February 26, 2009
Even after over sixteen months on the job, some days I still feel like I am not a “real” teacher, but merely playacting. This is due in part, no doubt, to the fact that I do not really consider teaching a long-term career possibility, but I also think that certain words and terms I hear everyday are somewhat responsible. A prime example of such terminology is the Kazakh/Russian word “costume” which English speakers should translate as business suit. If you read the word costume and first thought about a Halloween costume, you are not alone. When I first came to Kazakhstan and my host mother asked me about my “costume” for the first day of school, I thought to myself, “Damn, I did not know I needed to bring a mask or cape, and isn’t Halloween still two months away?” I have long since come to understand the Russian/Kazakh meaning of the word, but I still often feel that my “costume” is just that, a costume. I feel the stiff collar scratch my neck, the tie constrict my breathing, and the coat trap my arms, but I fight these short periods of anxiety with several different way, such as stretching the boundaries of what qualifies as “business casual,” and trying to foster a slightly less uptight atmosphere in my classroom.” Still, I do not think I will ever be fully comfortable in the roll of a teacher; I miss being a student too much. I hope that some of my students realize how fortunate they are to be students and how much they will miss it, but I doubt that they do. No one ever does.
четверг, 26 февраля 2009 г.
Being Kazakh Means Never Having to Say Your Sorry
February 25, 2009
A few of my local friends have a new joke. When asked how well I speak Kazakh they respond, “ote zhaksy, ol ‘keshiriniz’ tamasha aitady,” which roughly translates to, “very well, he says ‘excuse me’ perfectly.” My mother used to say that I apologized too much, and it seems that even when speaking a foreign language I cannot break the habit. I am not the only one guilty of this verbal tic, however, and locals have noticed this tendency to be overly apologetic in my site mates as well. At first I thought that this might be the result of a subconscious sense of vulnerability due to our living in a very different country, but we have been here for a year and a half with no problems. Furthermore, according to Kazakhs at least, we say excuse me too much even when we are on our own turf. One local friend who studied in America even has a story about how he once bumped into someone walking down the street in Philadelphia, and then to his amazement, the person he bumped into turned around and apologized to him!
Americans are also apparently too grateful. Locals are amazed at how often we say “thank you.” While in America you might say thank you whenever someone passes you something at the dinner table, or opens the door for you, such behavior is considered bizarre here in Kazakhstan. One friend even remarked recently, “why did you say thank you when that policeman gave you back your passports? They weren’t a gift, they’re your passports!” Furthermore, this tendency to say thank you is sometimes not only considered strange, but rude as well. For Kazakhs, serving tea or food to guests is a natural and fundamental part of being host. Thus, when you thank them for handing you your teacup, you may mistakenly give them the sense that you did not expect them to do so, thus unintentionally insulting their sense of hospitality. Even in restaurants or cafes it often seems that the friendlier you are, the less friendly the waitress, and conversely, the terser you are, the politer the waitress. In fact, the times that I have had the best service at a café were my worst days when I was surly and impatient.
This does not mean that Kazakhs are not polite, in fact in some ways their hospitality outstrips what you will encounter in the U.SA, they just have different ways of expressing it. For example, Kazakhs might not apologize to you when they bump into you on the street, but few Americans would put together the kind of spread that a Kazakh regularly puts together just to entertain one or two guests. Ultimately, if you happen to travel to Kazakhstan in the near future, I advise you to be patient, especially in regards to communication gaps, hungry for all the food they will shove in your face, and slightly less vocal to how much you enjoy it.
A few of my local friends have a new joke. When asked how well I speak Kazakh they respond, “ote zhaksy, ol ‘keshiriniz’ tamasha aitady,” which roughly translates to, “very well, he says ‘excuse me’ perfectly.” My mother used to say that I apologized too much, and it seems that even when speaking a foreign language I cannot break the habit. I am not the only one guilty of this verbal tic, however, and locals have noticed this tendency to be overly apologetic in my site mates as well. At first I thought that this might be the result of a subconscious sense of vulnerability due to our living in a very different country, but we have been here for a year and a half with no problems. Furthermore, according to Kazakhs at least, we say excuse me too much even when we are on our own turf. One local friend who studied in America even has a story about how he once bumped into someone walking down the street in Philadelphia, and then to his amazement, the person he bumped into turned around and apologized to him!
Americans are also apparently too grateful. Locals are amazed at how often we say “thank you.” While in America you might say thank you whenever someone passes you something at the dinner table, or opens the door for you, such behavior is considered bizarre here in Kazakhstan. One friend even remarked recently, “why did you say thank you when that policeman gave you back your passports? They weren’t a gift, they’re your passports!” Furthermore, this tendency to say thank you is sometimes not only considered strange, but rude as well. For Kazakhs, serving tea or food to guests is a natural and fundamental part of being host. Thus, when you thank them for handing you your teacup, you may mistakenly give them the sense that you did not expect them to do so, thus unintentionally insulting their sense of hospitality. Even in restaurants or cafes it often seems that the friendlier you are, the less friendly the waitress, and conversely, the terser you are, the politer the waitress. In fact, the times that I have had the best service at a café were my worst days when I was surly and impatient.
This does not mean that Kazakhs are not polite, in fact in some ways their hospitality outstrips what you will encounter in the U.SA, they just have different ways of expressing it. For example, Kazakhs might not apologize to you when they bump into you on the street, but few Americans would put together the kind of spread that a Kazakh regularly puts together just to entertain one or two guests. Ultimately, if you happen to travel to Kazakhstan in the near future, I advise you to be patient, especially in regards to communication gaps, hungry for all the food they will shove in your face, and slightly less vocal to how much you enjoy it.
Taking the Show on the Road
February 24, 2009
This past weekend, I went with the three other education volunteers in the Kyzylorda Oblast to Zhanakorgan with Medina Apai, one of the chief methodologists for the oblast, to give a seminar for village schoolteachers. I must admit that I was at first a little wary at the thought of spending a weekend with Medina. Conversations with her are difficult, and I feel like we need a translator, even when we are both speaking the same language. Also, like many people I work with here in Kazakhstan she is not really great at communicating what it is she needs or wants, and so I often end up misinterpreting what I am supposed to do with her. Still, our supervisor Alma wanted us to do it, and with my students on practice I did not have anything else to do, so I figured why not?
The seminar was on Monday and Tuesday, but we figured we would leave town early and go first to Turkestan, a small city only an hour away from Zhanakorgan. Turkestan is very small and is a lot like a village in many ways, but it is one of the most important and famous in Kazakhstan. Several hundred years ago, Turkestan was the capital city of Kazakhstan, and it is the home of the Mausoleum Kozha Akhmet Yassoui. The mausoleum is not only gigantic and beautiful, but one of the most important places in Islam. They say that if you go to the Mausoleum three times you are guaranteed a place in Heaven. I am not sure what qualifies as a repeat visit, (do you have to leave city between visits or just the walled compound?), but I guess that every resident of Turkestan is heaven bound, even that lucky Peace Corps volunteer who gets stationed there. We decided to take the midnight train down because it is a six hour train ride, and we figured that way we could sleep on the train and get to the city first thing in the morning. Unfortunately, the latest train was 11:10 not midnight, and we ended up getting to Turkestan at 4:30 in the morning. Once we got there we wandered around in the dark for a half an hour looking for a working bus or an open café before we found a small cafe where the woman was willing to make us eggs and instant coffee at 5 AM. After breakfast we hopped on a bus to meet the Kaz-20 living there. She told us to get onto the number two bus and get off at the small mosque, but since there was no number two bus and we hopped on to the thirteen bus because we were told that they followed the same route. As it turned out however, they did not follow the same route, and though I tried to convince him otherwise, my site mate refused to believe that the very large mosque where we got off the bus was not the small mosque” where we were supposed to meet the volunteer. Eventually though, I was vindicated when he admitted that the building that he thought was an inconsequential mosque was, as I insisted, the Mausoleum that we had come to the city to see.
The mausoleum was amazing, although the experience would have been more enjoyable if I had not been so cold. The weather in Kyzylorda had been a balmy 35 degrees Fahrenheit when we left, but Turkestan at sunrise was freezing, and it was even colder inside the mausoleum than outside. Most of the inside had been restored vandalized during the last few centuries before being recently restored, so there was only a little bit of the original stone work left, but it was still an impressive sight. The coolest thing though was the huge iron Kazan made out of seven different metals, and inlaid with script from the Koran. Apparently at one time, when pilgrims would come to the mausoleum they would be served a sugary “holy water” out of the huge Kazan to replenish them. I wish I could show pictures of it, but unfortunately, no pictures were allowed inside. The mausoleum was not the only thing on the site. We also saw the underground chambers where one of the kings had spent his last thirty years. He did not want to live any longer than Muhammad, so on his 63rd birthday he went underground. There was also a pretty decent Archeological museum in the area which house art and artifacts from the Sarmatians, Mongols, and Turks that once lived in the area. After we had seen everything we headed to a café to have lunch, warm up, and plan our next move. At first we decided that we all would head back to the Kaz-20’s house to hang out for awhile, but unfortunately, my site mate left his phone on the bus, so we decided that the two of us would head to the bus station to look for my friend’s phone and get tickets to Zhanakorgan while the Kyzylorda Kaz-20’s went to get their bags. As it turned out the last and only bus to Zhanakorgan had left at two so we ended up hiring a taxi, and we never did find the phone. We made it to Zhanakorgan and after a few miscommunications with Medina’s equally English-Challenged friend were finally picked up at the train station.
Despite our inauspicious arrival, Zhanakorgan was awesome. After we dropped our stuff off at the hotel we were taken to a nearby café. As it was Sunday, it was technically closed, but they made us tea and eggs, which was more than enough as we were still pretty full from lunch. Just then however, Medina showed up and we were whisked off to the home of a local teacher where they had prepared a full konak for the six of us that could have fed at least 15. There was so much food that for the first time ever I heard my site mate utter the words, “I’m full.” Eventually however, we excused ourselves, went back to the hotel, and quickly passed out. The next day we slept in because we did not have to be at the seminar until ten. I still got up around seven out of habit and got ready, but one of my friends slept till 9:15, an impressive ten hours of sleeping. I gave a presentation on using alternative English methods that admittedly fell a little flat. At first I thought it might have been my delivery, and in a way it was, I made the mistake of giving the presentation in English. As it turned out, only two or three of the teachers there had a working understanding of English, which left me to wonder how the other twenty-five teachers in attendance taught English.
After the presentation we went for a drive to see Tay Samal, where there is a campsite that we are interested in for a summer English camp. The camp looked great, even in February, but unfortunately the car we rode in was not in such good condition, and it broke down halfway back to the village. Our driver tried fixing it, and we even tried pushing it to get into gear, but in the end one of the drivers’ friends towed us back into town. We had barely gotten back to the hotel when we were picked up again and taken to another Konack, this one, incredibly, even better than the first. They served plov instead of the Beshparmak, and once again I ate too much. Bazargul’s boss came by so we actually had to repeat our toasts for him, but luckily my Kazakh gets better not only with practice but with a couple of extra shots.
The next day I gave my second presentation, but this one was about using the Internet and Google. I think it went better than the first one because I was more careful to use small words and my presentation was lots of pictures. I still got a few blank looks from the teachers over fifty, but the other teachers got it, and I honestly think that I lost the older crowed when I said computer. After our sessions were all over we had a short meeting where the teachers asked us questions about comparisons between education in America and Kazakhstan, which needless to say was a bit awkward. Then, we grabbed our things and boarded the bus back to Kyzylorda. The ride was blissfully uneventful, at least until we got back to the city. It turned out that Kyzylorda was not its final destination, and so it dropped us on the outskirts of the city. We got a taxi without a problem but it was still disconcerting to find yourself at the gas station across from the mosque when you are expecting the bus station. All in all though, the trip to Zhanakorgan was a great quick work trip, and the next time Medina asks us to go on an out of town seminar I will be one of the first to sign up.
This past weekend, I went with the three other education volunteers in the Kyzylorda Oblast to Zhanakorgan with Medina Apai, one of the chief methodologists for the oblast, to give a seminar for village schoolteachers. I must admit that I was at first a little wary at the thought of spending a weekend with Medina. Conversations with her are difficult, and I feel like we need a translator, even when we are both speaking the same language. Also, like many people I work with here in Kazakhstan she is not really great at communicating what it is she needs or wants, and so I often end up misinterpreting what I am supposed to do with her. Still, our supervisor Alma wanted us to do it, and with my students on practice I did not have anything else to do, so I figured why not?
The seminar was on Monday and Tuesday, but we figured we would leave town early and go first to Turkestan, a small city only an hour away from Zhanakorgan. Turkestan is very small and is a lot like a village in many ways, but it is one of the most important and famous in Kazakhstan. Several hundred years ago, Turkestan was the capital city of Kazakhstan, and it is the home of the Mausoleum Kozha Akhmet Yassoui. The mausoleum is not only gigantic and beautiful, but one of the most important places in Islam. They say that if you go to the Mausoleum three times you are guaranteed a place in Heaven. I am not sure what qualifies as a repeat visit, (do you have to leave city between visits or just the walled compound?), but I guess that every resident of Turkestan is heaven bound, even that lucky Peace Corps volunteer who gets stationed there. We decided to take the midnight train down because it is a six hour train ride, and we figured that way we could sleep on the train and get to the city first thing in the morning. Unfortunately, the latest train was 11:10 not midnight, and we ended up getting to Turkestan at 4:30 in the morning. Once we got there we wandered around in the dark for a half an hour looking for a working bus or an open café before we found a small cafe where the woman was willing to make us eggs and instant coffee at 5 AM. After breakfast we hopped on a bus to meet the Kaz-20 living there. She told us to get onto the number two bus and get off at the small mosque, but since there was no number two bus and we hopped on to the thirteen bus because we were told that they followed the same route. As it turned out however, they did not follow the same route, and though I tried to convince him otherwise, my site mate refused to believe that the very large mosque where we got off the bus was not the small mosque” where we were supposed to meet the volunteer. Eventually though, I was vindicated when he admitted that the building that he thought was an inconsequential mosque was, as I insisted, the Mausoleum that we had come to the city to see.
The mausoleum was amazing, although the experience would have been more enjoyable if I had not been so cold. The weather in Kyzylorda had been a balmy 35 degrees Fahrenheit when we left, but Turkestan at sunrise was freezing, and it was even colder inside the mausoleum than outside. Most of the inside had been restored vandalized during the last few centuries before being recently restored, so there was only a little bit of the original stone work left, but it was still an impressive sight. The coolest thing though was the huge iron Kazan made out of seven different metals, and inlaid with script from the Koran. Apparently at one time, when pilgrims would come to the mausoleum they would be served a sugary “holy water” out of the huge Kazan to replenish them. I wish I could show pictures of it, but unfortunately, no pictures were allowed inside. The mausoleum was not the only thing on the site. We also saw the underground chambers where one of the kings had spent his last thirty years. He did not want to live any longer than Muhammad, so on his 63rd birthday he went underground. There was also a pretty decent Archeological museum in the area which house art and artifacts from the Sarmatians, Mongols, and Turks that once lived in the area. After we had seen everything we headed to a café to have lunch, warm up, and plan our next move. At first we decided that we all would head back to the Kaz-20’s house to hang out for awhile, but unfortunately, my site mate left his phone on the bus, so we decided that the two of us would head to the bus station to look for my friend’s phone and get tickets to Zhanakorgan while the Kyzylorda Kaz-20’s went to get their bags. As it turned out the last and only bus to Zhanakorgan had left at two so we ended up hiring a taxi, and we never did find the phone. We made it to Zhanakorgan and after a few miscommunications with Medina’s equally English-Challenged friend were finally picked up at the train station.
Despite our inauspicious arrival, Zhanakorgan was awesome. After we dropped our stuff off at the hotel we were taken to a nearby café. As it was Sunday, it was technically closed, but they made us tea and eggs, which was more than enough as we were still pretty full from lunch. Just then however, Medina showed up and we were whisked off to the home of a local teacher where they had prepared a full konak for the six of us that could have fed at least 15. There was so much food that for the first time ever I heard my site mate utter the words, “I’m full.” Eventually however, we excused ourselves, went back to the hotel, and quickly passed out. The next day we slept in because we did not have to be at the seminar until ten. I still got up around seven out of habit and got ready, but one of my friends slept till 9:15, an impressive ten hours of sleeping. I gave a presentation on using alternative English methods that admittedly fell a little flat. At first I thought it might have been my delivery, and in a way it was, I made the mistake of giving the presentation in English. As it turned out, only two or three of the teachers there had a working understanding of English, which left me to wonder how the other twenty-five teachers in attendance taught English.
After the presentation we went for a drive to see Tay Samal, where there is a campsite that we are interested in for a summer English camp. The camp looked great, even in February, but unfortunately the car we rode in was not in such good condition, and it broke down halfway back to the village. Our driver tried fixing it, and we even tried pushing it to get into gear, but in the end one of the drivers’ friends towed us back into town. We had barely gotten back to the hotel when we were picked up again and taken to another Konack, this one, incredibly, even better than the first. They served plov instead of the Beshparmak, and once again I ate too much. Bazargul’s boss came by so we actually had to repeat our toasts for him, but luckily my Kazakh gets better not only with practice but with a couple of extra shots.
The next day I gave my second presentation, but this one was about using the Internet and Google. I think it went better than the first one because I was more careful to use small words and my presentation was lots of pictures. I still got a few blank looks from the teachers over fifty, but the other teachers got it, and I honestly think that I lost the older crowed when I said computer. After our sessions were all over we had a short meeting where the teachers asked us questions about comparisons between education in America and Kazakhstan, which needless to say was a bit awkward. Then, we grabbed our things and boarded the bus back to Kyzylorda. The ride was blissfully uneventful, at least until we got back to the city. It turned out that Kyzylorda was not its final destination, and so it dropped us on the outskirts of the city. We got a taxi without a problem but it was still disconcerting to find yourself at the gas station across from the mosque when you are expecting the bus station. All in all though, the trip to Zhanakorgan was a great quick work trip, and the next time Medina asks us to go on an out of town seminar I will be one of the first to sign up.
If You Come to Kazakhstan, Don't Forget the Rogaine
February 23, 2009
Recently, my site mate and I realized something disturbing that we have in common. We are both losing our hair. I am not, mind you, referring to hair on top of my head that is still slowly, steadily receding, but the hair on my legs. Furthermore, the loss has not been slow or gradual, but sudden, within the last couple of months, and patchy. At first, I thought the hair loss was caused by friction from my sweat pants when I went running, but I scrapped that diagnosis since my site mate is having the same problem and he does almost no physical exercise. I then looked this problem up on WebMD and it suggested a possible thyroid condition, but neither of us is chronically tired or rapidly gaining weight. So that does not seem to be it either. The only thing left to blame I guess is the ecology or the nearby spaceport, Baikanor. I usually roll my eyes when my students blame their headaches on the shuttle launches, but who knows; maybe they are on to something, but if anyone has any other possible diagnosis, please share.
Recently, my site mate and I realized something disturbing that we have in common. We are both losing our hair. I am not, mind you, referring to hair on top of my head that is still slowly, steadily receding, but the hair on my legs. Furthermore, the loss has not been slow or gradual, but sudden, within the last couple of months, and patchy. At first, I thought the hair loss was caused by friction from my sweat pants when I went running, but I scrapped that diagnosis since my site mate is having the same problem and he does almost no physical exercise. I then looked this problem up on WebMD and it suggested a possible thyroid condition, but neither of us is chronically tired or rapidly gaining weight. So that does not seem to be it either. The only thing left to blame I guess is the ecology or the nearby spaceport, Baikanor. I usually roll my eyes when my students blame their headaches on the shuttle launches, but who knows; maybe they are on to something, but if anyone has any other possible diagnosis, please share.
воскресенье, 25 января 2009 г.
Trip to Thailand
January 7, 2008
I have just gotten back to Kyzylorda after two weeks in Thailand and I must say that my trip was both good and bad. Good in that the food was great, the people were super friendly, the weather was amazing, and the country is beautiful, and bad in that I was only there for two weeks. It was definitely the perfect plac
I ended up going to Thailand with two other Peace Corps volunteers because I figured that it would be safer and more fun to explore a new country and culture with friends, and I also knew that it would probably make my mom feel better. In retrospect this wasn’t really necessary and in fact if I ever go again I think I will go by myself. While I definitely enjoyed having my friends around, the people of Thailand are so friendly, and there are so many European and Australian tourists around that it is impossible to ever feel lonely there. Furthermore, I found traveling in Thailand as a group to be a bit unwieldy. There is so much to see there, and that you cannot really see the things that you want unless everyone can go off and do their own thing.
Anyway, we left Almaty on the 22nd, and the first interesting thing about the trip was the plane itself; it was filled with Thai tourists on their way home. The three of us were amazed, being unable to imagine anyone going to Kazakhstan for vacation, especially during the winter. The only conclusion we could make was that perhaps they had come in order to finally see snow. We got to Thailand at around five in the afternoon and immediately began to sweat. Even after taking off our sweaters and jackets on the plane, the temperature difference was something to get used to, though we quickly came to enjoy it. We spent our first night at the lub-d hostel in Bangkok, getting ourselves organized for trips down to the islands, and the next morning we explored the area around the Grand Palace, particularly the Amulet market which not only had some very cool cheap Buddhist trinkets, but some amazing street food.
In fact, let me take this opportunity to say that everyone should go to Thailand, if for no other reason than the food. After a year and a half of eating meat, potatoes and onions and where fresh fruit is often prohibitably expensive, it was amazing to go to a place where you could buy large hunks of pineapple for a dollar, and eat delicious curries and stir fries with fresh vegetables for not much more. I also imbibed large quantites of Thai iced coffee on my trip; doing my best to make up for a year of dehydrated flakes, and in a moment of weakness even treated myself to Starbucks.
Anyway, in the afternoon of the 23rd we got on a bus and headed down to Koh Samet. We ended up not staying in Koh Samet proper, but rather Rayong, a small town on the mainland nearby. The place we stayed at was called Roots-the Reggae house, for good reason. The owner and operator was this really nice German guy who was probably stoned half the time, and his main help was an equally relaxed American expat/Rastafarian who last lived in the U.S. in 1974. The place was already pretty cheap to start with, and then once we got there he knocked another 20 bucks off the final bill. I think most of the guests were what would be described as “long-term,” and looking at the terms of long-term stay, I could see why they would. Not only were they in a beautiful location, but the food served was good, and as a long term guest you got your seventh day, week, month, year, etc. for free. Even though we slept in Rayong we spent most of the 24th, 25th, and 26th on Koh Samet, which was easily reachable by ferry. It turned out that we made the right choice by not staying on Koh Samet because it was a good bit more expensive and packed with tourists, and it was nice to be able to escape all of that at the end of the day. We had a really great Christmas Eve and Christmas on Koh Samet swimming and relaxing and eating more of that great thai food.
On the 26th we headed to another island, Koh Chang. The main difference between Koh Chang and Ko Samet is that Koh Chang is a much bigger, self-sufficient, and has fewer beaches. Unlike Koh Samet’s miles of low, smooth coastline, Koh Chang is filled with tall mountains, and has a very rugged coastline. It is also surrounded by coral reefs and is a minor mecca for scuba divers. While we did not partake in scuba diving, we had plenty of other adventures on Koh Chang, beginning with the trip there. The bus ride and the ferry boat were no problem, but once we got onto the island we ran into some problems. The hostel my friend had found was on the east side of the island, which is much more undeveloped, and none of the taxis were willing to head that way for less than 1000 baht or about 40 dollars. Even split three ways that was way too much, so we took the cheap cabs to the west side of the island, figuring that we could find a small ferry to take us to the other side. Unfortunately, when we got there the boats were gone, and when we called the hostel to ask what we should do, the person who answered the phone said that we had the wrong number and that the hostel was out of business. So, while my friends went to stop payment on the hostel deposit, I went around to various places to find rooms, and I quickly found some rooms near a small shop over the water. They were dirt cheap, and even though they did not have the best view, they proved to be a good base of operations for the days ahead.
The next day, December 27th, we hung out on the extremely misnamed Lonely Beach. While the girls got massages, I went swimming because I was still nursing sunburn from Koh Samet, and I figured that when I got a famous Thai massage, I wanted to do it somewhere where there wasn’t so much sand. Lonely Beach nice, but unfortunately and ironically, extremely crowded and was really small, so we felt no real need to go there again the next day, instead we decided to check out those coral reefs and so took snorkeling trip. The trip was a bit pricy, about 12 dollars, but totally worth it. They took us to four different small islands and reefs and made us a lunch that was so good, many people had to skip the third stop because they were too full. The reefs were beautiful, and filled with some of the most colorful and daring fish I had ever seen. Some people brought pieces of bread to draw schools of fish to them, but even without a bread bribe, I was surrounded. Still, the trip was not all sunshine and tranquility, and a couple of times we found out how treacherous swimming among the reefs can be. Shannon and Susie both accidently cut their feet while treading water, and I sliced my two a little bit at our last stop. There, we parked at a dock and went snorkeling at the small beach nearby. It was a beautiful, but not the most ideal swimming location. First, the water was amazingly shallow. Even twenty-five feet out I could stand easily, and this made swimming a pain because there was barely enough water under me to keep me afloat. Also, the sand ended at about ten feet out and with the rest of the bottom being made up of fragments of dead reefs, shells, and rocks. Thus, most of the time I was not looking at the fish so much as trying to avoid scrapping my stomach on a piece of coral. Still, I made it totally unscathed until I stepped on the small jagged piece that I now have in my living room.
After Koh Chang we headed back to Bangkok for New Years, site-seeing, cheap souvenirs, and some retail therapy at the three huge shopping malls in the center of Bangkok. The first thing we did when we got to Bangkok was leave Bangkok and head to the small city of Ayataya. Ayataya is the former capital of Thailand, and is the home of several important Buddhist temples and shrines. One of the most interesting sites that we saw at Ayataya was a giant reclining Buddha that had to have been at least sixty feet long. I have a picture of myself standing by its feet, and I am not even as tall as five of its toes. According to the tour guide, the reclining Buddha symbolizes Buddha going to Nirvana, or heaven, and fittingly the area surrounding it was filled with various temples and mausoleums dedicated to the ancient kings of Thailand. Another really interesting thing that we saw was a stone Buddha’s head, the last remaining piece of a slightly larger than life size statue. The body statue had been destroyed and the head had been left lying on the ground. Then, after several years, a tree took root in the ground underneath the head. Gradually, the tree has grown up and around the head, and now the stone head of a Buddha is imbedded inside it about four feet off the ground. It was amazing to see such a merger of the inanimate and animate, and only thing that could have made it more impressive was if the tree had been a Bodhi. After Ayataya we headed back to Bangkok and checked out Khao Shan Road, Bangkok’s backpacker capital. The street was packed with hostels, souvenir stalls, and food sellers, and I think that there were more ex-pats on than Thais. I tried to exercise restraint but must I admit that I probably got too many souvenirs and servings of Pad Thai while I was there.
The next day, the three of us split off to do our own things. I was a little tired of temples after Ayataya, so I decided that instead of temple hopping again, I would spend the day at the Grand Palace, something that was very easy to do. First, it took me almost an hour to get into the palace between lines for tickets and lines for replacement pants. I was in the same kind of clothes that I had worn yesterday at all the temples at Ayataya but apparently that still was not good enough, and I had to borrow some pants to go in. Still, it was worth that minor aggravation. The palace was huge and beautiful, and I was able to kill to birds with one stone. Not only was the Grand Palace the King’s home and place of business, but it was also the location of another famous shrine, the Temple of the Emerald Buddha. If there was anything that I saw in Thailand that I would consider disappointing, the Emerald Buddha would be it. It just did not live up to all the hype. First, it was much smaller than expected, and it turned out that the statue of the Buddha was not even made of emerald, but was in fact jade. Actually, that was not a big deal, and I was very impressed to learn that the whole thing was made from one piece. If the problem was anything in particular it was that it was so poorly lit. Not only was the stature way up high, but it was nearly lost in shadow, which made it really hard to appreciate it. I just figured that a national symbol of such importance would be a little better displayed. The last two days were spent in the more modern, retail world of Bangkok. We went to the big mall in the center of the city and I got some new running shoes, a new mp3/phone to replace my ipod that went kaput right as I got to Thailand, and some new books. New Years, in Thailand was great. We had dinner and drinks at the hostel to keep down costs, and then we went to the center of the city to watch fireworks. A few of the people we were hanging out with that night had a little too much to drink and had to cut out early, but I made it well into 2009 before I headed to bed.
Unfortunately, the 2nd of January finally arrived and it was time to go home. Our flight was not until nine that night so we packed up and went around Bangkok one last time. I also finally got the famous Thai massage, and I have to say it was much nicer and classier than I expected. The masseuse only propositioned me once, and the parlor was very clean and comfortable. Eventually however, it was time to head home to Kazakhstan. I had one last feast of non-Kazakh fast food at the Burger King/Dairy Queen at the airport food court, put on my warm clothes to prepare for the winter we were returning to, and then finally, reluctantly, got on the airplane.
I have just gotten back to Kyzylorda after two weeks in Thailand and I must say that my trip was both good and bad. Good in that the food was great, the people were super friendly, the weather was amazing, and the country is beautiful, and bad in that I was only there for two weeks. It was definitely the perfect plac
I ended up going to Thailand with two other Peace Corps volunteers because I figured that it would be safer and more fun to explore a new country and culture with friends, and I also knew that it would probably make my mom feel better. In retrospect this wasn’t really necessary and in fact if I ever go again I think I will go by myself. While I definitely enjoyed having my friends around, the people of Thailand are so friendly, and there are so many European and Australian tourists around that it is impossible to ever feel lonely there. Furthermore, I found traveling in Thailand as a group to be a bit unwieldy. There is so much to see there, and that you cannot really see the things that you want unless everyone can go off and do their own thing.
Anyway, we left Almaty on the 22nd, and the first interesting thing about the trip was the plane itself; it was filled with Thai tourists on their way home. The three of us were amazed, being unable to imagine anyone going to Kazakhstan for vacation, especially during the winter. The only conclusion we could make was that perhaps they had come in order to finally see snow. We got to Thailand at around five in the afternoon and immediately began to sweat. Even after taking off our sweaters and jackets on the plane, the temperature difference was something to get used to, though we quickly came to enjoy it. We spent our first night at the lub-d hostel in Bangkok, getting ourselves organized for trips down to the islands, and the next morning we explored the area around the Grand Palace, particularly the Amulet market which not only had some very cool cheap Buddhist trinkets, but some amazing street food.
In fact, let me take this opportunity to say that everyone should go to Thailand, if for no other reason than the food. After a year and a half of eating meat, potatoes and onions and where fresh fruit is often prohibitably expensive, it was amazing to go to a place where you could buy large hunks of pineapple for a dollar, and eat delicious curries and stir fries with fresh vegetables for not much more. I also imbibed large quantites of Thai iced coffee on my trip; doing my best to make up for a year of dehydrated flakes, and in a moment of weakness even treated myself to Starbucks.
Anyway, in the afternoon of the 23rd we got on a bus and headed down to Koh Samet. We ended up not staying in Koh Samet proper, but rather Rayong, a small town on the mainland nearby. The place we stayed at was called Roots-the Reggae house, for good reason. The owner and operator was this really nice German guy who was probably stoned half the time, and his main help was an equally relaxed American expat/Rastafarian who last lived in the U.S. in 1974. The place was already pretty cheap to start with, and then once we got there he knocked another 20 bucks off the final bill. I think most of the guests were what would be described as “long-term,” and looking at the terms of long-term stay, I could see why they would. Not only were they in a beautiful location, but the food served was good, and as a long term guest you got your seventh day, week, month, year, etc. for free. Even though we slept in Rayong we spent most of the 24th, 25th, and 26th on Koh Samet, which was easily reachable by ferry. It turned out that we made the right choice by not staying on Koh Samet because it was a good bit more expensive and packed with tourists, and it was nice to be able to escape all of that at the end of the day. We had a really great Christmas Eve and Christmas on Koh Samet swimming and relaxing and eating more of that great thai food.
On the 26th we headed to another island, Koh Chang. The main difference between Koh Chang and Ko Samet is that Koh Chang is a much bigger, self-sufficient, and has fewer beaches. Unlike Koh Samet’s miles of low, smooth coastline, Koh Chang is filled with tall mountains, and has a very rugged coastline. It is also surrounded by coral reefs and is a minor mecca for scuba divers. While we did not partake in scuba diving, we had plenty of other adventures on Koh Chang, beginning with the trip there. The bus ride and the ferry boat were no problem, but once we got onto the island we ran into some problems. The hostel my friend had found was on the east side of the island, which is much more undeveloped, and none of the taxis were willing to head that way for less than 1000 baht or about 40 dollars. Even split three ways that was way too much, so we took the cheap cabs to the west side of the island, figuring that we could find a small ferry to take us to the other side. Unfortunately, when we got there the boats were gone, and when we called the hostel to ask what we should do, the person who answered the phone said that we had the wrong number and that the hostel was out of business. So, while my friends went to stop payment on the hostel deposit, I went around to various places to find rooms, and I quickly found some rooms near a small shop over the water. They were dirt cheap, and even though they did not have the best view, they proved to be a good base of operations for the days ahead.
The next day, December 27th, we hung out on the extremely misnamed Lonely Beach. While the girls got massages, I went swimming because I was still nursing sunburn from Koh Samet, and I figured that when I got a famous Thai massage, I wanted to do it somewhere where there wasn’t so much sand. Lonely Beach nice, but unfortunately and ironically, extremely crowded and was really small, so we felt no real need to go there again the next day, instead we decided to check out those coral reefs and so took snorkeling trip. The trip was a bit pricy, about 12 dollars, but totally worth it. They took us to four different small islands and reefs and made us a lunch that was so good, many people had to skip the third stop because they were too full. The reefs were beautiful, and filled with some of the most colorful and daring fish I had ever seen. Some people brought pieces of bread to draw schools of fish to them, but even without a bread bribe, I was surrounded. Still, the trip was not all sunshine and tranquility, and a couple of times we found out how treacherous swimming among the reefs can be. Shannon and Susie both accidently cut their feet while treading water, and I sliced my two a little bit at our last stop. There, we parked at a dock and went snorkeling at the small beach nearby. It was a beautiful, but not the most ideal swimming location. First, the water was amazingly shallow. Even twenty-five feet out I could stand easily, and this made swimming a pain because there was barely enough water under me to keep me afloat. Also, the sand ended at about ten feet out and with the rest of the bottom being made up of fragments of dead reefs, shells, and rocks. Thus, most of the time I was not looking at the fish so much as trying to avoid scrapping my stomach on a piece of coral. Still, I made it totally unscathed until I stepped on the small jagged piece that I now have in my living room.
After Koh Chang we headed back to Bangkok for New Years, site-seeing, cheap souvenirs, and some retail therapy at the three huge shopping malls in the center of Bangkok. The first thing we did when we got to Bangkok was leave Bangkok and head to the small city of Ayataya. Ayataya is the former capital of Thailand, and is the home of several important Buddhist temples and shrines. One of the most interesting sites that we saw at Ayataya was a giant reclining Buddha that had to have been at least sixty feet long. I have a picture of myself standing by its feet, and I am not even as tall as five of its toes. According to the tour guide, the reclining Buddha symbolizes Buddha going to Nirvana, or heaven, and fittingly the area surrounding it was filled with various temples and mausoleums dedicated to the ancient kings of Thailand. Another really interesting thing that we saw was a stone Buddha’s head, the last remaining piece of a slightly larger than life size statue. The body statue had been destroyed and the head had been left lying on the ground. Then, after several years, a tree took root in the ground underneath the head. Gradually, the tree has grown up and around the head, and now the stone head of a Buddha is imbedded inside it about four feet off the ground. It was amazing to see such a merger of the inanimate and animate, and only thing that could have made it more impressive was if the tree had been a Bodhi. After Ayataya we headed back to Bangkok and checked out Khao Shan Road, Bangkok’s backpacker capital. The street was packed with hostels, souvenir stalls, and food sellers, and I think that there were more ex-pats on than Thais. I tried to exercise restraint but must I admit that I probably got too many souvenirs and servings of Pad Thai while I was there.
The next day, the three of us split off to do our own things. I was a little tired of temples after Ayataya, so I decided that instead of temple hopping again, I would spend the day at the Grand Palace, something that was very easy to do. First, it took me almost an hour to get into the palace between lines for tickets and lines for replacement pants. I was in the same kind of clothes that I had worn yesterday at all the temples at Ayataya but apparently that still was not good enough, and I had to borrow some pants to go in. Still, it was worth that minor aggravation. The palace was huge and beautiful, and I was able to kill to birds with one stone. Not only was the Grand Palace the King’s home and place of business, but it was also the location of another famous shrine, the Temple of the Emerald Buddha. If there was anything that I saw in Thailand that I would consider disappointing, the Emerald Buddha would be it. It just did not live up to all the hype. First, it was much smaller than expected, and it turned out that the statue of the Buddha was not even made of emerald, but was in fact jade. Actually, that was not a big deal, and I was very impressed to learn that the whole thing was made from one piece. If the problem was anything in particular it was that it was so poorly lit. Not only was the stature way up high, but it was nearly lost in shadow, which made it really hard to appreciate it. I just figured that a national symbol of such importance would be a little better displayed. The last two days were spent in the more modern, retail world of Bangkok. We went to the big mall in the center of the city and I got some new running shoes, a new mp3/phone to replace my ipod that went kaput right as I got to Thailand, and some new books. New Years, in Thailand was great. We had dinner and drinks at the hostel to keep down costs, and then we went to the center of the city to watch fireworks. A few of the people we were hanging out with that night had a little too much to drink and had to cut out early, but I made it well into 2009 before I headed to bed.
Unfortunately, the 2nd of January finally arrived and it was time to go home. Our flight was not until nine that night so we packed up and went around Bangkok one last time. I also finally got the famous Thai massage, and I have to say it was much nicer and classier than I expected. The masseuse only propositioned me once, and the parlor was very clean and comfortable. Eventually however, it was time to head home to Kazakhstan. I had one last feast of non-Kazakh fast food at the Burger King/Dairy Queen at the airport food court, put on my warm clothes to prepare for the winter we were returning to, and then finally, reluctantly, got on the airplane.
среда, 17 декабря 2008 г.
Lessons From MST
December 15, 2008
We just got back from our Mid-Service Training in Almaty, and while it was not strictly a vacation, it was a very worthwhile break. As was the case with IST it was just nice to hang out with the other volunteers and get some new ideas about classroom games and community projects. More importantly however, MST allowed me to compare general experiences with other volunteers. From my last couple of posts you may have noticed that I have been a bit frustrated with life here. Little things kept piling up and I just got angrier. This really bothered me because I genuinely like living here, and I considered myself open-minded and culturally sophisticated. Furthermore, while Kyzylorda is not gorgeous to be sure, it is a nice enough city, and I’ve got local friends and very supportive colleagues. Why then, did everything that I liked about those people for last year suddenly begin to drive me crazy? I think it was because somewhere along the line I forgot that just because I understand and respect a culture does not mean I have to like all of it. There are many things that I love about Kazakhstan, particularly the food, the close-knit family, and the bazaars. However, I do not have to like the fact that young men live with their parents well into their 20s and often cross the line between respectful sons and “mama’s boys,” or that it is perfectly ok to cheat on an exam. My mistake was to try to force myself to like everything about the country, even those things that were antithetical to my own upbringing and values. Since MST however, I have come to realize that I can be a lot more Zen about it. I will continue to respect Kazakhstan’s opinions about education and gender relations, but I do not have to give myself an ulcer trying to see those opinions as correct or equally valid. I guess what I am trying to say is that I have definitely given of hope fully integrating, but I am perfectly happy here going along with the idea of live and let live.
We just got back from our Mid-Service Training in Almaty, and while it was not strictly a vacation, it was a very worthwhile break. As was the case with IST it was just nice to hang out with the other volunteers and get some new ideas about classroom games and community projects. More importantly however, MST allowed me to compare general experiences with other volunteers. From my last couple of posts you may have noticed that I have been a bit frustrated with life here. Little things kept piling up and I just got angrier. This really bothered me because I genuinely like living here, and I considered myself open-minded and culturally sophisticated. Furthermore, while Kyzylorda is not gorgeous to be sure, it is a nice enough city, and I’ve got local friends and very supportive colleagues. Why then, did everything that I liked about those people for last year suddenly begin to drive me crazy? I think it was because somewhere along the line I forgot that just because I understand and respect a culture does not mean I have to like all of it. There are many things that I love about Kazakhstan, particularly the food, the close-knit family, and the bazaars. However, I do not have to like the fact that young men live with their parents well into their 20s and often cross the line between respectful sons and “mama’s boys,” or that it is perfectly ok to cheat on an exam. My mistake was to try to force myself to like everything about the country, even those things that were antithetical to my own upbringing and values. Since MST however, I have come to realize that I can be a lot more Zen about it. I will continue to respect Kazakhstan’s opinions about education and gender relations, but I do not have to give myself an ulcer trying to see those opinions as correct or equally valid. I guess what I am trying to say is that I have definitely given of hope fully integrating, but I am perfectly happy here going along with the idea of live and let live.
The Crazy Weather of Kazakhstan
December 3, 2008
I do not think that Al Gore has ever visited Kazakhstan, but in November we have had enough crazy weather to definitively prove his global warming thesis. I was struck at the intensity and implausibility of the weather witnessed. Furthermore, the speed at which the weather transitioned from one type to another was incredible, often taking only one day or even a couple of hours. The first week was five days of heavy, sometimes even torrential rain. This would be nothing unusual if Kyzylorda was not located in the desert/steppe of Kazakhstan, but I bet that we got our due of rain for an entire year. The following week brought a dense cold fog in the mornings that slowly disappeared in the mid to late afternoon. I figure that this could have been the result of the warm afternoon sun sucking water up off of the river that was then trapped near the earth as the temperature quickly dropped at sundown. The fog was so thick that I thought I was walking through a humidfier, and it was sometimes hard to breathe. In a city so flat that I can almost see my school from my apartment two miles away I could barely see five feet in front of me. Next came the Indian summer. When I went to work in the morning it had been in the high 30’s Farenhiet, but by the time I walked back to my house for lunch it had gotten up the high 50’s. As I mentioned before these weather patterns moved in with astounding speed, but the November heat week developed the fastest.. I have to admit that I was so caught off guard that I first thought I had caught a cold and had a fever. This “heat wave” has persisted even into the first week of December with no end in site. It looks like one of the coldest winters on record will be followed by one of the warmest.
I do not think that Al Gore has ever visited Kazakhstan, but in November we have had enough crazy weather to definitively prove his global warming thesis. I was struck at the intensity and implausibility of the weather witnessed. Furthermore, the speed at which the weather transitioned from one type to another was incredible, often taking only one day or even a couple of hours. The first week was five days of heavy, sometimes even torrential rain. This would be nothing unusual if Kyzylorda was not located in the desert/steppe of Kazakhstan, but I bet that we got our due of rain for an entire year. The following week brought a dense cold fog in the mornings that slowly disappeared in the mid to late afternoon. I figure that this could have been the result of the warm afternoon sun sucking water up off of the river that was then trapped near the earth as the temperature quickly dropped at sundown. The fog was so thick that I thought I was walking through a humidfier, and it was sometimes hard to breathe. In a city so flat that I can almost see my school from my apartment two miles away I could barely see five feet in front of me. Next came the Indian summer. When I went to work in the morning it had been in the high 30’s Farenhiet, but by the time I walked back to my house for lunch it had gotten up the high 50’s. As I mentioned before these weather patterns moved in with astounding speed, but the November heat week developed the fastest.. I have to admit that I was so caught off guard that I first thought I had caught a cold and had a fever. This “heat wave” has persisted even into the first week of December with no end in site. It looks like one of the coldest winters on record will be followed by one of the warmest.
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