AM and then from 6:30AM-9:30 AM, so I keep several five gallon jugs for the other times. Unfortunately, this lack of water means that my washing machine is useless most of the time, but I have gotten it to work a few times. So friends, if you are in the neighborhood please drop by, my couch is very comfortable and you can tell me what you think about my cooking.
I used to think, as many people probably do, that turning twenty-three is nothing special. After all, no milestone like the right to vote or to purchase alcohol accompanies a person’s twenty-third birthday. However, I have recently decided that the twenty-third birthday has been grossly undervalued and that it might actually be the most important birthday of all. A person’s twenty-third year is usually the first time that they really do anything that is unique or expresses their individuality. In America at least, learning to drive, voting, and even graduating from high school are all achievements that are based on societal expectation rather than personal choice or ambition. At twenty-three however, people truly begin to live their own lives. They decide what it is they want to do and set out to do it. Whether that means entering the workforce or going onto graduate school, the choice is one’s own.
You may disagree with my argument for the importance of the twenty-third birthday, but I would just like to say that for me it probably was one of most important and fun birthdays I have ever had. First, it was celebration of my first major individualistic decision of my adult life, joining the Peace Corps. This was also, the first time that I have ever celebrated my birthday outside of the United States or away from my parents. Fortunately however, I was able to celebrate with twelve of my newest best friends, both volunteers and host country nationals, and my Kazak host family. My birthday marked nearly six months at site, and looking around the table I realized how lucky I was to have so many local friends and such an awesome host family. My family held a traditional Kazak dastarhan/birthday party with lots of food, including Zhanat Apa’s monte and toasting. Then I found out that my friends had dedicated a music video to me on the local television station. On purpose, they had chosen my least favorite Kazak song, but I was still touched. Also, I know that in four months I will have my chance for revenge.
As I mentioned previously, turning twenty-three has brought with it a major change. I am now living by myself! Last Monday I agreed to rent this very nice two-room apartment about six blocks from my college and I moved in yesterday. This is the first time that I have really lived by myself. I have to admit that at first I was a little worried about moving out. I was a little concerned about upsetting my host family, but my biggest worry was definitely about food. I am glad to say however, that my worries have so far proven to be unfounded. I have so far successfully made both stir-fry and Denver omelets, and am beginning to feel much more confident around the kitchen. The apartment itself is beautiful. I really lucked out. I have two rooms of a four-bedroom apartment because the landlady lives in Astana and uses the other two rooms as storage, but still it is a really great situation. The rooms are big and well kept and I even have a washing machine. In fact, the only real drawback is water. Due to the state of the infrastructure in Kyzylorda and the fact that I live on the third floor apartment I only get water between 11:00 PM-1:00 AM and then from 6:30AM-9:30 AM, so I keep several five gallon jugs for the other times. Unfortunately, this lack of water means that my washing machine is useless most of the time, but I have gotten it to work a few times. So friends, if you are in the neighborhood please drop by, my couch is very comfortable and you can tell me what you think about my cooking.
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