feeling festive

So Wednesday I went to Ramstore to seek out condiments and garnishes for my buffalo wings. Ramstore is a huge Turkish endeavor that is all over the Former Soviet countries and Eastern Europe (I found out online that they opened one in Skopje in 2005 when I was googling Ramstore's products).

It's basically a small-ish mall with about three floors of shops, a massive "hypermarket" (one step up from supermarket), a food court, and an indoor ice skating rink. As swanky as it is, it charges you a refundable 50 tenge to use a shopping cart, something it took me about 5 minutes to figure out how to use. (Grrrr. Funny how it's the very minor things here that can make you crazy.)

The hypermarket was all set up for New Year's. Because Christmas here is celebrated January 7 (the Orthodox Christmas) and a gift-giving orgy isn't done, New Year's is more of the big holiday that everyone gets ready for. There were huge displays of Soviet Champagne, Frexinet (sp?) champagne, chocolates, and lots and lots of garlands and lights. For some reason, I didn't find it horribly commercial or offensive. Maybe that's because it was just that one store that was like that? Anyway, it definitely helped get me in the holiday/celebrating spirit. Today it's snowing like crazy and I just want to make peppermint patties (yannow, hot chocolate + peppermint schnapps) or hot shlivka and play in the snow.

My wings are ready to go. I cut them all last night, made the blue cheese dressing, made the hot sauce, and cut up the celery and carrots. Frank's is what I prefer, but all they had was Tobasco (way too hot!) and Louisiana hot sauce. They also had a Tobasco brand Worshteshire sauce, which I hadn't ever seen before. All that remains to be done today is the fry-fest. Cutting apart the wing tip from the wing from the little leg is a nightmare with dull knives. I don't miss much from America, but I definitely miss my Sabatier's when I am in the kitchen.

Next Thursday we're having another party, three of our staff members are leaving. They did it on Thursday because both the project direct and I fly to the US Friday morning. So I'm going to have to pack ahead of time. And will likely by flying on very little sleep and a little too much alcohol. :) But that will just mean that I will be comatose on the flights, which is good. Being comatose is the best way to fly...though flying hung over isn't much fun. :p That just means I'll have to go to the Duty Free in Heathrow and load up on the free samples of Pimm's Lemonade. A bit of the hair of the dog and I should be good to go for that second leg. ;>

There may be as many as 20 people at the joint birthday party tonight, so it's really going to be a lot of fun. I will take a buttload of photos and post them here over the weekend.

party planning

There are two birthdays coming up in the office this week, and we decided to have the birthday party at my flat. It is centrally located and has two big living rooms, so it's perfect for a shin-dig.

Everyone's bringing something, and I have decided that I am going to make buffalo wings. I thought and thought and thought, and decided that that would be the ultimate American party food.

So I am going to go to the Chicken House to buy some wings. (Yes, the store is called Chicken House, I'm not translating it for you.) I hear they have great chicken.

I haven't seen any blue cheese dressing here (only ranch and 1000 Island) so I'm going to have to make my own. Epicurious to the rescue! Mayo + yogurt + blue cheese = blue cheese dressing!

I will scout around for some Frank's hot sauce, but Texas Pete's might be my only choice. Not a bad second. Bet you didn't think you could find stuff like that here, but you can. The randomness of what you can find. Surprises abound, both in the "I can't believe no one has this!" category, as well as the "I can't believe someone has this!" category.

If I have time, I'll also make some pinjur. Gotta through in something Macedonian, yannow. :) Besides, if I'm making something as bad for you as wings, I need to balance it out with something healthier.

old man winter

It's really nice and wintry here. I'd say the temps have been in the 25-35 F range for a while now. I wear my hat, gloves, and scarf when walking. My hat is decidedly American (just a typical fleece winter cap), something no fashionable Kazakh woman would wear, so I get a lot of looks. Once upon a time I was young and vain. Now I'd rather be warm than look hot, so let 'em stare.

I was bemoaning the fact that I'd be launched back into frenetic, US, Christmas-time consumerism when I got home and the karma wheel gave it to me but good. First I get an announcement that local artisans are selling their wares all this weekend and next weekend at the national museum. It's timed so that all of the expats can do their holiday shopping before they fly home.

Then on the bus ride to my friend's house, at the stop across the street from Hotel Kazakhstan I notice a 20-foot blow-up Santa Claus and Frosty flanking the entrance to the hotel. *sigh* Maybe they're catering to homesick Americans this holiday season. But signs of consumerism, I just cannot escape. What's a girl to do? Go shopping, that's what! I have gifts to buy for everyone back home! And a fur shapka, so that I can fit in!! ;>

holy fog, Batman!

It is really, really foggy here. Everyone says that the sun shines brightly in January, but November and December are very foggy.

The other day I couldn't see the trees outside my office window, much less the building that they're building further down. It was very interesting---almost like looking out the window of an airplane when you're climbing through the clouds. Nothing was visible, and it was somewhat disorienting.

I guess I'm getting used to the fog. This afternoon when the sun broke through and started shining brightly, it was startling. I felt like I needed sunglasses. Interesting, no? Usually I'm very foggy-brained when it's foggy, but I guess I've adapted to it.

*sigh* The Embarrassment of an American

The other day something very interesting happened. I still cringe when thinking about it and am hoping that working it out here will help me get over the embarrassment I felt.

So I popped into the store downstairs with a friend of mine to get some cookies to go with our tea. This is a locally-owned, Kazakh version of a 7-11: open 24 hours, selling all sorts of staples and junk food, as well as booze (by the shot, even) and fruits and veggies. Better than the local Qwikie-Marts in the US, actually, since you can get healthy things.

These three guys are there who speak no Russian and are struggling to purchase beer and Snickers. One guy asks one shopkeeper in English, "Do you speak English?" She looks at him like he's from Mars. He tries another girl. Same response. I took pity on him and in English said to him "I speak English. Tell me what you need and I'll ask the girls for it for you."

After helping them find the strongest available beer (Baltika 9, it's dark and highest alcohol content) and a few other things, I take my leave of the store, wishing them luck in Almaty. As we're heading back to my place, two of the guys run after us and ask if I could translate for them for an engineering conference they're attending. I take down their number and promise to pass them along to my contacts, and they thank me profusely.

Then they ask, "Where are you from?" To which I replied "America."

They glance at one another, hesitate, and then one admits "We're from Iran. But don't worry! We're not terrorists. In fact, we love Americans...." and launch into apologies over who they are and where they come from.

I was so terribly embarrassed. I felt horrible that they felt that they had to apologize for themselves, based on the actions, rhetoric, and policies of the US government. I interrupted his apologies and said "First of all, you have nothing to apologize for. Please know that not every American thinks the same as George Bush. Americans don't believe that every person from the Middle East is a terrorist. Second of all, you are not responsible for the actions of your government, just as I'm not responsible for the actions of mine." And we agreed that governments do really shitty things, with their constituents paying the price. These days, it's a very, very dear price indeed.

It's only within the past 10 years that during my travels I've actually stopped and paused before responding where I'm from. Most of the time I will admit to being an American, but sometimes I will say I'm Macedonian. Usually, it's because I don't want to deal with the inevitable barrage of questions, and of having to provide endless explanations. But more and more, I don't want to admit to it because of the horrible foreign policy choices that the Bush administration has been making these past 7 years. (Though being in the Balkan after Clinton started bombing Serbia was also not a good time to run around shouting "I'm an American!" in some enclaves.) And that, my friends, is sad. I'm actually ashamed to admit to being an American sometimes.

I've been lucky in that 99% of the people I meet are able to separate American foreign policy from me as individual and don't berate me for the things that my government does. That says a lot for the decency of people. It helps that I can start out with "Don't blame me, I voted for Gore/Kerry." Some of the most common questions I've gotten here are:

--How much longer is Bush going to be in office?
--How could the US re-elect Bush?
--Why did you go to Iraq?
--Why don't Americans care about what's going on in the world?
--Why does the US boss everyone around?

Of course, there's always that dichotomy. If people aren't happy with American policies (i.e, the war in Iraq) they are like "Why does America have to stick its nose where it doesn't belong? Why do they have to be the policeman of the world?" But there are people here who are very open about how it's to their benefit that the US is in Afghanistan: It helps bring stability to the Central Asian region, too. So it's a good thing that American is fighting the war against the Taliban--at least to some people.

The other dichotomy is that while America is often seen as the bully in the world political arena, lots of people want a piece of the American pie. The US--for better or for worse--is that mythical place where immigrants can become millionaires, or at least afford homes with running water and heating, and still have some money to send back to help those out at home. The land of milk and honey. The streets are paved in gold.

But the reality for most immigrants is long hours of arduous physical labor, barely at a living wage. And those sending money at home often are living in less than ideal conditions, working multiple jobs, struggling to get by. My mom and I had a talk about how America somehow has become this idealized place for people wishing for better, without realizing that America is far from utopia. And a lot of poor people get sold on this idea, only to face a very cold and harsh reality when they set foot in the USA.

In most of my discussions about America, I end up closing with "In America you will find the best of all possible things, but also the worst of all possible things." I think it's the fairest and truest statement I can make.

Something Soviet-esque

I was looking through my pics the other day and realized I never posted the photos I have of some very, very Soviet-esque monuments. So here you are. (It’s weird to be looking at these pictures of sun and short sleeves when everything around here is now covered in snow!)

Park Panfilovna, or more fully, 28 Panfilov Heroes Memorial Park was named for the division of the Kazakhstan Army fighting against the Nazis in WWII. The park is huge, and sports a very, very old Orthodox Church on the other side of it. Yes, the juxtaposition of a place of worship and a communist monument seem strange. But under communism, the church was turned into a museum. (More on the church below.)





Here’s a shot of the eternal flame. It lists how many Kazakhis died in the “Great Patriotic War for the Motherland,” or Great Patriotic War as WWII is more commonly referred to in former Soviet countries. Dude, they lost 16 million people during the war. Nearly all men born between the years xx and xx (sorry, I forgot the years) died. The Soviets took the biggest hit, casualty-wise, out of all countries engaged in the war. I think that gives them the right to call it whatever they want. (Read about the blockade in St. Petersburg…I watched a documentary about it and it was enough to make you want to renounce being human.)

Here’s another. I see this style of monuments as the Soviet style: Massive, in-your-face, and slightly scary. (I remember a similar monument to freedom fighters, including Goce Delchev, in a park in Skopje and feeling awed and slightly afraid of it as a child.) As Steve said as we were looking at it: There’s nothing subtle about the message that they were imparting upon you. Nor was the style subtle.

I don’t know. Maybe if you grow up being around monuments, parks, and buildings like this, you find it normal and not slightly disconcerting. So perhaps my Americanness has something to do with my interpretation of such Soviet-esque places and things. But sometimes I feel myself sagging under the weight of their enormousness, their heaviness, their hammering me over the head with their emphasis.

Now onto the shiny, happy, yellow church. Isn’t it gorgeous?

Once upon a time, the city of Almaty was called “Verniy,” which translates into “faithful.” This was back when the Kazakhs asked the Russian empire for protection from some warring invaders (I think some tribe living in China). The tzar dispatched several divisions, who built a fort around the city of Almaty. Then this church was built in 1870, and the name of the city was changed from it’s Kazakh name to the Russian “Verniy.” By the by, Almaty in Kazakh means “father of apples.” And yup, scientists have traced the apple back to this place. (Too bad people have razed ancient trees to build McMansions, but that’s another story….)

Almaty is earthquake prone, and so the engineer building the church took that into consideration. In addition to not using one nail while building it (it’s all wooden pegs), he built the beams with some “play” in it so that it can move when the earth move. When this big earthquake hit in 1887, the story goes, all of the buildings in Verniy started crumbling to the ground, except for the church. So all of the townspeople flocked to the church for physical (as well as spiritual, I’m sure) security after the earthquake. Which just reinforced the notion of a faithful people, thus reinforcing the name of the city.

The church is as lovely on the inside, a typical Orthodox church. On the back wall before you exit the church there are a number of frescoes on the walls, depicting burning in hell and such. A not-so-subtle reminder not to sin as you’re heading on your way out…

Happy Thanksgiving!

My flight was cancelled Tues with no apparent rationale, and there are no tickets available for the next flight out Friday, so it looks like my Turkemenistan travel plans have been thwarted. While I like Ashgabat and would have enjoyed the balmy weather there, I'm not terribly distraught over not having to jam in one last trip before I head back to the US next month.

Funny how Thanksgiving seems like such a hassle back home (where are we going? How much time wasted driving/buying tickets/flying? The shopping, the lines, the crowds, the rude people, the hassle....). So far away from it now, I'm looking at websites with Turkeys and shoppers fondly. Am I really starting to appreciate an American tradition?? When I explained the whole Thanksgiving concept to people, they thought it was really cool, being grateful, being together with family, eating wayyyyy too many mashed potatoes and pecan pie... (And it is really cool---if you conveniently ignore the fact that the very people who ate the Native American's food that day ended up slaughtering the hands that fed them.) It's just that given all of the work and hassle when you're in the middle of it, it can definitely feel like a PITA.

But now I am fondly remembering flying to Chicago and braving the crowds at O'Hare, or loading up the car with Pookie and food (always some sort of roast, since John hates turkey) for the looong drive up to Warren to celebrate with Steve's brother. There was the yummy Turkducken phase we went through. I've done Thanksgiving at my parents' house, my godparents' house, my godsister's house, Steve's house, the McCool family homestead, the house in DC with Maria (drunk on cheap chardonnay and eating rice-a-roni, because all the stores closed before we decided to go shopping), and a few other places. Good times. So enjoy your holiday! I'm even fondly remembering watching truck drivers pee from their cabs while walking Pookie at the PA rest stop. Our routine was that I would walk the dog and scoop the poop while Steve got us Starbucks. Then I'd go in to pee while he'd sit in the car with the dog, waiting. Poor Steve has to do all of that today without me. *sniff, sniff* But I'll be back to do the drill over Christmas, so all I'll have another chance to do the rest stop dance....with the gazillion other travellers doing the same. *sigh* Now it's all coming back to me....why I thought it wasn't that much fun at the time.

For some reason the Shop-Rite stores on the east coast have worked out some deal with Kazakhstan, and last night at the grocery store I picked up a box of Shop-Rite brand mac-n-cheese. I guess I was feeling REALLY nostalgic for the US to eat that crud. (I was watching a movie the other day and saw someone eating a hot dog. I was like "Damn, I really want a hot dog!" And I average about 1 hot dog every other year.) Maybe it's just that I'm nostalgic for the food?!??? Steve and I are already discussing which restaurants we're going to hit when I get home to celebrate. Bawlmer-based readers, I'd love to take your suggestions. Especially any great new places that have opened while I've been away. (Abacrombie was at the top of my list, but it closed! Wah.) I am interested in tasting menus paired with wine flights so that I can maximize the amount of yummy things I consume in my first night out.

Turkeyday in Turkmenistan

Well, my fantasies of making a huge, traditional Thanksgiving feast here for my friends has evaporated in the mist. I'm heading to Turkmenistan Tuesday, thanks to (that's 5 words that begin with T in a row!) some ministers that have approved my not only coming into the country (thank you, minister of internal affairs) but also traveling to Mary to visit maternity homes (thank you, minister of health). Wow, what a run-on sentence. I'm not editing my work, so you'll have to suffer through that syntax.

I did spy some cranberry jelly in Stolichniy, the best supermarket in town. I'm imagining it as a mix between Whole Foods and Wegmans, though I've never been to Wegmans. They have a huuuuuge booze department, it runs nearly the entire length of the store. And the only meat I'd consider buying in town. A raw split chicken breast costs $5, by the way. This store is not a bargain. But instead of running around all over town looking for turkeys and figuring out how to convert gas mark ticks to degrees F, I'll be visiting some maternity hospital somewhere, teaching two wome the Ministry gave us to do accurate data collection. Truth be told, I'm somewhat relieved at not having to make this meal. If they didn't like something, I would be tarnishing the reputation of our country. Too much responsibility. It's a lot of pressure to be the representative for an entire country. If I do something, people are constantly projecting it to mean that all Americans do that. That is not always the case...but very difficult to explain to people. What can you do?

I have a new food obsession, thanks to Stolichniy. They have an outdoor area set up where you can buy chebureiki, manti, plov, and bliny. Their bliny ROCK. You stand outside in the cold air, all bundled up, waiting patiently for a woman to work her 5 skillets and make you 250 grams, 1 kg, however many you want....The standing and waiting reminds me of my Russia days where you had to stand in line for stuff like bread. The smell is deeeeeelicious. The bliny are divine. Here they eat them with smetana, which is a type of sour cream that is like crème fraîche but heavier. I like them sweet, so have found this Nutella-like choco-hazelnut paste that kicks Nutella's ass, because it actually has these teeny, tasty nuggets of hazelnuts in it. The bliny are so good that you can eat them plain, however.

The good news is that the store is a good 20-min walk from my place, so I don't go there often. The bad news is that it's 5 min from my favorite wifi cafe, so I generally go there on weekends after hanging out at Caffe Delia. Then I get my bliny fix.

Our cook at work, Natalya Fyodorovna, sometimes makes bliny for us. They disappear verrrrrry quickly. :) They are really quite good. Then again 99% of what she cook for us is really quite tasty...

snow!

When I stepped outside today, what I thought was rain is in fact snow! Big, fat, white flakes. I can't imagine what it's like on Chimbulak right now. I think I'll have to go up there this weekend...

Most people here don't seem overly thrilled with the snow. Probably has a lot to do with the horrific traffic jams and crappy drivers. Having grown up in Chicago, I LOVE the stuff. Don't get enough of it in Baltimore. I'm sure that living in condos where snow gets magically cleaned for you porbably has a lot to do with why I find it fun and not a nuisance.

It has been snowing steadily all morning, and it's sticking. It's very, very peaceful sitting up on my office on the third floor, looking out the windows: I see rooftops and trees covered in wet, white, fluff. I am very, very tempted to put on my boots and snowboarding pants (thanks for sending them, Steve!) and trudge to my friend's house, and drag them all out to play with me outside for a while. I know they'll think I'm crazy, but it's nice to be a foreigner in these cases---they just chalk it up to being "a crazy American." Since we're not from here, they indulge in our little whims more than they would the average adult, I'm convinced.

Now, to make this snow day complete I need to get my hands on some Slivovitz, or, "Shljivka" as my mom calls it. Hot shljivka is the perfect way to warm up after playing outdoors in the snow. Carmelize some sugar in a saucepan, dump in some Shljivka, and drink. You may want to water it down a bit, however, if you're new to the wonders of plum brandy. I served watered down stuff to my friends in DC and Baltimore and many of them don't remember very well what transpired thereafter. :) So be forewarned: This stuff packs a wallop.

hot and bothered

It was 86 degrees in my place when I got home last night. I had to open a huge window on the balcony, the balcony door, and turn on the AC to get to sleep. Thank goodness it's supposed to drop into the 40s at the end of the week. Then I don't have to walk around my place in shorts.

My friend was telling me about her experience yesterday with her mother-in-law (MIL). MIL has been having problems getting her blood pressure under control, and has been bopping from doctor to doctor--both here and in Moscow--all offering different remedies and advice. I'm not a doctor, but some of what I've been getting second hand ranges from utter bunk to thoroughly appalling.

So yesterday a doctors orders an ultrasound to check something out. They go to the ultrasound department at 11 am, no one is there. There is a hallway of people waiting. After 30 minutes, two techs arrive, take two people, then announce that they're no longer doing ultrasounds for the day. Fortunately, my friend and her MIL went there with a friend who knows a professor at this hospital. So they call him. He tells them to go to another ultrasound cabinet. They go there and are refused. They call this prof again, he argues with some people, then tells them to go to another ultrasound cabinet in the basement. They are refused. They call the prof again, and this time he succeeds in canjoling/threatening this cabinet to accept her.

My friend summed it up like this: "By the end of the ordeal, I concluded that if you don't have money or don't have connections, forget it--you'll die before you get the care you need."

I'll blog later about the emergency medical care her MIL got at home Saturday night. Let's say that instead of providing her evidence-based care, this private medical service did a gazillion unnecessary things in order to charge them an exorbitant amount of money. Insisting on IVs, cardiograms, etc. And then were like "Um, the patient's head hurts. Do you have any aspirin? We don't."

Do you feel better about the American medical system now?

Indian summer

We had a blast of fall early in October for about a week, but it has been quite mild of late. Great for walking around Almaty to concerts and enjoying the Baraholka. But not so great when the heat has been turned on in your flat and you have no way of turning it off. It is pretty toasty in my place. I've taken to turning on the AC and/or opening balconies and windows to keep the temperature reasonable. Kind of a sad waste of energy. Welcome to command economies.

What is the Baraholka, you may ask? Click here for a live tour, courtesy of youtube. It's this ginormous half-outdoor bazaar where you can acquire anything: clothes, rugs, electronics, housewares, toys, furs, tchotchkes....it's like a flea market but with new stuff. It's so huge it's square footage is measured in square kilometers, not meters. Vendors have teeny little box-like shops squeezed into these narrow rows. And it's just row after row after row of stuff.

There are sections. The "Evropa" area has nicer stuff, including shapkas and ushankas, or your traditional Russian fur hats. Muskrat, mink, arctic fox....they didn't have sable, which is the most high-end it gets. There are cheap, Wal-Marty sections, and even a seperate IKEA-like building with boutique after boutique selling higher-end stuff. I saw advertisements for snowboards, even. Too bad it's been too warm to board! (Though it's probably cold enough up on Chimbulak.)

The prices are better than what you'd find downtown, but is it worth it? If you don't mind an hour-and-a-half ride on a bus or paying $5 for a cab to get there, and don't mind wandering about through endless mazes of stuff, then it just might be. If that sort of thing drives you nuts, don't bother. If I go back, it's going to be for fur shapkas, and I'm going to do a surgical strike: in and out for only specific items in a specific place. (My heartfelt apologies to my vegetarian/PETA/animal-loving readers. I felt like Lara in Dr. Zhivago when I put one on.)

Saturday I went to the Almaty musical conservatory for a concert. There were artists from Germany, France, South Korea, and of course, Kazakhstan. We got treated to everything from piano solos to string quartets to opera singers. The piece de resistance was a 6-piano ensemble, which we were told was a very rare event. The music was fabulous and ranges from Schubert and Rachmaninoff to a Kazakh student in the conservatory's amazing modern piano trio piece.

The head of the conservatory played this Mistress of Ceremonies role where she announced every act and talked a little bit about them. Especially if they were students. Sometimes she said things I thought a bit too personal or inappropriate (i.e., this was a student of mine, his parents were famous pianists/organists that died before their time, so I told the Moscow conservatory they had to accept him because of his parents. Or announcing to everyone after someone's piano solo that he had made a mistake.). After every piece, members of the audience walked up to the stage to give the musician(s) a bouquet of flowers. At the end of the event, there were probably 80 bouquets lying at the foot of the stage.

People also clap in unison here when they want an encore. We all clap on beat together, and the person comes out, bows some more, gets more flowers, and then goes backstage again.

FYI, whistling here is the equivalent of a boo or a hiss rather than a form of "woo hoo." I learned that the painful way when I was in Moscow at the Bolshoi many years back. One of the students in my group thought the performance so stirring that he stuck his fingers in his mouth and started whistling. We quickly realized that that was a bad thing when everyone within a 20-foot radius gasped, whipped around, and stared open-mouthed at him. How could one boo the dancers at the Bolshoi??? That was terribly embarassing. Good thing I don't know how to do those loud finger whistles, since I'm rendered incapable of making such a cultural faux-pas.

A little bit of culture

Anara's neighbor works at the music conservatory, and they are having a month-long celebration of music. I inquired about going to a concert, and Anara inquired with her neighbor, who came home with VIP tickets for nearly every concert for the entire month. It's all about connections here. I would have been happy buying regular tickets, but it's not like I can refuse them. I'll see if anyone at work wants the extras.

So Saturday we're getting all dolled up and going to the conservatory. I'll let you know what it's like.

Discussing this cultural event reminds me of the night Steve and I went to the Opera, so I shall blog about that.

The Abai Opera House is quite lovely. I understand from the British Airways inflight magazine that the opera house was built buy Italian POWs, presumably WWII. It got a face lift not too long ago, and was beautiful, indeed. Don't you agree?

Now, this was my first opera so I don't have much to compare it to. I thought the singing was great. The costumes and scenery were also very, very well done. The dancing wasn't so hot. The ballet dancers definitely looked like novices. In fact, some where so bad that I started wondering if it was status/money/connections that got them their jobs. (That is very, very common here. Status buys university slots, jobs, permits.... As do bribes. Bribing is so common in some fields that a noun has been developed from the verb "to bribe" to describe a person who takes bribes for a living. Customs officials, for example. But I digress....)

To be fair, the only other ballet I've been to as an adult is the Bolshoi Theatre in Moscow, which is the best of the best. So I may be comparing the Almaty dancers to an impossibly high standard. But still. Even Steve felt like it was almost comic watching them.

We watched two acts of Aida and then blew before the final act. There was a screen to the right of the stage that described what was taking place in Russian, but by the time I read it and figured it out, then tried to translate and whisper the main points to Steve, I would miss another screen of explanation. And to be perfectly honest, it wasn't that interesting. We definitely enjoyed our cocktails more than the opera. So much for being culture vultures...

Temujin, or Ghengis Khan

I am doing some serious backtracking with today's post, going back to some September activities when Steve was here. Let's see if the firewall allows for some photos...woo hoo, it's being nice today! :) Score.

So we decided to go out one night for dinner with my friends to Temujin. Temujin was the name given to Ghengis Khan when he was born. That's as much history I can give you, all I know is the restaurant we went to. Its decor was very warrior-like, as you can see here.

They have a typican Mongolian BBQ or Mongolian Grill there. For those of you who may be uninitiated, here's the concept: You go to a salad-bar-type set-up, and fill up a bowl with meat, veggies, oils, and spices. Then you hand over to a dude with a massive grill/wok and he stir-fries it for you. Then you eat your own concoction. Repeat as many times as you wish.



Steve and I have had Mongolian grill before, but my friends haven't so we thought it would be fun to show them how it's done. They thought it was cool. Though according to Roma, it's not technically Mongolian. Evidently (and don't ask me how he knows this, for I haven't attempted to verify it) the whole Mongolian Grill concept was developed be some dude living in Isreal as a cool gimmick for a restaurant. Perhaps this is how urban legends get started?

And this is where Steve and I got to try horsemeat. It was so good, that I had a second helping. Sorry if you love horsies, but I couldn't not try it. Tasted like meat. It was lean, not gamey. So now I can say I've tried horse. Though not authentic horse the way Kazakhs eat it, as a sausage. I've seen them in the stores and they don't look very appetizing, so I don't know that I'll actually try 'em. We'll see what happens...


My friends and their son, especially, really liked the make-your-own-dish concept. As they say, a good time was had by all. We ate, drank cocktails--including introducing Anara to margaritas and gin-and-tonics--and talked lots. They really liked Steve, despite the language barrier. But playing interpeter all night took its toll. (OK, maybe it was the gin followed by two beers.) The last photo of the night, I looked tired. Or buzzed. So I won't post it here.


Pricewise, the five of us ate and drank for probably around $100. Not considered expensive by Western standards, but for people earning an average of $750/month, it's a different story. But there are more expensive places to eat. One night Steve and I decided to have some sushi. I chose the sushi bar based on its proximity, without knowing it was the priciest in town because they fly the fish in from Japan daily. A sashimi boat for two that would have run us $60 to $70 in the US cost us $150 in Almaty. But I must say that the fish was freakin' SPECTACULAR. Best sashimi I've had in my life, hands down. Even their salmon was delectable, and I usually find the salmon so boring...Ready for two random bits of trivia? The place is named The Guiness Pub. And Richard Gere has eaten there. Go figure.

settling in

I've been in Almaty without a lick of travel for nearly two months now. And I've settled into a nice, easy, routine. When I see my office-mate dashing off every other week to here and there, taking 2 AM flights, I say to myself "Better him than me." (Though I am heading to Turkmenistan soon, once all my paperwork get approved by various officials at various levels.)

Work is close enough for a brisk walk or a lovely stroll, depending on how much in a rush I am to get to my destination. On the way there are several fruit/veggie stands, at least 15 convenience stores, and a supermarket. So picking up fresh produce or bread or whatever is easy-peasy.

Some nights I go home, other nights I hop on a bus and head to my friend's apartment. Anara has been very committed and diligent about learning English, and so we meet for 3 to 5 lessons a week, depending on our free time. She's got a great textbook, does her homework, and has a good instinct for English. It's been a gratifying to work with her. I didn't expect it to help my Russian, but it has, especially with precision in my vocabulary and grammar.

If she comes to my house, we hang for a few hours, working through her English book, drinking tea, or sometimes beer, eating pumpkin seeds, chak-chak, or suhariki. Chak-chak rocks. It's a huge, sticky, pile of thin, crunchy, deep-fried strips of dough that are covered in a honey/sugar mixture. Sometimes they add nuts or dried fruit to it, but I like the plain type best. I don't get it often because of the horrific caloric/cardiovascular implications of eating such stuff regularly. But dayyyyyum is it nummy. Suhariki are little strips of dried-out bread, nice and light and crunchy. The rye ones are especially good.

So we nibble and crunch and laugh and groan over her English textbook. She thinks articles (a, an, the) are a nightmare. I explain how their verbs of motion are even worse (every motion has two verbs: one verb to do that "motion" in general, another verb to do that motion to a specific destination, i.e., fly/fly to there, walk/to here or there, run, swim, stroll, bike.... They even have two words for here and there: here/there in general, and here/there if you're using a verb of motion to get here/there. Grrrr.) She claims that in Russian you pronounce every letter exactly as you see it. So our English with it's silent "e"s and "ph" that reads as "f" and "ti" that reads as "sh" and things like "ough" and "igh" are evil. I point out that many "o"s in Russian are pronounced as "a"s. She concedes, but then states that that's the only exception, whereas English has a gazillion variations. I agree, and explain to her that they have 30-something letters for 30-something sounds, but we have only 26 letters for 44 sounds (according to the textbook). Despite denigrating one another's languages and struggling with crazy grammatical/useage principals, it's really quite enjoyable.

Other nights, I go to her house and they feed me before we study. Now that Roma's parents are back from Moscow we are a gaggle: It's Roman and Anara, their son Svyatik, their dog Don, Roman's parents Tamara and Anatolyi, Tamara's mom "Babushka," and Tamara's dog Tyapa. Oh, and Svyatik's pet rat with some funky glorious name I've forgotten. They live in apartments next door to one another, and whether I'm in one place or the other, family members are constantly going in and out, stopping to say hello, have dinner, a cup of tea, chit-chat, ask a question, etc. Last night we were talking American movies with Roma's father, and I found out that the title of the old Marilyn Monroe/Tony Curtis film, "Some Like It Hot, " was translated to "Jazz is Only for Women" or something along those lines. We recommended films we should see, and discussed having a mini film festival.

So goes my routine. Not too different from every-day life in America, no? You get up, you go to work, you eat, you sleep, and in-between you hope for happiness, good health, and that the good times outweigh the bad.

old man winter

We went from having temps in the 70s last week to the 50s this week. My radiators have been turned on (ura! [ura=hooray]), and I've started wearing layers to work. Great walking weather, nice and crisp and brisk.

I've been eyeing all of the Chimbulak information, I am itching to hit the slopes! Fortunately next week my boss is off, which means I just might head up there on a weekday next week.

Thursday is independence day here, so I'll get to make up my Fourth of July after all! We have Thursday and Friday off, but have to work Sunday to make up for having Friday off. Does that make sense to you? It didn't to me, either. But at the office we've decided to go out and party Wednesday night after work to celebrate the holiday. I'm looking forward to a little shashleek, a little dancing, and a lot of vodka. ;> I will definitely take my camera. Stay tuned for the debrief of Independence Day, Kazakh-style.

random observations

Last night on my way home from work, I rounded the corner of my building and ran into a woman who was all decked out. Gold sequins top and metallic gold boots to match. Women here have the wackiest sense of fashion. Many of them think they're glam and western, but a lot of them end up looking like color-blind pole dancers. Less is not more here. More is definitely more. I bet they think I'm really plain and bland here. Believe you me, I can live with it.

It's nice to work in a place where you can open a window. I always hated being hermetically sealed into the Candler building, freezing my butt off in the summer with the AC blowing full blast. The only negative is flies (and the occasional bee) flying in. Some days the dogs barking (our office is on a residential street, a few blocks from the main drag) are pleasant, other days they get on my nerves. Today I'm enjoying them.

I love hacks, otherwise known as gypsy cabs. Stick your hand out, and any old person who wants to make a few extra tenge will pull over. In Baltimore, sometimes I'd have to wait up to 10 minutes for a cab. Here, I rarely wait more than 60 seconds before someone pulls over. Nice, convenient, and dirt cheap. Especially nice on those mornings when I've stayed up too late watching Boston Legal (damn you, Star World with your US programming!) and overslept. I'm at the office in 4 minutes, thanks to random men driving me to work for US $1.67. (Don't worry, mom, it's much safer than I'm making it sound.)

They've been building a metro for years here, but the locals don't actually believe it will ever be completed. In addition to the streets being filled with cars, the buses and trams are PACKED. Even during off-peak hours. Last night at around 10pm there was a bus that had every seat full and tons of people were standing throughout. Then it stopped at a stop, and about another 10-12 people got on. My space bubble sensibilities are easily offended in such situations, and I've actually not gotten onto a bus if it's been too full. But I've also ridden the totally packed, rush hour ones. We literally were jammed in there like sardines, and every time someone got on/off it was bodies smooshing into one another left and right. Not fun, totally germy, but what can you do, other than rotate your body so that it's a woman rubbing up against your butt instead of a guy? Yeah, I know: walk or stop a car.

My office buys my toilet paper for me. As well as cleaning supplies, detergent, and stuff for the apartment (which is theirs) like light bulbs, batteries, etc. It's a little embarassing to come home to a 10-pack of TP that the driver dropped off while you were at work.

Leaf Peeping

With all of the trees in Almaty changing color, it's truly a spectacular fall. We had weather in the 50s last week, but this week it's mid-60s with the sun shining brightly through the golden leaves. It makes for a marvelous walk to work in the mornings. And a lovely view out of the windows/balcony facing the courtyard full of trees.

This weekend promises to be just as nice, so I'll have to find an opportunity to do some hiking somwhere. I can't spend such weather indoors. Maybe I'll go to Medeo again? Or maybe I'll walk along the little Almaty river? We shall see what transpires. I think I'll end up at Cafe Delia one of those days, sitting outside and enjoying the wi-fi and people watching.

What is Medeo, you may ask? One of Almaty's sources of pride. It's in the Guiness Book of World Records as the world's highest-elevation skating rink, built up in the mountains. It's near the ski resort Chimbulak. It's a stop for all tourists and all wedding parties. While we were there no less than three wedding parties pulled up (including one in a limo) and they danced, drank, and celebrated at Medeo. It's a tradition. Since I live on the main drag that takes you to Medeo, I'm always seeing decorated cars honking and whizzing their way uphill.

There's also a bunch of stairs (841, to be exact) to the top. Which Steve and I took. The engineers were clever, indeed, when they put this together. You look up and see the end of the steps and think to yourself, "well, that ain't so bad" and you hike up them. Then you look up and there are more. Each set of 150+ steps is inset from the other (it's probably more the shape of the mountain than engineers, right?) so you can't tell how much more you have to go---each time, you think you're almost there. That's how they get you to the top.

Or, you can pay someone to drive you up there.

They're constructing a lift with gondolas that will take you from Medeo to the skiiing in Chimbulak, which is awesome. Bus to Medeo (40 tenge), lift to Chimbulak, and you are hitting the slopes, baybee! Too bad they're still constructing. We watched them use a helicopter with moving wet concrete from the mixing site at the bottom of Medeo to places where they were installing the towers that are going to hold the lines for the gondolas. According to Steve's practiced engineering eye, it was way more cost-effective to fly the concrete and equipment around than try to build roads in the mountains. Very cool to watch. I'm glad he was there to figure out what they were doing, because I had no clue. I've never poured concrete in my life! Though I've always admired cement mixers on the highway...

I will upload pics of Medeo for your viewing pleasure this weekend.

earthshaking!

Last night at 10 PM, I felt the couch shaking. It was like I was in a bumper car and cars were bumping into my back end constantly, but lightly. I wasn't imagining it, it was my first earthquake!

My first reaction was a slightly disconcerted "What the hell?" Then, remembering I was in an earthquake zone, I was like "Oooh, this might be an earthquake." Then, remembering my cousin Ani describing small earthquakes in Macedonia, I looked at the chandelier to see if it was swinging. (He has said that sometime it's so slight you wonder if you imagined it or stood up too quickly, so he checks the chandeliers. He takes swinging as confirmation of an earthquake.)

The chandelier was completely still, and the mild bumping had stopped, so I dismissed it. Had I known I had experienced such a momentous first, I would have poured a shot of something and had a little toast.

Top 10 Ways to ID Americans in Almaty

Here is my Top 10 list for the ways I can spot an American tourist around here. American tourists:

10. Walk around reading the "Central Asia" Fodor's Guide book.

9. Carry a backpack.

8. (For woman under 65) Wear comfortable walking shoes.

7. Use the recycling bins on the street for actual recycling materials instead of ordinary garbage.

6. Are polite: Use the words "please" and "thank you," hold doors open for people, don't cut in line, don't stare, observe personal space boundaries, etc.

5. Smile way more than the locals do.

4. Are nice to waitstaff.

3. Use a garbage receptacle instead of just dropping their ice cream wrappers, beer bottles, and other assorted trash in the middle of the sidewalk (see photo below).

2. Have good teeth.

And the number one way to ID Americans in Almaty....

1. Are the only ones not hocking loogies/spitting/doing the farmer's blow while walking down the street.

I took the picture below while hiking around Medeo, up in the mountains. If it wasn't plastic bags, it was beer or vodka bottles, cigarette packages, and even the occasional Durex box. Sad, sad, sad.

To be perfectly fair, however, I have seen more trash lying around some Baltimore bus stops than I have in Almaty. For a city of 1.3 million people, and for a former Soviet country, it could be a whole helluva lot worse. But when Steve and I walked along the canal, I wanted to cry at how much garbage people had pitched into it. :*( Thinking green is pretty much unheard of here. *sigh* Maybe I should embark on a new career??? Or at least set up a local Greenpeace chapter?

kept in the dark

My power was out again yesterday when I got home. I have learned to tell by (a) the total darkness enveloping that area, and (b) the traffic lights not working.

Now, traffic is bad in Almaty and the drivers are even worse. When you couple aggressive drivers with neither working traffic lights nor a policeman to control flow of traffic, it's even more dangerous than usual. I won't discuss what it was like crossing the street last night, 'cause I know mom and dad read this blog. I felt like George Costanza in that Seinfeld episode when he was trying to move the Frogger machine across the street.

Fortunately the previous resident left one candle so I wasn't completely in the dark. One's cell phone can emit quite a bit of light in a dark stairwell, which makes unlocking your door easier than feeling your way through the pitch blackness. I also have a gas stove, so was able to heat up my dinner and boil water for some tea.

I also had brought my laptop home from the office so I could watch the DVD my friends got me. It's got all three seasons' episodes (pirated, of course) of the Russian Sex and the City Show that I've fallen in love with, Balzakovskiy Vozrast. I've finally figured out why I love it so much: The main character is a kindly, intellectual woman named Vera, whose love interest is a man that very much reminds me of Steve. I'm essentially re-living the beginnings of my relationship through watching them, which is fun. (Though Steve was never married to a woman to help her retain a Moscow work permit, nor did he sleep with said on-paper-only wife, knocking her up while also professing to love me. Storylines such as this are why the show is subtitled "Or, All Men Are Bastards".) So I watched 5 episodes last night, 2 of which were in the dark. Then the power came on for about an hour and a half. Then it went off again. Laptops emit a surprising amount of light from them. Thank goodness I have a good battery. And a warm, fuzzy blanket that I can wrap myself in.

The heat doesn't get turned on until October 15th. But after playing with my AC units, I discovered that they are also heating units. The one in the living room works, but emits screeching noises that vary from barely noticeable to annoying enough to make your ears bleed. That's when it gets turned off. I'd rather be cold than deaf. The one in the bedroom refuses to work, but I've got warm covers, so it's really not needed. We'll see what it's like once the radiators get turned on....hopefully I won't be running the AC or opening windows to keep it to a tolerable temp. Interesting how most places here don't have individual climate control, no?

Friday night I went out for a drink after work with a fellow American girl, and we got some unwanted attention at one point. Three old dudes who had obviously been partying came up to us and asked us in English if we were Americans. We immediately switched to Russian (we're far more likely to convey to them that we have a clue about their culture and aren't going to be messed with/swindled/naive if we're speaking in their tongue) and when one of the guys asked what our names were, I responded "Vera Petrovna." Name + patronymic, which is the female derivative of your father's name. Between my name (it's terribly schoolmarmish), face, and lack of American accent at this point, this dude was having none of it. He was convinced I was Russian and was just faking being American. I'm sure the booze that he had consumed previously also had something to do with it. Unfortunately, I'm only "passing" as a Russian about 50% of the time. Cab drivers generally can smell my American-ness a mile a way when I'm bartering fares with them. Fortunately, most can also tell I've been here long enough to know what reasonable fares are, so I'm not getting ripped off. The rest, I just tell 'em to drive off....for some reason it's always young dudes in a BMW that want to rip you off. Like it's not enough that daddy bought you a Beemer?? Sheesh.

I'll post about the overprivileged youth of the oligarchy/businessmen/politicians/schemers some other time. That's a whole other discussion unto itself.

Kok-Tobe

This is a shot of Almaty from up on Kok-Tobe. Those are the mountains on the eastern side of the country, near the China border.

Kok-Tobe is somewhat of a tourist trap. But, it was close to my house, offered us an easy, leisurely afternoon, and we could walk down the hill and straight to my friends' flat for dinner. So off we went. Kok-Tobe, by the by, means blue hill in Kazkah (what would I do without google?).



You hop on a gondola downtown and get transported aerially to the top of the Hill (see those cables in that photo? It's like being on a ski lift, but you're floating over people's homes and a junkyard).

In addition to building a television tower on Kok-Tobe, there are also overpriced cafes ($8 for a Guiness), a small animal exhibit, and some crazy luge-cum-roller-buggy ride, some loudspeakers that some people may find annoying, the obligatory discotech, and even a yurt (see next photo).


It was a great view of the sprawling Almaty city, but we couldn't get any good photos because of the smog. So you'll have to take my word for it.

They also had a bronze statue of the Beatles, circa early 1960s. I've read that some Beatle's fan here had a dream to get a Beatles statue in his city. So he worked tirelessly to raise money and get permission to get the statue up on Kok-Tobe. And now it's in the Guiness Book of World Records as the world's highest elevation Beatles statue. Sorry, we didn't feel like taking a picture of it. It was slightly disturbing, and there were swarms of young Kazakh students around it that we didn't feel like waiting for.

Chimbulak (or, Gary Busey almost smushed me)

Chimbulak is the local ski resort. It's about a half-hour drive from Almaty city center. You can get within 3.5 km of the resort on a bus for 40 tenge, or about 33 cents US. Drivers hang out at the bus stop across from Hotel Kakakhstan and offer to drive you up there, for anywhere from $8-20 US, depending on how large your group is, where you're from, how long you've been here--all of the things that factor into whether or not you get ripped off. We went in a BMW on the way up (the guy working us was like "you'll be riding in an all-leather interior"), and then walked downhill the 3.5 km to where we could catch the bus home. I'm far more comfortable living the proletariat lifestyle than the bourgeoise one.

We went there on September 28. The pics aren't that hot because it was snowing, which obscured what I believe is a breathtaking view. The slopes look great, and I am definitely looking forward to some snowboarding. I'm so used to having to fly to good skiing back in Baltimore that I'm very, very excited at the prospect of being able to call in sick and be shredding up there an hour later. :) Please don't tell my boss I said that.

They have thick jackets for rent for 400 tenge (about $3.30 US), and I'm glad we sprung for it. We would have frozen our tootsies off otherwise--it was about 20 degrees F up there. And we didn't go all the way up to the highest slopes, either. In the city, it was probably 55 degrees. And the week before, it was hitting 75.

I know you're waiting for the Gary Busey part, so I shall end the suspense. After riding around on a couple of lifts in the stillness that accompanies snowstorms, we hit a little building with a cafe on the first floor and a disco on the second floor. I stopped in the bathroom, and on the way out, this 6-foot-something blonde guy with wild hair, weaving very unsteadily on his feet starts teetering, practically into me. I looked at him and started---I could have sworn it was Gary Busey. But I figured I was just too startled from almost getting crushed by this towering hulk of a man.

Steve was waiting for me about 5 feet from where all of that happened, and the first words out of his mouth were "What the hell is Gary Busey doing here????"

Relaying this to my friends last night, they immediately put it together: There was an international film festival in Almaty last week. They did a little googling, and lo and behold, Gary Busey was indeed in Almaty for it, according to the local newspaper. As was Gerard Depardieu (sp?) and some others. So we weren't imagining things, after all.

Unfortunately, I don't think it was jet lag that made him that unsteady on his feet.

Here's a great shot of Steve next to a "Caution: Cliff" sign. Yes, I asked him to pretend he was falling off the cliff. I bet there's a lot more snow on the ground now--we had rain here yesterday, which had to have been snow up there. I bet there will be great skiiing in about two weeks' time. Yeah!

look out, Pookie....

...you just might get a sibling. This is a Kazakh dog, similar to a Saluki. The breed is called "Tazi." We had a work excursion to celebrate a colleague's 50th birthday, and there were a number of these hunting dogs at the eagle sanctuary we visited. I was way more interested in the dogs than the birds. They were just lovely, and the adolescents couldn't get enough of the petting.

So Pookie, you may have to mentally prepare yourself for a sibling. ;> I wonder if you'll look this happy having to share your humans with another dog?!?!

Out of everything I left behind back in the States, I miss this little one-eyed furball most of all.

time flies

I can't believe the two weeks (OK, 12 days) that Steve was here flew by so quickly. We did all the things we're supposed to do in Almaty: Kok-Tobe, Medeo, Chimbulak, the parks, fountains, monuments, museums, lots of restaurants/cafes, and even the opera. I will post a place a day this week to try and catch you all up on the lovely time we had.

We also caught up on sleep, which was verrrrrrrry nice. That's what vacation is for, right? :)

Today I'll post about Almaty city proper. It's a lovely walking city: lots and lots of trees, lots of "shossays" or small green walking streets with benches placed between condo buildings. It cushions you physically and acoustically from the crazy traffic here (and the drivers are VERY aggressive), and provides young couples places to make out at night, partially shrouded by the trees and bushes. Do I wish cities in America could become as pedestrian friendly. I'd be a lot happier, and I think people might actually become more physically fit.

It also has a lot of parks, big and small, with many fountains and a monument or two. Like the Pushkin monument in front of a literary school. Or the Abai monument on his street, etc. We focused more on the fountains than on the busts, so here are a few:

This lovely fountain is across the street from my flat. If it wasn't for a huge billboard, I would be able to see this from my living room window. The fountain changes color, from white to yellow to blue to purple, and Steve had the patience to get the shot while it was purple, my favorite color. (Yes, I really am a 5-year old on the inside.)

The building behind the fountain is Hotel Kazakhstan. In real life at night, the top of the building looks like a tsarina's crown. It's lacy and light and sparkly and lovely. And a great landmark--if I ever lose my sense of direction, all I have to do is look up and look for the crown, and that's where I live.

Here's a shot of me in front of the National Museum of Kazakhstan, with one of the camels you can find througout the city.

And also a shot of the wide wide boulevard nearby. This traffic shot is precisely why I love the quite green strips and side streets so much.

This is a great fountain of the chinese zodiac. It's about 1.5 blocks from my flat. Isn't that nice? You know you'd get your butt off the couch much more often and go for a walk if you had one of these nearby.

This park is called "The Park of Rest" and has amusement park rides, a movie theatre, cafes, lots of stray dogs, loudspeakers with music, and they're even building a water park and little island there. Some of the amusement park rides were very Soviet-esque, and others were like the dead ride ghost park in Bishkek (see http://almatyvera.blogspot.com/2007_08_01_archive.html). But in general, a lovely place to walk. Next time I'll bring a bunch of meat so I can feed the puppies I ran into something more than bread from the market.

Lunch break over.....got lots of catching up to do so back to work I go. Stay tuned for more Almaty pics tomorrow.

happy happy joy joy

Steve touched down in Almaty around 5:03 AM Monday morning, and I have been the happiest girl in Almaty ever since I saw him through the glass wall separating international arrivals and the throngs of people anxiously awaiting them. He immediately saw me, as I shot up into the air and started jumping up and down and waving. So I was excited. Sue me.

Ever since we have been hanging out, walking TONS through the city admiring the fountains, memorials, and parks, shopping for pomegranites and other local fruits, veggies, and other goods at the Green Bazaar, and just enjoying each other's company. I had forgotten how we revert to snickering 13-year-olds when together. :)

So I will be logging on very little while he is here! So sorry, dear readers. But I'd much rather spend time with him than look at a computer screen. There will be time enough to do that again when he leaves....

is someone at the NYT reading my blog?

http://www.nytimes.com/2007/09/10/world/europe/10sitcom.html?em&ex=1189656000&en=53663b3615f7d656&ei=5087%0A

I scooped the grey lady. Not bad for a public health person.

It is soooo good to be back in Almaty. Sunday I went to the green bazaar and saw my sweet Turkish lady who sells me homemad bread, cheese, and yogurt. When I got there, her bread was still hot. Hubba hubba. It's nice to be back where you know how to get around, where things are, etc. My colleagues were a bit amused that an American was showing them around Almaty while they were here.

Fall is slowly setting in and now it's lovely to sit around with open windows. Daytime is warm, and nighttime is cool. Perfect walking weather. And perfect weather for wandering about Almaty at night. My Turkmen colleague kept commenting about how alive and young and energetic Almaty is. Any time we were walking about, there were tons of people about, especially youth. Ashghabat was kindof a dead city---not a lot of people walking around. So I can see why she said what she said. Here even neighborhood supermarkets are open 24 hours a day. Whereas my 7-11 in Mt. Vernon closed at midnight!

My landlord changed cable companies again. Every time I come back from a trip all of the channels are different. So I have to learn them all over again, which is a PITA. I have about 5 US channels now, including CNN, a channel that shows American football, and I even stumbled upon a Seinfeld episode last night. So Steve will have more selection while he's here. Unfortunately, last night I couldn't find the channel the Bukhin family was on. I am hoping I didn't lose them for good...

party time

I have a full house! Or rather, full flat.

My colleague, Lola, from Dushanbe flew in with me yesterday and is staying in my flat until Sunday.

Today another colleague, Aina, flew in from Ashgabat and is staying in my flat until Sunday.

Tomorrow, Nazgul from Bishkek is driving in and is staying in my flat until Sunday.

It is going to be like one giant sleepover. I feel like I'm in college again! :) Fortunately, these women are all great, sweet, and fun to hang out with. And my favorite colleague from Almaty, Galina, is also in on the fun.

Tonight we're going to Turandot, the Chinese restaurant we went to for my birthday. Tomorrow we have a meeting that I've insisted on having on improving data quality while they're all here. Then tomorrow night, it's party time. We will have to bust into that Turkmen cognac I brought home.

For two of the three guests, it is their first time in Almaty. I am so pleased to be able to repay all of their help and kindness while in their towns with showing them around my city. Despite being on the road more than being in Almaty, I can still act like an "Almatinka" (native Almaty-woman)!

Too bad they all have to fly to Romania Sunday. At least I'll be able to sleep in. :) I've done enough travelling for the time being, let someone else deal with early-morning wake-up calls and airports! And seatmate B.O.

pretty as a picture

This monument is to a king named Somoni. He is on Tajik currency, and much revered. Some presidents claim to be descendants of this king, who evidently did some good things for the Tajik people that I don't know much about. Which is not a good thing. (The museum I actually made it to on my last day was closed for repairs!)

This is the garden behind the monument. There were lovely roses everywhere amongst the dirty, shoddy, and mostly non-functioning fountains.

And this is Lenin pointing the way out of that depressing amusement park! Check out his cap and vest. So proletarian, eh? I can't figure out if that's bird poop on the base of the statue or something else. Either way, the distressed nature of the statue is rather fitting, don't you think?

This was an interesting contrast to the Lenin statue. It was about 10 feet behind Lenin. The Soviets tried to Rossify Central Asia, but it didn't quite work out.

Alas, I never made it to the kareoke bar/disco club. So I have no idea what kareoke-ing is like in Dushanbe. 'Tis a pity. In my 20s, I would have been there every night, Copacabana-ing like a superstar! I'm getting far too staid in my old age.

Tomorrow I'll download the photos from my camera and post the beautiful mountain scenery. I was so taken with the scenery on today's flight back to Almaty that I didn't even sleep on the early morning flight. And am paying for it now! :p~ I think it's time to go home and take a nap.

road weary

Just flew back into Dushanbe this morning. I was in Khujand for a few days, where we stayed in the best hotel and largest city in the region. The price we paid for that luxury (despite the "hot water" being slightly warmer than freezing cold) was that we had to bump and jog along the road to cities in the sticks like Konibodom and Isfara for an hour-and-a-half each way, each day. And because the only available flight back in today was in the AM, we had to hit three hospitals in two days. Which made for some very long days. (Thank goodness for Baltika beer. It hits the spot after a 14-hour day.)

I have calculated that I have been on the road 60% of my time since I got to Central Asia, and am definitely feeling road weary. This last trip was nearly three weeks, and Tajikistan was a bit rough on my psyche. Women's options are very, very limited here and it's hard meeting really sharp, strong-willed, hard-working and very competent women and know that they can only achieve so much. Maybe I'm hyper-sensitive to male chauvinism, but it appears that the men here pretty much have carte blanche to treat women like crap. That bothers me. And that I can't do anything about it bothers me even more.

But I won't bore you with my culture pains.

Out in the boondocks of Tajikistan it's very evident just how poor the country is. The first hospital we went to was built in the 1960s and hasn't been touched ever since. You don't want to imagine the structural, sanitation, and modernization issues there. Or the maternal morbidity rate.

Wintertime they only have electricity about two hours a day. Can you imagine running a maternity hospital under such circumstances? Yet the women we met working there were so kind, generous, and giving. I was telling them how delicious I found their fruits and vegetables and they gave me a watermelon to take with me. And they kept feeding us. And feeding us. After lunch, we came back and they had a huge dish of plov waiting for us. Literally expecting us to eat just after lunch! Mercy mercy.

So if the winter is especially cold, people are essentially freezing 22 hours a day. It's rare to acquire a generator, and even if you had one, gas is expensive when you're talking about a salary of about $30 US a month.

The regional maternity home was way better, but it's also a much newer building in the main regional city. They even had AC there.

I saw lots of Soviet-era stuff there still standing: Lenin statues, monuments to WWII, monuments to Soviet astronauts, general big Soviet monuments and lots of Soviet-era buildings. Alas, it was all out of the back of a moving car. I did manage to get some gorgeous aerial shots of Khujond and the mountains separating Khujond and Dushanbe. I also got some shots of some Tajik Air planes.

The flight into Khujond was on a small, old two-prop (AN-45, I think). There was no safety briefing, no cabin announcements, no assigned seating, and 4 pilots in the cockpit. The motors on the engines smelled like they were burning out as we were sitting on the runway and taxiing. People were talking on their cellphones during takeoff and landing. Not to worry--the plane was so old that there was no way that the cell technology could interfere with that instrumentation. The best part was that the seats were collapsable. If you pushed the seatback forward, it would totally fold over like a lawn chair. Once we did that to the seats in front of us, if I had put my feet up on the seat in front of me, I would have more space than a first-class seat in the US. *snork*

On the way back we were in a shiny new 736. Everyone here considered "BO-veeeng" (Boeing) the best so my colleague was happy about the "Boving" back. The two-prop feels a lot more like flying, though. On this flight, we got announcements from the crew in Tajik, Russian, and even English. I was definitely impressed. And on this flight, I knew better than to ask for a window seat. (When I asked on the outbound flight, I couldn't understand why the airport staff gave me a funny look. It's because there's no assigned seating. This time I knew the drill and didn't make the same faux-pas. By the by, the Tajik Air ground crew make the men wait to get on the plane--they say "Women first" and the men stop in their tracks.)

Tomorrow I have an early-morning flight back "home" to Almaty. In 12 days Steve arrives and I need to get ready for his being here! I am going to take the two weeks that he's here off, so have a lot of data to finalize before then. I will definitely get some sightseeing in and cultural events in while he's here, so soon enough will be able to post about something other than pregnant women, data, and maternities! I am sure that will be a pleasant change of pace for you, my dear readers.... and I'll be able to post some good photos, too!

yummy yummy in my tummy

I thought I'd write about how lovely of a tradition they have going on here regarding lunch.

In the office in Almaty and also here in Dushanbe, lunch is provided for a very nominal fee. It's damn tasty, healthy, and very, very convenient. The company I worked for many moons ago in Russia also had the same gig. (I still remember Leonid's blinis from 1993. Hubba-hubba.)

So generally they hire a sweet lady (little/old optional) who goes to the market every morning, buys whatever looks good, and then comes into the office and gets a-cookin'. In Almaty the aromas from the kitchen wafts up to my office on the 3rd floor, and by 12:15, when it's time to eat, my stomach is already a-rumblin' from the tantalizing smells.

There is always at least two homemade salads with fresh veggies, and usually three. The ripe summer tomatoes are always featured in these salads, as are the national herbs, parsley and dill. So are cukes and eggplant. As we move into fall, they'll switch to cabbage, cauliflower, and other seasonal veggies. And also in Almaty generally a soup, as well as a meat, starch, and other side. Pick and choose as you wish.

In the Dushabe office there is always a bowl of fruit, so I finished off today's meal of stuffed green Bulgarian peppers in broth with some red grapes and a peach. I am a total fruit and veggie 'ho both here and in Almaty, because the produce is just so damn fresh and tasty. Don't get me started on the melon stands that Uzbeki's set up all over town in Almaty. There are types of honeydew that I have never seen before, with a dark orangey-yellow skin. You can smell the sweetness of the melon through the thick skin, and when you get home and cut it open, it's like a honeysuckle field exploded through your kitchen. On more than one occasion, melon has been my dinner.

So now I'm sitting in a post-lunch food coma, sipping some black tea. I have also become a tea 'ho. Drinking tea is the national pasttime in Central Asia, and I have adopted it heartily. (Except that I like to use honey or sugar in every other cup, which is usually deemed unnecessary. But I like it strong and sweet.) I probably drink 4-6 cups a day. All those antioxidants are good for me, right? And no teabags, thankyouverymuch. You use loose-leaf tea and set up a "starter" teapot with a strong batch of brew. Boil water in the ubiquitous electric teakettles (they boil in 60-90 seconds), then you pour a bit of the "starter" tea into your cup and add the hot water. Viola! Your tea is ready. Our Almaty office cook adds in her own herbs and spices to the "starter," and boy is that stuff G-oooooo-oooood with a capital G!

To all my fellow coffee addicts: Fear not, for I have not foresaken you. I still need a good strong cup of coffee in the morning and travel with my french press. :) And the first item on my list of things for Steve to bring me next month when he visits was a 5# bag of coffee from Costco...

D is for Dushanbe

(note: blogger is not cooperating with photos today....I'll try to get them up for your viewing plelasure next time)


I almost titled this post "D is for depressing," but that wouldn't be an entirely accurate statement. I strive to report accurately, and I should not color my whole trip negatively because of one stripped-down former amusement park. (More on that below.)

Sunday I didn't have to work, and so spent the day wandering around Dushanbe. It's bigger than I thought, but definitely has that "small-town" feel. No skyscrapers, no towering buildings. Only 4 or 5 flights a day (one arriving around 8:30 in the morning, I can hear the rumbling of the engines from the kitchen in my flat), and that's a busy day.

It was nice and dry and hot and sunny. Got a little tan going, but also took care to walk lots in the shade. First I stopped at the main monument in the main square. I gave a policeman a heart attack by attempting to actually walk too close to the monument. *rolls eyes* If people were not meant to walk up the damn thing, why are there stairs there???

I wish I could tell you what the monument is to and what it means, but I have no idea. There were no explanations of anything I saw and photographed. So while I could appreciate their deisgn, structure, beauty, etc, I had no idea what it was meant to represent. I will ask one of my colleagues about them when we have some down time.

Behind this monument were several fountains (one of the four was actually working, and two boys were bathing in it) and a lovely garden. The designers made the lampposts look like flowers themselves. Nice touch. Mne nravilos' (I liked it).

Shortly after this square, I reached a park. The gates were padlocked the last time I walked by it, so I was pleased to see that the park was open. In I went.

My first reaction was that there weren't really a lot of people there, given all of the others strolling about on a lazy Sunday afternoon. Then I got a little further, and could see why.

Once upon a time this had been an amusement park. Now it was a Soviet-era junk heap. Many of the rides/stations had been stripped, but a few vestiges remained. A decrepit ferris wheel. Whirly-gig chairs chained together, still hanging from the spinner-thingie at the top. Some rusted-out go-karts, but no track. An old Soviet train car where I think people may actually have been living.

I don't know what was more depressing: the park itself, the people who were picnicing in the park, the men who had stationed themselves at the entrance with this filthy, 20+-year old giant teddy bear who would charge you money to take a photo with said bear, or the fact that the park abruptly ended at the other side by massive piles of dirt dug up by tractors (they're building a road there).

Now, this amusement park cemetary is on the main drag of Dushabe. We're talkin' Michigan Avenue in Chicago, or Independence Ave in DC, or Light Street in downtown Baltimore. Not the sort of thing that brings in tourists, yannow?

Perhaps the government decided to leave the dead park as a metaphor for past Soviet times. There is a statue of Lenin at the entrance, pointing straight ahead (a common pose for his statues--pointing for all to see and follow to a shiny, happy, prosperous Socialist happy ending). I snorted as I imagined Lenin pointing the way out of this place. Flee, ye! Get the hell out while the gettin' is good! Of course, he's wearing his vest and holding his little workman's cap. Power to the people, I'm one of you guys, and all that. Boy were those Soviet propagandists good with their symbolism.

Fortunately, the walk got much better as it progressed. I shall post more another time. Gots to crunch some more numbers....