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!! ;>
Friday, November 30, 2007
Thursday, November 29, 2007
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.
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.
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
*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.
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.
Monday, November 26, 2007
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…
Thursday, November 22, 2007
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.
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.
Friday, November 16, 2007
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...
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...
Thursday, November 8, 2007
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.
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.
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
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?
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?
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
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.
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.
Thursday, November 1, 2007
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.
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.
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.
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