So remember that made-up country that Borat claimed as his country of origin, his motherland, his watan (as we say in Turkmen)? I went there! And it isn’t made up! It is quite real. In fact, it is absolutely enormous. How a country the size of Kazakhstan has simply been overlooked by the educators in the US for so many years, I simply do not know. Actually, I do. Turkmenistan and Kazakhstan are still clumped together with the Balkans as ‘Former Soviet Countries’ or a bit more specifically as ‘Central Asia’ and are referred to as such. The world has not looked close enough nor do the curriculum writers think it of any value to note the differences between these countries.

I must admit that I also was prone to generalizations concerning Central Asian countries. I extrapolated from what I knew of Turkmenistan to make sweeping statements and assumptions about the rest of the countries in the area. I was prone to claim—with all the pretension I now acknowledge in hindsight—that my experience here has helped me understand communism. HA! I now would add lots and lots of modifications like in the education systems and in the mindset of some citizens of post-Soviet Ashgabat, the capital of Turkmenistan.’ Not nearly as impressive but much more accurate.

So. Here are some ways in which Kazakhstan and Turkmenistan are in fact very different despite their geographic proximity.

1. Size. Kazkahstan is to Turkmenistan as the United States is to Rome. So that’s not technically true but I think you get the idea. As a result, K-stan has more people, more industry, more security issues, more Peace Corps volunteers, more money, more Gloria Jean’s coffee, more diverse geography, more grocery stores, and more traffic.

2. Almaty! Almaty, the old capital of K-stan, is unlike any place in Turkmenistan.

3. Plane tickets are much more expensive in K-stan. We flew from the South of the country to the middle of the country for more than I pay in T-stan to fly to London.

4. Everything else is expensive too.

5. Steppe (K-stan) is not desert (T-stan).

6. Exposure to foreigners. Taxi drivers in Turkmenistan are unaccustomed to speaking to foreigns particularly foreigners that they can actually communicate with. In my estimation, this ups their eagerness to engage about 10 bazillion percent.

7. Shopping. I visited a number of shopping centers in K-stan (there is only 1 in T-stan) and one of them had a rollercoaster that snaked from floor to floor. It also had a donut stand. Donuts. Rollercoasters. Sigh.

8. Thickness of walls. The Siberian climate necessitates thick walls in K-stan. Not so in my own living place.

9. National Parks. K-stan has them. I was even able to visit one.

10. Produce. At least in Ashgabat, I am lucky enough to have access to fresh produce year round. In K-stan, this is not the case. Fresh produce trickles off during the winter months (October-Mayish). However, don’t feel too bad for them they do have frozen produce available in the freezer section of most grocery stores.

11. Ice. K-stan has it. Turkmenistan doesn’t.

12. Russian. K-stan has more ethnically Russian people and Russian is spoken more prevalently. Kazahk language is accompanied by Russian on all billboards, all signs, all everything everywhere. Also, Kazahk still uses the Cyrillic (Russian) alphabet although they have added around six letters of their own.

Similarities.

1. Both end in –stan.

2. The weather can only be described as ‘changeable.’ Did we ever use this kindly adjective in the US? I don’t even know anymore . . . Most of the time I was in K-stan it was a delicious 30 degrees C. The locals and Peace Corps volunteers complained about the heat BUT they are all just silly steppe dwellers who know nothing of desert dwelling.

3. Ashgabat and Astana both overwhelm the observer at first glance with the simple fact that they are completely, absolutely planned cities. From those of you living in Houston which doesn’t even really have zoning, you cannot really conceive of this. Consider the cities you built on SimCity and imagine that you had almost unlimited funding, liked fountains, and had an affinity for cinderblocks.

4. Soviet style monuments. Soviet style architecture (big painted concrete boxes with satellite dishes sprouting like mushrooms all over).

5. Tea. Tea with milk. Fried Potatoes. Although black tea was more prevalent.

6. Palow or Palof although Kazakh palow has some unidentifiable spice.

7. Pictures of respective presidents hanging in and on buildings, billboards, etc. I even got to put my hand in a mold of Niazov’s hand.

All in all, I had a wonderful visit. After my visit, I headed directly to close of service conference in a beautiful resort on the Caspian Sea. At this conference, we prepared to leave the country and discussed the difficulties of reverse culture shock. We also played volleyball, swam, socialized, and ate as much melon as we could get our hands on. We did a good job celebrating our last couple of months in the wonderful, perplexing country that is Turkmenistan.

Did you catch that? These are my last months of service here! It hasn’t really sunk in. I’m doing the best I can to keep it from sinking in by keeping my nose to the metaphoric grindstone. School starts tomorrow, new volunteers come (God willing!) October 1st, and I need to wrap up my grant. Work work work! Any of you that now me can translate that as contentment.

Thanks for hanging in there with me so far. Just a little while longer to go!

Cheers!

I’ve been here how long and still I’m adapting. Here’s how:

I’m becoming more and more comfortable with my host family. Why? Because I’m slowly, slowly overriding all those years of US conditioning and beginning to think as a member of a family unit.

Communal living and family-centered culture. These two ideas are not at all difficult to grasp. I could have explained them to you long before leaving the US. I probably would have said something along the lines of: Communal living means sharing work, chores, money, food etc. Family centered living means that your family is the central unit, the central focus of your life.

But living with a host family ‘communally’ within a family-centered culture has shown me just how hard-wired I am against this kind of thing! In fact, it has taken me almost a full two years even to recognize how hard I have been fighting against this kind of lifestyle.

In the US, we are so used to reciprocity and exchange. We are so used to keeping tallies of what someone has done for us and so careful to make sure we do only the same or perhaps a little more in return. If Timmy goes over to Sam’s house, next time Sam will come over to Timmy’s house. If Sarah does all her chores, she will receive her allowance. If you pay for me this time, I will pay for you next time. If you invite me somewhere, next time I will invite you somewhere. If you bring a bottle of wine when you come to my house, I’ll bring you a case of beer next time. For the most part, we are hesitant to loan or borrow money. We are hesitant to ask favors, even small ones. We are, in general, uncomfortable in a place of owing, in a place of deficit to someone else. Similarly, we feel used if we feel we have given too much. This is not so in Turkmenistan.

We are also used to concrete lines of ownership. I bought this cheese and if my roommates use it, I’m gonna be pissed. If the shampoo is in her bathroom tote, than it is off limits. If I loan you this book, you have to return it. This is my room. You have your own room. This is my life; I don’t want your advice! Even if I wrote a book, no one else can use it. If I did my homework and someone else copies it, they have done something wrong because it was my work. We like to have our responsibilities and even our chores divided into mine and yours clearly and without exception. Again, not so in Turkmenistan. I think these lines of ownership help facilitate the system of equal exchange.

My current host family has done what Peace Corps asked of them: they have truly taken me in as a member of the family. What does this mean? This means that I have entered a world free of tallies and of ownership. Whatever discomfort or dissatisfaction I have comes as a result of my inability to change over entirely to this system.

So, in my current life, I do not have assigned chores in this family. I do what needs to be done if I notice it first. I do not have assigned days to cook nor does my host sister. Whoever comes home first cooks. All three of us, my sister, my uncle, and I, do the shopping. There is no method to the shopping madness. My uncle decided he likes Head and Shoulders so we all use the same bottle of shampoo. I sweep the carpets (yes sweep! it works!) when they need to be swept but my host sister seems to have less of a tolerance for dust so she usually sweeps. Dishes are dishes. Everyone does everyone’s dishes. It is not a horrible faux pas to leave a dirty cup in the sink and leave the house. Someone else will wash it. Similarly, if someone leaves their dishes, you do them. Also, I no longer expect thank you for these things although I am still careful to say thank you. These are all merely contributions to the communal good.

Bedroom doors are rarely if ever closed. In fact, bedrooms double as dining rooms, guest rooms, and occasionally exercise rooms. My time belongs to my work or my family. Clothing is shared. Bedding is shared. Meat and produce are shared. Packed lunches are shared. Homework is shared. Ice-cream is shared liberally!

Is this system better? Well, I have gotten over my discomfort enough to recognize the benefits of this system and have concluded as unbiased-ly as possible that it is simply different.

Ok. Enough preaching. Here are updates on my life:

-My brother (real one) graduated from high school!

-One week of school left before the summer.

-I have six months left of my service.

-I found a how to book on “paper engineering” or creating pop ups. Fun!

-I can say with some level of confidence, that I can cook Turkmen food.

-It is getting hotter by the minute.

-I’m attempting to gain admittance to the city’s Olympic-sized pool. It is a process.

-Hilary is coming to visit next week.

-All-volunteer conference brought the entirety of the Peace Corps program to Ashgabat last week for lots of good times and a rockin’ eighties party.

-I’m meeting my family in June in Istanbul.

-I’m pondering how to make the work I’ve done sustainable.

-I’m thinking about future jobs. If anyone has one for me, let me know!

-I’m having a neon pink, patterned, full length, velvet dress made for my counterpart’s wedding.

And that’s about it. I miss you guys.

Tess

I realize that I have been horribly remiss in my blog-writing duties. I have a nice little story to offer as compensation.

It was the last class of the day and my students were tired. We had a month left of school and everyone was waiting for the end. About 20 minutes into the class, I had done pretty well keeping my students attention. I turned my back to write something brief on the board. When I turned back around, the three boys in the class all had their heads on their arms and their arms on the desk. I gave the usual spiel: I know you are tired, I know it is the last class of the day, but stay with me. They lifted their heads. I turned again to write something on the board. When I turned back one of three again had his head on the desk. The other two looked soon to follow.

I decided to finish writing and then deal with the sleepers. When I turned back around to the board, the teacher called to me. “Tess,” she said, “you have some chalk on your skirt.”

I had noticed earlier that some specks of chalk had fallen down the front of my long black skirt. For Turkmen, appearance is everything and appearing tidy is commonly listed as one of the top five characteristics sought after in friends or life-partners. After living here for a year and a half, I had also become hyper sensitive to my appearance. The chalk specks bothered me but I had been unable to do anything about them because both of my hands were also coated in chalk. Oh for dry-erase boards!

“I know,” I replied to my teacher, “but there really isn’t much I can do about it at the moment.” I showed her my hands and prepared to continue class.

My teacher stopped me again. “No, Tess. I don’t think you understand. You have chalk on the other side.”

I looked at my backside and sure enough, my hind-end was covered in a layer of bright white chalk perfectly accentuated by the black of my skirt. Apparently some mischievous or simply thoughtless individual had placed their chalk on the teacher’s chair.

“Oh, that’s different. Perhaps I’ll go to the bathroom. I’ll be back in 5 minutes,” I said and prepared to make my escape. No such luck.

“That's unnecessary," my teacher informed me. "Mahre will help you.” I looked at Mahre, one of my students. She was advancing towards me with wet wipes aka baby wipes. I reached out my hand to accept them but she dodged my extended hand. Instead she began to wipe the chalk off me in front of my class. I didn’t know what to do so I submitted myself to her attention and laughed helplessly. The boys kept their faces turned away as they joined me in my laughter.

Hope you all are doing well! 'Til next time . . .

Adios!

Last week was Noruz. This holiday, as some of you may know, originated in ancient Persia with the Zorastrians or fire worshipers to celebrate the coming of spring. Turkmenistan has embraced this holiday wholeheartedly. As a result, I had two full glorious days off of work. I found myself on a bus to Gokje, a small village outside of Ashgabat where my new extended host family resides.

I arrived in Gokje just in time for a nap. Almost my entire family, Dad, Uncle, Mom, and four sisters were curled up on the carpeted floors comfortably passing the holiday hours. This is my kind of family!! I joined right in.

After our nap, we planted corn! After a long week of projects and planning and preparing and teaching and worrying and thinking it was just what I needed.

The garden area was already divided into 10 by 10 foot sections by low walkways of packed earth. We took on this grid one square at a time. First, Dad broke up the large chunks. Then we sprinkled the loosened earth with corn kernels. We then used spades to turn over the top layer including the tiny yellow kernels. With all the kernels hidden, we then flooded the square with water using an ingenious apparatus constructed from hose, scrap metal, and paint cans. After finishing one square, the girls and I would toss around the frisbee and American football I had brought with me to the village at the request of one of my dress clad sisters while dad tackled the next square.

Notably lacking was the clash that is expected when two very different cultures collide. My sisters and my host mom dressed in floor length, home-made, floral patterned dresses squatted in traditionally Turkmen socks and sandals to turn the earth. Then, without any hesitation or reservations they stood on the packed walkways to throw around a football. They are not at all afraid of me, my culture, my differences, or my football. I wonder if this is because I have learned how to present myself and culture within acceptable limits since coming or if they are truly exceptional. I think probably a lot a bit of both.

As further proof that I have learned to function within acceptable norms, I had an interview of mine printed in the newspaper! One of my colleagues at the institute decided to interview me. This interview was printed in both English and Turkmen. Below I have included the English version for your reading pleasure. Please excuse my overuse of adjectives.

Interview:

Please introduce yourself.

My name is Rebecca Ann Tess Elmore. I am from the United States of America. I graduated from William Marsh Rice University in Houston, Texas with a degree in English Literature and a teaching certificate. My passion in life is teaching. I am currently living and working here at Azady Institute of World Languages. I came with an organization called Peace Corps. Peace Corps currently has 36 English and health teachers working in Turkmenistan.

Did you know anything about Turkmenistan before coming here?

Before I came to Turkmenistan, I knew very little about this wonderful country. I had seen pictures online of beautiful Ashgabat and of traditional Turkmen koineks. I was excited and eager to come learn about an entirely new country in a part of the world I had never visited before.

A few words about your activities at Dovletmamet Azady Turkmen National Institute of World Languages, please.

The part of my service that I value most highly is working with my esteemed colleagues. I really enjoy sharing ideas with them and working to create innovative lessons. I am thankful to them for sharing their knowledge and experience with me. To be honest, they feel like my family. We drink tea together, go to weddings, and celebrate birthdays. They have made me feel so very welcome here.

What do you think of the Turkmen students?

As for the students, they keep my life interesting. They are open and willing to learn. They are eager to speak even though speaking is perhaps the most difficult part of learning English as a foreign language. They always greet me with a warm hello and smile. I enjoy working with them. It is wonderful for me to watch as their knowledge grows.

Any differences between American and Turkmen students?

One of the biggest differences between students here and students in the United States is their dress. Turkmen students always look neat and professional in their uniforms. They look focused and serious. This uniform is very good practice for the working world where young graduates will be expected to look competent and capable. Students in the United States could use such practice!

Please, your wishes to your colleagues and students here.

To all my fellow teachers, thank you so very much for sharing your institute with me, for letting me teach alongside you and learn with you. In the following ten months, I hope we will continue to get to know one another and to work successfully together. Remember that teaching requires constant learning. This is perhaps the best part of our job!

To all my students, I both hope and expect that you will work had and do your best for the remainder of your studies while I am here and when I am gone. It has been and will continue to be a joy to be your teacher. Be brave in your language learning. Don’t be afraid to make mistakes because mistakes are merely opportunities to learn.

Thanks!

I just spent a glorious week in the magnificent city of Istanbul, Turkey.

Istanbul, for me, was strangely familiar. On one hand, the culture, religion, and language are all reminiscent of Turkmenistan. On the other hand, Istanbul was a refreshing reminder of the existence of all the modern conveniences and excesses of what I associate with the “Western World:” consumerism to the max, navigable and various forms of public transportation (here I exclude Houston from the “Western World”), restaurants galore, toilets that can handle toilet paper, movie theaters, etc. Istanbul is truly a mix of East and West and rightly deserves its name, “A Country on Two Continents.”

Enough chattering and philosophizing. Hehehe. Here are some hard facts about my vacation.

Forms of Public Transportation used:

1. Turkmen Airlines. Cheap and safe! Extensive meal provided.

2. Tram. Light-rail style.

3. Funicular. Underground subway/elevator that takes up you a steep hill. 3 min ride max.

4. Trolley. Running to catch and jumping on are absolutely acceptable even in heels and skirts.

5. Train. A tad bit sketchy after dark but absolutely functional. Runs along old city walls.

6. Bus. Route takes the place of a carpool lane with multiple stops, interesting.

7. Ferry. Scenic, relaxing, concessions provided but not included. An hour ride for about a dollar.

The theory behind mass transit seems to be: try everything possible to get our 15 million people where they need to go. Miraculously, this hodgepodge, no, extensive network of transportation was wonderfully easy to navigate. Istanbul-ites may complain about the traffic but why drive??

Foods eaten:

1. Backlava . I tasted everything at least once. Trust me, hazelnut is the best.

2. Street corn. Savory and delicious and salty!

3. Dried Fruits. Particularly what I think was a persimmon or date? Don’t know. Ate it anyway.

4. Fish. Wonderful delicious. Enough said.

5. Doner Kebab. Fast, cheap, delicious. Kinda small though . . .

6. Juice. Fruit juice is all the rage with juice shops, called vitamin bufes, elbow to elbow.

7. Iskender Kebab. Delicious, slides right down, order twice as many orders as you think you want.

8. Unknown white steamy drink sold at night out of what look like samovars. Sprinkeled with cinnamon. Expensive (2 lyra) but worth it.

9. Turkish delight. Why are Americans generally uncreative with their candies? Fabulous. Like gummy candies for grown-ups.

10. Pite. Turkish pizza.

11. Cheese and olives and lots of them. Breakfast, lunch, or dinner.

12. Nutella. Seems to have spread world wide. Apparently originated in France??

Turkish words learned (spelled phonetically):

1. Kach-How much?

2. Merhaba-Hello

3. Tamam-Ok

4. Afadarsingiz-Excuse Me

5. –yorium-Ending of first person present continuous verbs, can be stuck to Turkmen verb stems for mediocre communication

6. Past tense, numbers same as Turkmen, vocabulary such as ‘pillow’ all same as Turkmen

7. Charlashmak (Turkish-to work, Turkmen-to exchange or bribe)

Famous Places visited:

1. Blue Mosque

2. Topkapy Palace

3. Princes Islands

4. Istanbul Modern. Wonderful art museum. I recommend it!

5. Spice Bazaar.

6. Grand Bazaar.

7. Starbucks. Hehehheeheh. Twice. Do I feel guilty? Only a little tiny bit.

8. Taksim square.

Not famous places visited:

1. Tea Garden- The tea keeps a’coming and the Nargile (Hookah) keeps a’burning.

2. Movie Theater

3. Ariel’s Apartment. Thanks for your hospitality!

4. Bar with live band playing “Turkish Fusion” which is, for the record, much more difficult to dance to than techno. Did that stop me, you ask? Not at all!

5. Multiple Park benches usually accompanied by one or more cats.

Favorite activities in no particular order.

1. Eating food and people watching on a park bench.

2. Sitting and drinking upwards of four to five vases of tea consecutively. Yes, vases. Then finding the closest bathroom. Flushing the toilet paper. HA!

3. Walking with arms linked. This is ok for any mix of genders or ages.

4. Scrabble after breakfast on terrace overlooking the sea.

5. Riding the ferry with feet propped on railing. Listening to country. Yes, I know. Don’t judge.

6. Biking lost around an Island. How lost can you really get on an island? You would be surprised.

7. Eating Magnum ice-cream while sitting on a wall, particularly caramel flavor. Try that for intense chocolaty taste sensation.

8. Buying street food.

And that about sums it up. If you can’t tell, my trip consisted mainly of eating, travelling via transit to a different area, and eating again. Oh, with the occasional, often accidental, seeing of a historical sight. It was heavenly.

Turkey is a must for all travelers.

Miss you all. E-mail me whenever!

Me

To my loyal blog readers, I apologize for the belatedness of this post. It will probably happen again. Hang in there with me!

I had amazing classes yesterday. Lately, my life has been awash with the kind of cultural exchange to which Peace Corps aspires. These classes epitomize these experiences.

My first class was studying education, specifically the education system in Great Britain. This isn’t particularly applicable to them for a number of reasons. First, if these students were to leave the institute for a year abroad, they would not be allowed to continue their studies here. Second, the Britain only provides a couple of scholarships to Turkmen, and even these target those seeking graduate degrees. Enough background.

After tossing a ball around to review the basic tenses and playing hangman to review vocabulary, I decided to have them present on education in Turkmenistan. I modeled the presentation with a short presentation of my own on education in the US.

My students were astounded by the following: my university was small with only 3,000 odd students. UT, with over 50,000 students, was beyond their comprehension as was the fact that the US has over 2,000 colleges and universities. The cost of college, of course, was unreal to them. Me too, I said!

I, in turn, was surprised by the following information: when my students were at school, there was no physical education. Now, students in schools and universities have PE once a week. I also learned that there are specialized public schools: economics and management, languages, math, science, etc. Finally, to enter the institute to study English, three exams are required: English, Turkmen, and Holy Ruhnama.

In my second class, we discussed a text entitled “A Friend in Need.” After debating the relative worth of happy vs. unhappy endings and good vs. bad characters, I asked them to produce a list of five qualities that they seek in friends. “Tidy” and “polite” cropped up among the expected answers of honesty, kindness, and intelligence. I doubted both as a mis-translation but was convinced by follow up that these two words were exactly what my students meant.

We went on to discuss the following situations: If your friend needed money, would you give it? If your friend needed a place to stay, would you let them live with you? If your friend stole something, would you tell? If your friend asked you to write an essay for them, would you?

My students said that they would absolutely give their friends money, would absolutely let their friends live with them indefinitely, wouldn’t tell unless the crime negatively impacted another friend or family member, and would absolutely (with one exception who had studied at an American HS for a year) write the essay for them. They did not consider this cheating.

At this point, I am bursting to share with them the differences between their answers and those I would expect from American students. Emphasizing that identifying differences is different from passing judgment.

In other news, I have changed families yet again. One thing you must learn about living in a foreign country, any foreign country, and perhaps particularly in Turkmenistan is that things change suddenly, without warning. Perhaps this is because I am not savvy enough or experienced enough with Turkmen culture to pick up the signs or perhaps this is simply a fact of life in for millions of people. Perhaps as Americans, we take the relative stability of our lives for granted. Then again, perhaps I was merely protected from the winds of fate and fortune J by my wonderful parental unit.

Enough of rambling. My new family is wonderful. I live with two sisters, 19 and 23, and their uncle who is 70. The girls family, parents and three other sisters, visit often from a suburb of Ashgabat where they live. The girls are about as different as can be. The younger one is bubbly and open-hearted. Her English is good and she talks with me every chance she gets. The older one is quieter and motherly. However, she has a strong sarcastic streak that has made us fast friends. They both work.

The uncle is fabulous. At 70, he runs regularly and eats two walnuts before breakfast and after dinner everyday. He also drinks a concoction of vinegar, vodka, and walnut extract everyday. He remembers some English words from his 1 year of English class during 7th grade. Now, he is eager to learn more. I eat oatmeal every morning for breakfast and he has dubbed this “Gerculees” (Hercules). He plans to join me in my morning consumption of Gerculees.

From my new family, I have learned:

· lots of Turkmen vocabulary such as blessing, tradition, unfortunately, to augment etc.

· that if my palms itch, money is coming my way

· never to flick water from my hands after washing

· how to make borsch

· how to crack seeds open with my teeth and extract the meat with my tongue

That’s all for now. If you’ve made it this for, congrats. You are a super-committed blog reader. Thank you.

I’m off to Istanbul, Turkey for a week of vacation! I’ll tell you all about that soon!

Me

I have learned a couple of things about celebrating Christian/American holidays in Muslim/foreign countries.

First and foremost, the best part is you still get a full set of holidays on top of the Christian/American ones! All kids know that this means double the excitement, double the presents, double the excitement, and double the food.

I have also learned that every English teacher is fully expected to not only know and be able to sing Jingle Bells well, but also to produce the soundtrack. After a number of requests from my teachers, I put out feelers. I asked my site mate who produced a number of Christmas favorites including Rudolph. I also asked other volunteers in the area who also handed over their bounty of Christmas music. To my surprise and disappointment, Jingle Bells was absent from the whole lot. It wasn’t until I confided my embarrassing dilemma to a host country national friend that I finally got my hands on the music. HA! Goodness. Only then did I notice that a number of the other teachers had downloaded Jingle Bells for their latest ring tone. Oh, technology! Ha!

Finally, I have learned that there are a number of theories and practices behind gift giving. In the US, we do our best to buy what we think the other person needs or wants. Despite our best efforts, we often fail in our gift buying endeavors hence the existence of gift receipts and gift cards. In Turkmenistan, there are varying levels of gift givers. Most volunteers are mere amateurs. We pick up chocolates or cookies to take with us when we go guesting and maybe, just maybe try to acquire flowers for Women’s Day. We are last minute, low cost, low effort gifters. Shame on us! Then there are level two gift givers. My host mother is a level two. She has a perpetual stock of chocolates. Her chocolates range in quality and price. She is prepared for surprise guesting or surprise holidays. Also in this middle category is the single gift giver. This person has had success in the past with a certain gift, say a ceramic statue of two kids holding hands. This person will then give this gift for any and every occasion with no fear of repeat gifting. After all, one is better than two. Finally, there is the extreme gifter. This person has a wardrobe set aside entirely for gifts. These gifts include chocolates, cookies, lotions, ceramic statues, underwear, towels of all shapes, colors, and sizes, material for dresses, underwear, and stuffed animals. This person is ready for anything: for guests who bring gifts and must be given gifts in return, for hodyaloy (giving thanks to God by giving things to other people), birthdays, holidays, and every other gift-giving situation imaginable.

I also learned some important difference between the way we celebrate Christmas and the way Turkmen celebrate New Years.

1) In T-stan, Santa does not have a wife. He has a very young, very attractive granddaughter. My students were astounded when I told them that Santa had a wife and even more astounded when I told them that she is old.

2) Santa’s suit does not necessarily have to be red. Often his suite is blue. This is strange to me.

3) Children do not rush of to bed on New Year’s Eve. Quite the contrary. They stay up as late as possible. For this reason, there is not designated time for Santa’s arrival. The presents simply materialize. As a result, most children never actually believed in Santa.

4) All salads have either mayonnaise or oil. But this holds true of all salads everywhere on Christmas, New Years, or any other day of the year. Noteably lacking from these salads is lettuce.

5) Turkmen children are fundamentally different from American children. My host sister turned down pumpkin pie in favor of a second huge chunk of duck meat which she ate happily with her fingers, the grease all over her face and hands.

All in all, I had a fabulous Christmas and New Years. For Christmas I wrapped presents with my host mom for my host sisters. Then enjoyed the surprise of Christmas morning. I made stockings out of an old dress and an old scarf and gave one to my host mom filled with goodies. She gave me a nice brocade jewelry box. I wore read stockings and a red sweater to the institute and pranced around with garland around my neck singing Rudolph with my students. My teachers bought me a large plush pink bathrobe for Christmas and gifted it to me at the end of the day. My sitemate and I made chicken cachitore, salad, and cake for my host family.

New Years was a bit more low key. I helped my host mom cook a bit, we all dressed up in our holiday finest, and then we sat down for a feast. A little later, I took a walk with my host sister. Then I fell asleep a little bit before 12. It was wonderful. I’m kind of a grandma.

That’s all for now! Happy New Year to everyone! I wish you all the best in the New Year!

Howdy folks-

I'm back in Abot, and I've picked up directly where I had left off. I'm busy teaching and teaching and commuting and scheming new things to teach.

Lucky for me, I made it back in town for Christmas. Although here, the big day is New Year's. For this reason, the Russian/Turkmen version of Santa Claus is circling the third floor of the Turkish superstore where I happen to be using high speed internet. He is escorted by his beautiful young grandaughter. When I tell people that Santa Claus has a wife, they usually ask, "But she is young right?" Hahahahah! No, I reply, she is not.

I don't feel like reiterating last year's New Year's post. Instead, I have decided to include a welcome letter that I was asked to write by staff for the new volunteers. Yes, there should be new volunteers coming in February or March!! Only health volunteers are coming but regardless, I'm excited to meet everyone!

Ok, here it is:

Welcome to Trainees!

We are so glad to have you! You have embarked upon a journey of epic proportions in a country of epic contrasts. But you know that already. Everyone has told you some variant of the above, I’m sure. Most people have no idea, though, what the specifics will be. To be honest, neither do I. I know that my experience is uniquely mine and your experience here will also be uniquely yours. Own it! You get to be in Turkmenistan today.

So about what I do know. I teach English at a language institute in T-stan’s beautiful, if somewhat surreal, capital city. In other words, I teach approximately 120 students a week ranging in age from 16 to 25. Not only do they span the spectrum in maturity, they also span the spectrum in language ability. A year into my service, my job still demands constant flexibility, creativity, and more than anything, optimism. I have learned to fail gracefully and start building again not only at the institute, but also in my daily interactions with my host family and even with the strangers on the bus. I have eaten bone-marrow jello, taught a class of 30 students with 0 preparation, welcomed Santa on New Year’s, discussed the difference between nationality and ethnicity, worn skirts, survived the buses during rush hour, and found peanut butter at a bazaar. All this adds up to some of the highest highs and some of the lowest lows of my life. I don’t regret it for a second.

I hope I haven’t solidified any expectations that you are carrying around because that is probably the worst thing I could possibly do. Do not go into your service with expectations. Easier said than done, I know. Open minded, yes. Expectations, no. Expectations tend to lead to let downs or worse, self-fulfilling low standards. A lack of expectations allows for room to observe, listen, induce (not deduce!), and build up from what you find.

I hope that your experience will not be easy. I hope that you will face challenges, make mistakes, and feel lonely. Why? Well, I have found that it is from these low places that I learn the most. I’m a teacher after all!

That's all for now guys. Have a very Merry Christmas and a wonderful New Year!

As some of you may have heard, I have messed up my knee again. About a month ago, I convinced Gary, my sitemate, to go with me to the health walk. The health walk is a paved path through the mountains outside of the city. One of the other volunteers once attempted to count the stairs on the health walk but stopped after 3000. Needless to say, you go up stairs and then you come down stairs. Poor Gary. I convinced him to go up a full 5 kilometers before turning around. With 3 kilometers left to go on our decent, I hurt my knee jumping from a height of about 1.5 ft. I was unable to walk.

For the remaining 3 kilometers, I hopped up the up parts, slid down the railing on the down parts, and Gary carried me (imagine any Vietnam war movie you have seen where one loyal soldier carries his wounded companion to safety-minus the mud, Vietnam, the war, and any sort of enemy) on the flat parts. It took two hours to get to the bottom.

Side note: That morning I had promised my host family a Mexican burrito night. Upon my return home, I was distracted by the awesomeness of flavored ground beef and CHEESE! It was fabulous.

The next morning, I reported my injury to Peace Corps. After an x-ray and a CAT scan, the doctors concluded that I had managed to jolt one of the screws in my knee (put there during ACL surgery two years ago) out of the bone.

After two weeks of bed rest—which if you know me at all, drove me crazier than I already am J--I returned to the institute. Despite all the mental pressure I put on it, my knee refused to improve.

As a result, Peace Corps is sending me to Washington DC for medical treatment. It is so strange for me to be leaving! It is so strange to be headed back to the US! In my preparations, I have done a lot of reflecting. This is what I reflected J:

I would like to thank you very much for supporting me in my first year of Peace Corps service. As I have cleaned out my room in preparation for my medical evacuation, I have come across a lot of wonderful memories. I feel, more than ever, that my past year has been a full one, full of challenges, successes, mistakes, failures, personal growth, and change all around. Although I don’t have the hindsight to fully grasp how significant this year has been, I can already tell you that it has been the most formative year of my life.

This reflection has also convinced me, beyond a doubt that this is not goodbye. I do not wish to take this opportunity to bow out gracefully. To put it simply, I am not finished here. Not only have I made a two year commitment that I wish to fulfill, I have too many loose ends.

· First, I have begun a TOEFL prep club with four eager women who are committed for the next year.

· I also began a new club at the institute recently with my best students from last year. They want to put together a teacher resource book for students to use during their year of practicum or required teaching in the public schools.

· I prepared for but was unable to give a training session on the use of the new audio equipment at the institute.

· My host sister from training is pregnant, and I want to see her holding her child.

· I dedicated myself to a full year of teaching 110 second year students who expect to see my smiling face at least once a week.

· I have not been able to visit either Lebop or Dashoguez.

· I began a club not for the best students, but for the worst students in an effort to give them a second chance to catch up.

· I designed 12 training sessions for PST that I was unable to put into use. I want the chance to do that next year.

· I have become part of a support network of volunteers. It may be cliché, but we feel like family. I can’t imagine leaving them now.

· I am excited to meet with five or six of my most excited teachers who recently began to ask me for various communicative games to set them up for each week’s lessons, games that they play in class.

· I want to improve both my Russian and my Turkmen.

· I would like a chance to redo the ECA that I helped with last year. I learned so much and want to put what I learned to use.

· Last week I discussed the difference between ethnicity, nationality, and culture with one of my classes. I want to continue that discussion.

· I have not been able to go on a walk with one of my teachers who lives very near to me. I promised her I would.

· Finally, I have not properly told anyone goodbye.

I do not wish to parade my list of accomplishments. I merely wish to assert the importance of this past year and my desire to return to a place that I now call home.

Thanks again for your support!

Tess Elmore

I was recently asked if I have adapted entirely to the culture. My answer was an absolute no. I don’t think that is entirely possible. After all, I started 23 years behind everyone else! Then on second thought, I considered how comfortable I am navigating through my daily life, through the chance meetings, and insignificant exchanges. I considered how I am now comfortable in my own clothing and own skin, even confident! I considered how often I am mistaken for a native specifically, of Russian origin (until I open my mouth and Turkmen inevitably comes out!). I think perhaps I’m doing pretty well in the whole cultural adaptation arena. However, there are still moments when I do a mental jaw drop at just how different life is here. Here are some recent jaw drops:

Cultural Moments

1. First, it is very common to wish people ‘bon appetite’ when they are eating. Especially if they are eating and you are not. Usually this doesn’t happen at organized meals. My teachers have translated this to ‘good appetite.’ So, during my breaks when I eat lunch I am constantly encouraged to be hungry! Ha!

Anyway, I occasionally stop by the bazaar on the way to or from work. Usually, I will purchase a kilo of apples, a couple bananas, or maybe a sweet roll. I then cart my haul to my next destination before partaking of the bounty. However, one day I was particularly hungry and pulled out my sweet roll to much on while still walking to work. As I was putting the roll to my mouth, I was greeted with a loud ‘Bon Appetite!’ from the stranger walking past me on the street. I was shocked. Stopped walking. And looked at him. He didn’t even turn around. I continued down the street and within 20 seconds received another one! I couldn’t help laughing! Two complete strangers had just politely applauded, even spurred on my street side roll ingestion.

2. I gave my students pictures of famous people to practice describing appearance. I did my best to stick to people they would know. These people included: Shakira, Obama, Enrique Iglesias, Tess (Me!), Putin, and Julia Roberts among others. They doubly surprised because first, they did not recognize Akon because they did not expect him to be black and second, they had no idea who Albert Einstein is. They did appreciate the fact that most people have long hair but that he had tall hair. J

3. Again on the subject of appearances, I was not at all surprised when my female students admitted to having short red hair despite the fact that they all have long black braids reaching down to their waist from underneath the ornately embroidered skull cap. Both the skull cap and braids are characteristic of all school and university uniforms. Fake hair may be purchased at a number of Bazars in Ashgabat. I have resisted the seductive call of the fake hair thus far but I’ll keep you updated. I was surprised, however, that my hair was described as both short (it now stretches at least half way down my back) and red (it is inarguably brown). I was reminded, once again, that EVERYTHING, even color, is relative.

5. In a class of advanced students, we were debating what makes a good and what makes a bad teacher. In one activity, they were describing a teacher on her first day of teaching. Their description of an absolutely horrible teacher was by and large a physical description. This poor teacher had a hole in her shoe and sticks in her hair. Ha! I was reminded once again how serious appearance is here. I made sure to iron my blouse twice the next morning. In 115 degree heat, women will close windows to avoid messing up their hair! That’s commitment.

6. So I have this problem with white-washed walls. It is the same problem I have with chalk. It is the same problem I had with mud when I was 5 (read: when I was in a country that had mud). I always get it all over me. But not to worry! The teachers and even students have me covered. They are constantly brushing off my back, my shoulders, and my sleeves. I’m no longer embarrassed about it. It is kinda of a joke for our department. However, it reached a new low last week after I brushed the back of my right shoulder against the wall in the English department office. Both of the young male teachers in our department did simultaneously came to my rescue. HA! Can you imagine? I had two men falling over me to brush a white-wash spot off my shoulder.

7. Last week, I had a cold and as a result, I lost my voice. All day everyday, I had people expressing their condolences for my voice. After initial concern, a twinkle would light up their eyes and a hint of accusation would creep into their voice. “Did you eat ice-cream or drink cold water??” I was posed this question at least 15 times a day. I abstained from those tempting 15 cent ice-creams just so I could assure them that, no, the ice-cream was not at fault. After two days of this, my patience was a tad bit stretched. This is what an ice-creamless life does to me. I walked into the Peace Corps guard shack excepting, for some unknown reason, understanding. Perhaps they would encourage me to visit the medical staff, acquire medication of some sort, or perhaps rest. I was relieved when the initial concern did not digress to accusation. I couldn’t help laughing (soundlessly) when the concern gave way to a conspiratory wink and a “it was the cold beer huh?”

8. Ok. This one is a bit embarrassing and I can’t believe I’m gonna put it on the world wide web but here goes. So my supervisor is approximately four feet tall. I am not four feet tall. I am a solid 5.7. I had just helped her use the computer to find and print some document or another. She was standing in front of me to thank me for my help when this huge smile lit up her face. You are a good Muslim! She said in perfect English. I was really confused. She laughed and reached up to pat me on the shoulder. “You have something that all good Muslims have,” she said. “A chin hair!”

Chin hair and all, I’m heading into my second year of service. I’m still working on the cultural adaptation, but I’m thoroughly enjoying myself in the process.

I miss you all.

Tess

After 16 days filled with Thailand, I have returned to Turkmenistan relaxed, well-rested, and 10 pounds heavier. I think it may be impossible to share my entire experience with you. Everything was exquisitely new and exciting and beautiful and delicious. My brain did its very best soak it all up. It, my brain that is, did a pretty good job too. As a result, I have so many images and memories and tastes associated with my trip that I can’t possibly share them all! I shall have to pick and choose and that just seems insufficient. Whine, whine. I know. Suck it up and tell us something, you say. Ok, here goes.

After landing in Bangkok and meeting up with Hilary, my fabulous travelling companion J, we explored the city. Bangkok is huge city of concrete overpasses, neon signs, and traffic. People come and go to work dressed neatly and fashionably. High-heels are the norm for women.You may get horribly ripped off by a Taxi driver but the stranger who goes out of her way to call your hostel for directions more than makes up for it.

Entertainment and shopping are both very serious endeavors. The white tiled shopping centers were overwhelming and overpriced but the 6th floor movie theater was fabulous. My first big-screen movie since Peace Corps was, of course, Harry Potter. For some cheaper shopping, a wide variety of street vendors line the streets, spilling out from the market areas. Behind this first file of commercialism, Thai massage parlors, Silk vendors 7 11s and restaurants repeat up and down the streets. I’m not complaining; I literally ate my way around Bangkok. I particularly enjoyed the Pad Thai, the coconut curries, and the watermelon smoothies.

The public transportation system includes a ferry, a subway, and a sky-train (a raised light-rail system). All of which are easy to navigate for two reasons: first, everything is written in English and Thai and second, everyone speaks English.

Monks, in varying shades of orange, dot the city like moving traffic cones concentrating around the hundreds of sparkling gold and red temples. Not only did we make the obligatory visit to the Royal Palace and surrounding temples, we ascended a particularly fun one entitled ‘The Golden Mount.’ My favorite place, though, was much more humble and unassuming. My first day in Bangkok as I circled our hostel, I found a medium sized park right smack in the middle of the city. The park was luxuriantly green. People dotted the banks of the pond, stretched out on woven mats. I couldn’t help returning to this park for my last day in Bangkok out of some desire for closure.

After a couple days in Bangkok, we headed north to Sukhothai, one of the really old cities from the time when Thailand was Siam. I think it dates back to the 13th and 14th centuries. Here we rented bicycles and biked for a good four hours around this ancient city of red, eroded brick and smooth grey Buddha statues. It was amazingly beautiful. I can’t describe it. See for yourself!

Then we headed south to one of Thailand’s famous beaches, Ko Samui. After a 9 hour bus ride, a 2 hour ferry ride, and a 45 minute van ride, we arrived at our hostel. For the next four days we lived in a lush green paradise of palm trees and jungle rising out of post-card perfect white sand and blue water. We roused ourselves from the lethargy of hot sun and beautiful beach only once for a touristy day trip of intense exercise. We were taken on a tourist boat to some of the smaller islands where we kayaked, hiked, and swam. It was hard to go back to Bangkok after paradise.

Back in Bangkok for the last couple of days, we did another day trip to the famous floating market. Although admittedly touristy and overpriced, the floating market was fascinating. We bought a variety of strange fruits and sat to watch the long thin paddle boats of merchandise and tourists pass by.

Too soon it was over. I was back in Turkmenistan, speaking Turkmen, sweating on the public buses, and meeting acquaintances in the streets. Back to the familiar. And I realized the difference between visiting another country, and ‘the Peace Corps experience.’ While you are visiting a country, while you are seeing the sights, while you are a full-blown tourist, you have choices. So many choices. There is an entire industry designed to provide you, the traveler, with a plethora of choices.

Do I eat at McDonald’s, Mr. Bun, the clean-looking Thai restaurant on the corner, the sushi place, the street vendor’s booth, the Mexican restaurant, the Chinese restaurant, the crepe stand (say yes to the crepe stand!!!), the Pizza Hut, or the bar? Do I take a Taxi, a bus, the sky-train, a Tuk-Tuk (motorcycle-cart creation), a bicycle, the ferry, or do I book everything with a tourist agency and let them decide? Do I want to spend money on floral print beach dresses, hand-woven hemp dragons, colorful carved candles, Thai silks, hot sauce, unknown fruits, knock-off purses, or movie tickets? I think you get the idea. Choices.

In this daunting world of choices, you construct a mini-world that you are comfortable in. For example, today we tried the crepe stand for the first time. It was delicious. Success! So we were brave and tried some green and red, unidentifiable, tentacled fruits. Some were good, some not so good. Unfortunately, we were ripped off by the vendor. Disgruntled and a tad bit discouraged, next we choose to retreat into a movie theater or to our hotel room where we can disengage entirely from the country we are visiting and recharge our batteries.

In Peace Corps, our choices are far more limited. We live in places bereft of tourism and in places were normal average people simply don’t have choices. We do our best to live like the normal average people. Money, of course, opens up your choices a bit, but not as much as you might think. Furthermore, PCVs aren’t exactly rolling in the dough. Nor can we disengage from our environment. Ok, that’s not exactly correct. We can disengage. And we do. We hole up in our rooms and watch movies or gather in groups to have a beer. This is necessary for our mental sanity. But, it is our job to remain engaged with our environment: to talk to the old women on the bus, to answer the Taxi driver’s hundreds of questions about Obama, the America, or our marital status, to eat meals with our meals with our host families, to accept the endless wedding invitations from our students, our neighbors, our co-workers, and to reach out to our students day after day in the classroom. And doing these things, remaining engaged, is what truly gives us satisfaction, a sense of accomplishment. However, these things are exhausting.

Perhaps I am way off. Perhaps after 10 months of living in Turkmenistan (yes, it has been 10 months!), I merely don’t see the choices anymore. And for the record, I am not saying traveling is better or worse than may daily life. I’m simply trying to make a distinction, significant or not, I don’t know. Suffice it to say, Thailand was a mix of wonderfully new and wonderfully comfortable things. I feel rested and glad to be back. Bring on the bus women!

On Friday I returned from a 10 day summer camp extravaganza in the wonderful sea-side town of Turkmenbasy. To give you a sneak-preview of my experience, I did the following during my time there:

Caught a craw-dad with someone else’s shoe.

Celebrated the Fourth of July with delicious veggie burgers and homemade French fries.

Saved an old man’s flotation device from drifting off into the horizon. Mad lifeguard skills!

Slept on the front porch of my friend’s house to take advantage of the sea breeze (ie I looked like a hobo)

Took 1.5 real showers in ten days.

Took a really incredibly slow train overnight there and back during which I answered approximately 3.5 million questions put to me by inquisitive Turkmen.

Learned to cook eggplant.

Made awesome looking crowns (for camper of the day) out of trash.

Danced the cupid shuffle. Repeatedly.

Invented a sport: Bottle Hockey.

Paid only 3000 old manat (20 cents) per Taxi. So cheap!

Walked and walked and walked on the beach.

Swam with snakes.

Had an extravagant sea-weed war.

Ok. Perhaps that list was not a good idea. I feel like I’ve told you the punch line before the joke! Anyway, those were the highlights. Now, let me follow up by saying that Turkmenbashy is a whole different world from Ashgabat. The sea-blown neutral tones of Turkmenbasy were a welcome change from the busy streets and white buildings of Ashgabat. T-bashy fills in three little niches in the hills that line the banks of the Caspian Sea. To get from niche to niche, you flag a taxi and pray as your taxi (inevitably a old, white Lada) attempts to hall you up and over the lip of each niche. Travelling tip: Lean forward. Then, your taxi driver kills the ignition to cost down the other side. Travelling tip 2: Lean backward.

The town is sprawling. Although there are a number of high occupancy apartment complexes, there are many single family houses that climb up the sides of the low mountains. Malory, the volunteer who invited me to teach in Tbasy, lives up toward the top of one of these hills. It is quite picturesque. And yes, I will try to post pictures soon!

As I said, I rode a a very, very slow overnight train to get to Tbashy. I doubt very seriously that the train ever hit 40 miles per hour for the entire 14 hour trip. I was told later that it must go slow or the sand from the Garagum desert that blows on the tracks will derail the train. I was also told that the train is obligated to stop for anyone anywhere in the desert. I don’t know if this one is true but this would account for the innumerable inexplicable stops along the way.

Finally, I arrived and was met at the train station by the smiling faces of Malory and Chase. Megan, the fourth volunteer working this camp, was waiting for us when we arrived at Malory’s house.

Camp began on Monday June 29th and went through July 8th. We soon settled into a routine. I was the first to wake up each morning. My first duty was fetching water from the outside faucet in a metal bucket. J Despite its location, Tbashy has limited clean water and we had to ration while we were there. Hence the 1.5 showers. With water from this bucket, I cooked up either oatmeal or rice pudding and stirred up some Nescafe.

The others trickled into the kitchen and we groggily did last minute planning. We walked down the hill to catch a Taxi from the main street to the language center where Malory works. Around 9, our forty campers, ages 9-14 began to trickle in. Day 1, we divided them up into four teams and they competed throughout the week in an English World Cup. The teams included the US, England, Canada, and Ireland because collectively we knew how to draw these flags from memory. Each volunteer generally worked with one team at a time and the teams rotated. Chase and Megan did activities at the pool and Malory and I stayed at the center.

At the center, we kicked of the day by announcing camper of the day and playing some game we dredged up from our collective childhoods. These included but were not limited to: Mother May I, Charades, and Red Light, Green Light. Then we split the kids by team. Over the 10 days, I taught Yoga, played kickball, did all sorts of relay races, helped organize a paper quilt project, played Bingo, created and held a scavenger hunt, and lost my voice completely.

Ah! And the sport I invented! In T-stan, as in many other countries, drinks such as fanta, coke, sprite, and fizzy lemonade are purchased in one liter plastic bottles. Malory, like many good Turkmen, saved her bottles for buying milk and yogurt. Towards the end of the week, our bouncy ball had deflated and we pondered worriedly what sorts of sports were possible that we hadn’t previously played. And it struck me, bottles + deflated ball = bottle hockey! With the older kids, it was a definite success. Kids, feel free to try this one at home. J

So to sum it up, all of you who have been waiting for the typical Peace Corps experience, there it was.

Now I’m back in Ashgabat. I am spent this past weekend helping my host mom can everything from tomato sauce to cherry liquor, going to a magnificent wedding were again I was required to give a toast, hanging out with my friend Annie who is in town from Lebop (region in T-stan), and looking forward to Thailand!

Yes, that’s right. I’m going to Thailand next weekend. Thailand!

Till next time, I miss you guys and stay cool (literally and figuratively)!

Yesterday I saw the most amazing thing. First, I’ll set the scene. I now live in a Soviet style apartment complex. Read: big, square, and concrete with brightly decorated clothing lines extending from all floors in all directions. I live on the first floor of this building. The first floor has a number of perks. Most importantly, we have a deck. If any one is interested in exporting some cracker-barrel rocking chairs, please let me know. We also have a small yard. Here my two host sisters spend the evening hours concocting delicious meals of mud and grass. The gate to this yard is one in a long line of green gates belonging to other first floor apartment dwellers.

Outside of this line of green metal, gobs of neighborhood kids play endless games of soccer in the street. Inevitably the boys play and the girls watch. At best, the girls are assigned to the unsavory role of goalkeeper (never goalie because goalie=naked in Russian!). The sidelines are delineated by the older boys who sit in their pristine Ladas or Toyotas, with the windows down, blasting Russian rap. Leaving my house feels at times like running the gauntlet. So yesterday, I emerged from my green gate as usual into a game of soccer. My presence, however, went unnoticed for perhaps the first time. In the middle of the field a woman towered over the kids. She, like nearly all Russian and Turkmen women in Ashgabat, was perfectly done up. Her tunic style blouse was powerfully striped with red, yellow, and blue and belted in the middle. Underneath black tights hugged her skinny legs. Her blond hair was pulled back and the gold molding of her sunglasses flashed in the sun. Her heels lifted her a full five inches off the ground. This 40 year old woman hung for a second over the soccer ball and then streaked forward. Her shot was strong and true. GOAL!!! Watch out USA! When Turkmenistan does eventually put together a women’s soccer team, they will be a powerhouse. Years of wearing high heels does wonders for your leg muscles.

So, I apologize for the belatedness of this post. Perhaps because I feel pretty assimilated, my life generally seems less noteworthy than before. Not in the negative sense but rather in the sense that I have settled into daily and weekly routines. So here is a quick update on the big events in my life during the last couple of months.

I have begun to do Yoga. Yup, that’s right. I never did it in the US but now I go twice a week to Yoga class in Turkmenistan. One of the wives of the Peace Corps staff holds free Yoga class in the office every Tuesday and Thursday. I was convinced to go and now am hooked. It is so freakin’ relaxing! For any of you out there who need some stress relief or who have been pondering how to fill your summer months, I really do recommend it.

Two weeks until finals. I’m excited because I need a mental rest but a tad disappointed because I feel like I was just beginning to really bond with the students in some of my classes and now they will move on to become third year students. As I teach only second year classes, I won’t see them as often after the summer holidays. My hopes rest on the fact that they will come back to attend my after-school clubs. During finals I hope to daily or maybe tri-weekly computer trainings for my teachers.

I moved! In case you didn’t catch that from my first little anecdote, I have changed my domicile. I now live with a single mom (her husband lives in the US) and two girls, Mahre and Nabot, ages 6 and 10. This new place is more spacious and much closer to my work. I also have much more freedom to cook for myself. Most importantly, I now have a 20 minute bus ride to work instead of a 45-1 hr bus ride. I am quite content.

In other news, the summer is a coming. I am frightened. Ok, that is a slight understatement I am scared for a number of reasons. First and foremost, the heat. URGH. The heat is already pretty intense and promises to creep up to 115 F before too long. During a 15 minute bus ride, I made the mistake of sitting down. The hot of the plastic seat seeped quickly through the cloth of my skirt made the sweat roll down my legs. I have learned that it is far better to have even the possibility of air circulation on all sides. Other things I have learned/am learning about summer in Ashgabat:

1) It is absolutely necessary to gravitate towards the shade. I now plot my path to and from the bus stop, to and from the bazaar, to and from anywhere and everywhere, by following the irregular splotches of dark on the sidewalk.

2) One must choose the side of the bus that will receive the least amount of direct sunlight over the course of the ride. This can be difficult to calculate because buses have this little habit of turning.

3) Choose articles of clothing by comparing thickness of material. I have been encouraged to buy transparent material for summer but can’t quite bring myself to do this. Wait a couple months and check back on this one.

4) It is never too hot to drink tea.

5) Purple sandals are all the craze.

6) If I run after 7 am, I turn a deep shade of red. This frightens any and everyone that happens to see me. I generally try to avoid this.

In parting I will entice you with my summer plans. June, as I have said, I will hopefully be doing some teacher training. The first half of July, I hope to help another volunteer out with her Water Camp on the Caspian Sea in Turkmenbashy. All those years and years of teaching swim lessons and lifeguarding seemed to have earned me a place at this dream of a camp. During the second half of July, I hope to head over to Thailand. This seems to be one of the more popular vacation spots for Peace Corps volunteers from Central Asia. It is close, plane tickets are cheap, living expenses are cheap, there are mountains, there are beaches, and there is Bangkok. August will be intensive Russian training, lesson planning and gathering resources for the new school year, and potentially traveling some within Turkmenistan. Then September will be back to school! All of these plans, however, hinge on my ability to withstand the heat. Wish me luck!

Write me or e-mail me! I miss you guys!

5. Me and Hilary in the London Eye Ferris Wheel.

4. Camden Town markets and bazaars.

3. Houses of Parliament

2. Hilary and I waiting for the tube.

1. London Eye!

Oh man it has been a LONG time since my last post. I apologize.

Latest news: I have been to London and back!

Last Saturday morning, although it now seems a thing of the distant past, I was on a plane to England’s glorious capital city.

Last Saturday afternoon, Hilary was hugging me like crazy as I emerged from the baggage claim area into the immensity of Heathrow airport.

Last Sunday, I was riding on the second level of a double-decker bus, visiting the eclectic Camden market, eating fish and chips, drinking a big 'ol quality beer, staring up at Big Ben, looking the wrong way down the street, minding the gap, and speaking all in ENGLISH. Funny how people still had trouble understanding me. I will blame this on the funny accents rather than on any kinda of deterioration of my own speaking abilities.

Last Monday, I was taking care of Hil and her 24 hour stomach dealio, I felt strangely at home doing so. Stomach dealios are all too common in T-stan. I can only thank all those ridiculous dares I took on (ex. chug two cups of Mexican salsa complete with a bunch of lime peals) in my hay days for preparing my stomach for T-stan bacteria.

Last Tuesday, I went around the world’s largest Ferris Wheel, the London Eye, in a small capsule with approximately 10 other gaping tourists. Then, we wandered dazed through a fascinating multitude of ancient artifacts in the British Museum, pondered our inability to truly appreciate how old and significant it all was, and dodged enthusiastic school groups on their quest for knowledge.

Last Tuesday night, I was on an airplane jittering with anticipation for my return home to T-stan, pining already for Hilary’s companionship, and chatting excitedly with other returnees.

Wednesday morning, I was back in the classroom J. And that was my London trip!

In London, I found myself dangerously repeating the phrase, “In T-stan, . . . .” to the detriment of quality conversation. However, I thought these little tid-bits may be culturally interesting for all you readers, so I will try to remember some of them.

“In T-stan, flushing toilet paper simply doesn’t happen!” Accordingly, I was at a loss when the obligatory tp depository was nowhere to be found.

“In T-stan, the Lexus is, in fact, quite common.” It is the luxury car of choice. However, the streets are mostly populated by Ladas and by Toyotas.

“In T-stan, there is sushi.” That is, in the capital city there are a number of expensive restaurants where eating sushi is a possibility. The closest I have come, however, is a California role.

“In T-stan, the buses are crazy crowded.” Upon exciting the bus during rush hour (morning: 7:30-8:30, lunch: 1-2, evening: 6:15-7), I check to see if all my limbs have followed my head out of the final threshold of squished people on the very bottom step of the bus. I have been lucky so far!

“In T-stan, they don’t have supermarkets like this.” I said this one while struggling to choose tea to take back to my family. This took like 30 minutes. I am simply no longer accustomed to this kind of variety. Thank you, Hilary for your patience!

“In T-stan, we absolutely do not wear shoes inside.” I fought like crazy against my urge to deposit my shoes at the door of the hostel but felt only vaguely out of place wandering the halls without shoes.

Ok, that’s all I can remember for now although I’m sure Hilary could add about fifty million more. Cringe.

If you couldn’t tell from the above commentary, I both loved London and was glad to get back to my classes in T-stan. I came back feeling recommitted to the Institute. I am doing really well with the changes I have made to my schedule (I now teach only 2nd year students, and I see them every week!). I feel as though I have continuity from week to week. I think the teachers are getting accustomed to planning with me the day before I come to their class. Also, the students see me not only as comedic relief, but as an opportunity to enrich their knowledge of the subject(s) they are currently studying through different teaching techniques.

For all you teachers out there, don’t begrudge me this wonderland because it simply does not exist! For one, I have found it difficult to hold the attention of the less motivated students when doing any sort of vaguely communicative activity. Memorization, translation, and repetition are the norms. When I stray from these three outdated methods, some students take this as invitation to whip out their cell phones. With a 12-year old, this wouldn’t faze me in the least. With a 25-year old, I am a bit hesitant to smack his or her metaphorical wrist. I am learning, however, to smack away because my position of authority is well-enough established at this point to back me up.

Ah!! I made an incredible discovery a couple of weeks ago. My institute has an interactive board. That’s right. In the heart of T-stan with the Peace Corps, yours truly has access to one of those boards upon which you can project the computer screen and then manipulate the screen (ex. open and close Microsoft Word, select a song to play in Windows Media) by using pointers on the actual board. How did such technology reach my institute? Courtesy of a US aid organization, of course. Upon discovering this absurdity, my original response was indignation. Why in the world do we have one of these ultra-modern machines when most of the chalkboards in my classrooms are useless (read: painted wood with so many paint drips that I feel like a caveman pawing at the rocky ground!). Then, I got over myself. I went home, and prepared a fabulously extravagant PowerPoint presentation on Spanish artists for the fourth year students. Hahahahah! Oh man. Once again, my Peace Corps experience has defied all stereotypes! Next week I hope to train my teachers to use PowerPoint themselves. Woot!

Outside the institute, blind class is fabulous. So fabulous, that I wrote an article for Camel Spit (the volunteer newspaper) about it. Here is the article:

Since October 1, I have learned a number of interesting and useful things. I have learned to flatter a “dayza” by calling her a “gelneje” and the meaning of 200 grams. I have learned that anything, even tufts from chipper-looking winter hats, can become a game. I have learned that tuft is a real word. I have learned to eat seeds without fearing the disruption of my internal organs by plant growth. I have learned to speak in Peace Corps acronyms and that glorious bus 16 gets me quickly from Teke to Impash. Although it took me a while, I have also learned that Impash is actually spelled Yimpaş. Finally, I have learned how the blind write. Ah, blind class.

First, the writer snaps a grid-like stencil into place atop a fresh sheet of paper. This stencil divides the paper into letter-sized squares of white. Then the writer fits a short pointed instrument to the knuckle of his bent second finger. The instrument is gripped by surrounding fingers to insure stability. Aiming the instrument into one of the designated squares, the writer applies just enough pressure to the paper to create an indention but not enough to create the much feared hanging chad. These indentions, in combination, form backwards letters, backwards words, and backwards sentences. When the stencil releases the paper, and the paper is turned over, the author can then slide his finger from left to right along a straight line of raised script. After much practice, the writer can click out sentences rapidly. If the writer is patient with the dictations of a certain T-17, the writer can even record new English vocab and the occasional grammatical structure.

You cannot possibly imagine how calming it is to listen to all this clicking. Twice a week, I rush from Russian lessons to blind class exhausted and generally frustrated by the tendency of Russian words to accommodate the gender of whatever other word they happen to be thrown alongside. What ever happened to integrity? Anyway. I get to blind class and my world slows down. I greet my students. Bagdan spends extravagant amounts of imagined money to buy deodorant from me, the store clerk. Leyli recites poetry she has written at home. Gulalik asserts that if she could meet a famous person, she would meet Enrique Iglesias and ask him if he is married. Ira snickers about Bagdan’s girlfriend and produces beautifully knit ceckas (socks) from mysterious packets. There is no rush, only delight in the learning process and delight in each other’s company. The hour does not fly by, and that’s ok. I don’t want it to.

Eventually, class is dismissed. My students wipe the smiles off their faces, link arms, and march out into the world with walking sticks tapping. I follow, but I can’t quite wipe the smile off my own face. Chalk it up to my American upbringing. I am ready once more to tackle Russian and commuting and the institute and life. Thank you, Stephanie, for gifting me your class.

That’s all for now, Oh, yeah. April 1st marked 6 months of service. Time flies! I miss you guys but at this rate, I’ll be home before you know it!

Me

I started my day, as usual, at the institute. I showed up an hour or so early for my first lesson to print out some ‘Oh Crap!’ materials. ‘Oh Crap!’ materials are necessary for those moments when you finish the entirety of your planned lesson in the first forty minutes of class and have a full 40 minutes left to go. I greeted the teachers in the lounge on my way in and immediately noted that something was up. Far too many teachers were lounging.

“No students today!” I was informed with smiles.

“Not any?” I asked.

Yesterday, I had taught two classes of only boys. The girls were busy rehearsing for their part in the upcoming national concert held in honor of Flag Day. I had enjoyed both of these lessons. As it turns out, boys focus much better when the girls are absent. You have to tip your hat sometimes to gender segregated education.

“No,” I was assured. “No students today. They have all been taken. “

I had a small moment with myself as I fantasized about bad lines from horror movies. Then I went to the resource room to study Russian. I have been neglecting my Russian. Strong words of chastisement are warranted and even welcome. If interested, please note the comment box below this post.

About 10 minutes later, I was called back into the teacher’s lounge. The teachers had a great idea. They would consolidate all the remainders. You know, all those ½ and ¾ that somehow avoided evolvement in the concert. So I held an eighty (80!!!!) minute lesson concocted purely from ‘Oh Crap!’ materials with a wide assortment of students. For all of you who watched me tediously over-plan for my summer school classes, YES, I have learned to wing it.

During the break between classes, I was invited to attend a Valentine’s Day production put on by the third year students. I walked to the next building over arm and arm with one of my co-workers. We learned about various love themed holidays around the world, we were wooed by an excerpt from Romeo and Juliet, we were serenaded by Celine Dion’s “My Heart Will Go On,” we observed (read: participated illegally by providing answers with poorly concealed gestures) a riddle-solving competition. The riddles included some oldies but goodies:

What always keeps two hands in front of its face?

What goes up and down at the same time?

What can run all day without getting hot?

What word has five letters but when you take away two, one is left?

What word is always pronounced wrong?

After all of this, we were served tea and candies in true Turkmen fashion.

I left the institute at 1:30 and delighted in the fact that my day had been absolutely unpredictable thus far and that I had adapted to this unpredictability.

Then I spent a frustrating but productive couple of hours acquiring a cheap plane ticket to London for vacation. Woot! I made good friends with a dayza (literally aunt but figuratively any woman over 45 with a headscarf and a turkey/peacock sweater) waiting in line. She, like so many dayzas before her, simply shook her head and gave me a wide-eyed “Tuweleme, tuweleme” (Rough translation: Let it continue to be so) when she discovered my country of origin.

Then. THEN. And this is perhaps the best part of my day. I was walking home from the bus stop when I encountered this kid. My walk home from the bus stop is about 15 minutes through a winding, fountain-filled park. I was enjoying the weather and my ipod when I saw him. He was about 4 years old and bundled up like crazy. His face was squashed by a tightly tied beany. Turkmen protect their children well against cold. He was tottering along at a break-neck speed about 15 full paces in front of his young mom with a huge smile on his face. He looked me straight in the face and gave me a quick ‘Zdrastvitze!’ (Russian hello spelled phonetically). Then he was past me. I did not have time to react. I did not have time to respond to his greeting or to the fact that he had a plastic ak 47 under his right arm. This is the only kind of gun allowed in T-stan. The huge smile hit my face only as I was passing his mom. She was startled by my huge smile.

Anything else to report??

Oh yes. The German! We acquired a German yesterday. This German did more than my unpredictable days to convince me that I am adjusting to life here. We acquired him at one of the bazaars where he stuck out like a sore thumb with his backpack and messy hair. No Turkmen would be caught in public with messy hair or dusty shoes. The first time Maya-my Russian teacher, Gary-another A-bot volunteer, and I passed this guy, Gary attempted a greeting. He didn’t have time to react and we were swept passed each other. So Gary went after him.

Once contact was made, the German claimed he had thought we were all Turkmen.

1 point for blending in.

He was looking for the independence monument. We looked at each other. This must be either bas or sekiz ayak (5 or 8 legs).

1 point for only knowing the nicknames of monuments.

We got him a beer and got him on a bus headed the right direction.

2 points for knowing the cheapest place to get the beer and 1 point for knowing the bus system.

As we accompanied him on the bus and to the monuments, we listened to his commentary. All the white buildings! All the interesting Turkmen-Soviet architecture! All the lights! We looked at each other in condescending amusement. Our stomping grounds. These things no longer seemed worthy of exclamation. They are simply permanent fixtures in the backdrop of our daily lives.

5 points for feeling comfortable with our surroundings. -1 point for the condescension.

Thank you, oh wandering German, for making my day!!

Total: 9 adjustment points! Almost a perfect 10!

Hope you are all doing well! Thank you so much for all the winter wear you have sent me. I have survived the worst part of the winter with all my fingers and toes intact. I miss you guys. Shoot me an e-mail whenever!!

Me

Note: Today I feel adjusted. Tomorrow I won’t. This is the glory of living abroad!

Anyone from good ol' Memorial Middle School catch the above reference????? If so, you will be less than tempted to read on!!!

Sunday! The glories of “dync gun” (rest day) aka “bazaar gun!” This morning I began to wake up naturally around 8:30 and finished around 9. From the western most window of my bedroom, I have an incredible view of the Kopet Dag (mountains). On clear mornings, like this morning, the view is absolutely breathtaking. Thanks to last week's light snow, they are wonderfully accentuated by white. Perhaps because I’ve lived in mountain-less Houston for so very long, the mountains surprise me every morning. I am, thanks to both Mendoza, Arg. and Asgabat, T-stan, doomed to be a mountain person (Hilary, this doesn’t me I can’t enjoy the beach!!). I stared out the window for a good long time before donning my running gear.

The running has become a common occurrence. Only on Sundays, though, do I have the luxury of waiting until daylight. Daylight runs are entertaining. I generally pass a good number of bus stops on these runs. The individuals waiting at these stops and I have a healthy give-and-take relationship. I provide them with high quality entertainment, and they in turn, encourage me to pick up my pace. I am determined to show them not only that girls can run, but that they can run fast! As soon as I’m out of sight, my pace slows down, and I click my ipod to a faster paced song in an effort to stay inspired.

After my run, I give my face a good long time to return to its natural color, take a quick shower, and figure out what to make for lunch. Lunch on Sundays has become my responsibility. While my host parents re-stock for the coming week at the Bazaar, I use my trusty Peace Corps issued cook book to come up with an “American” meal. So far, I have made French toast, spaghetti, enchiladas, fajitas, fried rice with eggs, and today I made a quiche. The fact that none of these dishes are strictly American does not seem to faze my family in the least. Cooking, as I mentioned before, is wonderful. Talk about instant gratification. You cook something, it’s done, you eat it, and it tastes good (generally speaking). Dishes are also good for instant gratification. You start with a big pile and when you finish you (ok, maybe not you, but I) have a great sense of accomplishment. Yes, I realize I am conforming to traditional gender roles, but I can only hope the running balances this out a little bit!

Dync gun afternoons are quiet. I read and plan semi-productively for the next week. My weeks, however, are not quiet. Since my last post, my days have continued to fill up. In the morning, I spend my time at the institute reading, bonding with my teachers, and preparing for next semester. My students are busy with exams so I’m not currently teaching. After the institute, you may find me learning Russian (twice a week), prepping a friend for SAT (twice a week), or teaching an English class for the blind at a nearby community center (twice a week). This class was gifted to me by a previous volunteer, and each time I go, I’m crazy thankful. My students are so patient and eager to learn. Also, this past Saturday, I held my first girls soccer practice and went wonderfully. We worked on passing (with the inside of the foot!), stopping the ball, and learning the positions on the field. The participants seemed to enjoy learning and the novelty of being female and playing soccer. This will hopefully become a weekly occurrence.

Other random observations from the past few weeks:

1. Chocolate is magical. Dark chocolate is a stronger magic than milk chocolate.

2. Russian is intimidating. Also, ‘may I’ (phonetically: mojno) in Russian should not be confused with ice-cream (phonetically: morojno) in Turkmen.

3. Turkish grocery stores (or rather, store b/c there is only one) have everything except good soccer balls. This includes a small bowling alley, a Turkish bakery, cinnamon, escalators, wall hooks, and Christmas/New Years decorations.

4. Tucked-in turtlenecks count as professional clothes.

5. Monthly bus passes are God’s second greatest gift to man. After dark chocolate of course.

Hope everyone is doing well and staying healthy!!

One day ‘till Obama!

Me

Today is Christmas Eve, and I am in Turkmenistan. You will all be surprised to know that Ashgabat is decked out in true Christmas fashion. Multicolored lights snake around and around large, previously unadorned trees. Garland, in a wide variety of colors, hangs above many doorways and even above the blackboard in one of my classrooms. According to reports, the bazaars are far more packed than usual. The only thing is, Turkmen, as a general rule, do not celebrate Christmas . These decorations are not Christmas decorations at all! They are New Year's decorations. It seems that New Years here in T-stan is celebrated in much the same way as we celebrate Christmas in the US. This makes my answer to the question, "How do you celebrate Christmas???" really anticlimactic. My answer to the question, "How will you be celebrating tomorrow?" is even more anticlimactic. I will be teaching at the institute. On second thought, this isn't anticlimactic at all. I am truly enjoying my time at work.

Because I have a full two week rotation, I am still in the long process of meeting all the classes and all of the students with whom I will work. In each class, I do a variety of get-acquainted activities. In all the classes, I allow each student to ask me one question about myself. Here are some of the questions I am asked (the order of questions doesn't vary much between classes) :

What is your name? (Response to my answer: that is a really long name)

How old are you? (Response to my answer: oooohhhh, young)

Are you married?

Why not? (My answer: in America, I am far too young to marry)

Do you like Turkmen boys? Will you marry here?

What is your favorite Turkmen national meal? (My answer: Manti!!!)

Do you like the Turkmen national dress? (My answer: yup because its super comfy)

Why are you here? (My answer: your country asked my country for English teachers)

What is one thing you like in the world?

What are your hobbies? (My answer: reading, running, and I used to play soccer) (Response to soccer: mouths dropping open)

Tell about your family.

How do you define love?

Etc.

I hope this give you some insight into my day!!

Merry Christmas!

I love you all and stay safe!

Where I am and what I’m doing:

Permanent site WOOT! I’m living in the big city (A-BOT) now with a new host family. I’m learning the bus system, walking around in an attempt to situate myself, spending quality time with the new family, cooking (I made tortillas and salad dressing from scratch) and exploring the bazaars. I love bazaars. I am particularly familiar with four bazaars here in T-stan.

I frequented the small bazaar in Anew throughout training and would like to take a moment to wish both the cake vendor (who allowed me to bargain for the unbargainable: the Turkmen cake) and the Russian dukan (shop) woman (who provided me with school supplies and moist gingerbread) the best. For better or worse, I have moved on to bigger and more expensive bazaars.

Teke bazaar is perhaps the most aesthetically pleasing of the A-bot bazaars. The entire front side is populated by flower vendors. Teke only recently ticked me off by providing me with four almost entirely meatless chickens for Thanksgiving dinner. Before this little incident, Teke was indisputably my favorite because of the flowers and because of its convenient location next to the Peace Corps office.

Note: Despite the insufficiencies of the “turkey,” Thanksgiving Turkmen style was a huge success. Pictures are on their way.

The Russian Bazaar is quickly replacing Teke as the favorite. The Russian Bazaar is much larger and provides a wider variety of dukanlar. One end of this bazaar is dominated by this huge white abstract sculpture that towers over the fruit and vegetable section. I have made friends here. My most notable and most visited of these friends is the shaslick (spelling?) vendor. A shaslick is a small piece of Russian deliciousness. Laura, I hope for your own sake you have experienced the wonder of the shaslick first hand. Also at the Russian bazaar I discovered soy sauce. The purchase of said soy sauce furthered my endless scavenger hunt for ingredients I know how to cook with! Hurra!

Finally, there is Talkucka. I am so very intimidated by Talkucka. Talkucka, located a ways outside A-bot, claims to be the largest bazaar in Central Asia. Here, reputedly, are the best deals. I believe it. However, I have no idea how to find them amidst the general chaos and the dust. Talkucka did, I must admit, provide me with some incredibly warm winter man boots. For this I will be eternally grateful despite my intimidation.

Why am I not working? During my first full day at my permanent site, I taught two lessons. Both went well. Day two at my permanent site marked the beginning of four day national holiday (plus weekend) hence the exploration of bazaars. I am itching to get started.

The following probably warrants its own post. Prepare yourself mentally for a drastic shift in tone. Take a deep breath. Maybe take a bathroom break or go make yourself a cup of tea. Ok. Now continue reading.

What I feel:

I feel entirely undereducated. What have I done with the last 23 years of my life? Yesterday, I rediscovered a large patch of white hair. These white hairs are quickly developing into a white streak. A white streak! I am far too ignorant to have a white streak. I am the antithesis of distinguished. Someone please take my education in hand. It is long overdue.

No. No. I need to take myself in hand. I need to self-educate. Too bad I don’t even know where to start. I am daunted because I know nothing. History? History would be a good place to start. But I fear I would never catch up to the present. Economics? I know nothing of economics. Yes, it is bad that gas prices are so low. That means less money spent which is bad because that means there is no money to spend. Which is bad. I know exactly what I’m talking about. Just press me on this, and I’ll come up with this incredibly eloquent defense of the above statement. Or not.

So economics. But then how deep do I go? How long do I spend dwelling in the realm of Mr. C, the monotonous high school kill-joy? How do I doll out the days of my life to the diversity of subjects at hand? How do I go about the deliberate process of learning everything in an observable, measurable, and achievable way? If and when I do in fact achieve this, how ever will I retain all this information?

And here is the thing: If I spend the necessary time, if I devote myself fully to the study of [insert whatever is most important to learn] and give this discipline the attention it deserves, my present will cease to exist. This is horrifically unsatisfying. I hold my college experience up as an example of full and unsatisfactory devotion to learning. Four years of present-less living drove me to the Peace Corps, brought me to Turkmenistan, and now, here I am willing and ready to give up my present once more. I am faced with so many conspicuous opportunities for immediate action, but instead of embracing these opportunities, I am ready to go back into the closet of in-action.

Buck up! Support yourself with all those wonderful motivating clichés! Grab hold of the reins and ride! Take that leap of faith! Etc.

But no, this isn’t it either. It isn’t one or the other. It isn’t learning or action. I must take action and hope and pray that my knowledge acquisition can keep pace with all the doing that will quickly commence. No, that’s not right either. Hoping and praying isn’t enough; I must inundate my free time with books.

Even if I read fiendishly, I will not always have the knowledge to support my actions. I should face this fact now. I should face this fact and prepare myself to admit this openly to my students, to my colleagues, to my host family: I messed up because I had no idea what to do, but I had to do something.

And this will be ok. It will be ok when I fail. If I accept this, I can relax. I can enjoy learning and doing without trying to conquer all knowledge. I can admit that I have a lifetime. This is not some test. I cannot learn everything in time. This is true for two reasons. First, I can’t learn everything. Second, my time is unlimited. I mean the whole thing about death, by disregarding that little hindrance, I’ve got all of eternity. So, give me some more of those nice resource books, please Peace Corps. The heavier the better. I am ready to sift! That is when I’m not fully occupied with functioning in an absolutely new present I have found here in T-stan, a present that requires energy and focus because it is so entirely new. The bazaars are a very good example of this newness. You like that little tie in?

I am whelmed. And content.

I miss you all!

First picture: Camel hair belt vendor in Talcucka, the largest outdoor market in Central Asia. Check out the typical Turkmen dress!

Second picture: view from the health walk.

Third picture: My host mother, me (in koinik), host sister during training.

Fourth picture: Learning Turkmen!

Fifth picture: Me in front of Turkmenbasy's Mosque- I'm stylin'!

Sixth picture:Kristen, Annie, Me, Chase, and Ariel in Blue Mosque during layover in Istanbul.

Seventh picture: Host family sisters and I cooking in Anew during training.

Eighth picture: Typical apartments in Ashgabat.

Laura and company, I finally concede. I cannot live my life at a normal pace. I have managed, since my last blog post, to fill my days to the brim. This morning, I backed out of our training group’s weekly cultural field trip to preserve my own sanity. In my ‘free’ time, I went for a long run, took a longer shower (yes, I have a shower. I’m a spoiled brat), vacuumed my room, shook the rugs, did tons of laundry, refilled my water filter, and did the dishes. Mom, you probably wouldn’t recognize me; I now engage in household chores to relax. At 12, I will head to language training.

Thank goodness there is only one week of training left. That’s right. ONE WEEK. Then I will be a full fledged volunteer.

What does this mean? For one, this means a change in location. I will be moving from Anew, a small city outside of the capital into the heart of the capital, Ashgabat. I will be changing host families. Formalized language training will end. WOOT! And I will start teaching at my permanent site, the language university.

Asgabat, in case I haven’t told you, is big time. On Sundays, our one free day, most of the volunteers make the trek into the city so we are becoming more and more familiar with it’s ins and outs. It is a beautiful city full to brimming with tall, heavy, white buildings and Soviet style monuments. Everything is trimmed in green and gold. Once I make the big move, I will live in one of these tall white buildings near a monument affectionately nicknamed ‘8 legs.’ Thanks to irrigation, the streets are lined with trees. All of the trunks of these trees are painted a brilliant white for aesthetic purposes. The streets are well-paved and empty of traffic. It is a Houstonian’s dream come true! Because there are so few cars, all cars function as taxis. A taxi ride within the city costs about 66 cents. Also, perhaps the most exciting part, there is a big Russian population here. Why is this exciting? This means I will not stand out. Already, as long as I don’t open my mouth or move in big packs of volunteers, and if I wear my 1 koinik (traditional dress), I blend in! I’m working on the language thing.

A while back, all 43 of us new volunteers made permanent site visits. From our training sites (all clustered around the capital) we spread out around the country to meet our host families and permanent site counterparts. Some of us had a 24 train ride, some a 45 minute plane ride, some a 5 hour bus ride. I personally had a 30 minute taxi ride.

My new host family is great. I feel like I’ve been so lucky with host families! Knock HARD on wood. My current host family is wonderful: laid-back, kind, welcoming, and tolerant of my ignorance. There are 3 college students in my current family. In all of T-stan, there are approximately 4,000 college students. Lucky. Me. Very. Furthermore, my host sister speaks good English and has been plotting with me to start an Environmental club. Her excitement is rubbing off on me.

But back to my next host family . . .

My future host family consists of a younger couple, maybe around 35, and their three kids ages 10, 8, and 4 months. That’s right. Four months. They are also kind, welcoming, and tolerant of my American ignorance. Plus, they let me skip the whole guest stage (see previous blog). During my visit, I held the baby, sang to the baby (please avoid comments about horrible singing voice, thanks), cooked some Manti (steamed ravioli-like dumpling things), played frisbee, was sent to buy bread etc. I enjoyed my time with them.

The job. The job is INTENSE.

Note: Maybe I should stop with the block letters. I may come across as a hyper-emotional teenager. Then again, I feel a little bit like a hyper-emotional teenager here!

At the language institute, I will be replacing a current volunteer. She is fabulous and has truly paved the way for me. Thank you Toni if you happen to be reading this! This week and next week, instead of working in Anew I have been and will be commuting to Asgabat to get a jump start on the real job. So, I have been spending a good chunk of time picking her brain (and observing classes).

From what I understand, I will be teaching twenty different model lessons in twenty different classrooms with twenty different teachers and with twenty different groups of students every two weeks. HAHAHAHA. Breath. Ahhhh. It is daunting but surprisingly manageable. The exciting part is I get to teach pretty much anything I want. I will not be restricted by the required curriculum. Instead, my lessons will be viewed as supplementary. This set up doesn’t exactly meet Peace Corps request for sustainable projects, but I’m not about to start changing things before I figure out how the university works. My biggest worry, and it really isn’t very big thanks again to Dr. Heckelman and company, is proving myself as a teacher. Because I’m the same age as many of my students and younger than some and because Toni had many more years of teaching experience under her belt prior to this job, all eyes are on me. Oh, and classes are 80 minutes long. That is a long time.

Language learning: Continues. I’m frustrated.

Hypothesis: Afternoon coffee drinking correlates with level of frustration.

Observations: When I drink coffee (by coffee I mean offbrand Nescafe packets with the word ‘STRONG’ in bold), my brain clears. I want to move quickly.

Procdures: 1. Stop drinking coffee.

2. Observe results. Or have someone else observe results if I am asleep.

In other news, I’m building a wardrobe. I have one dress made. One being made. And I recently bought a beautiful brown velvet fabric for parties. I will be so styling. Oh and I bought winter boots. It was a struggle. I searched long and hard to find the only pair of women’s boots in the biggest bazaar in Central Asia that would fit my enormous feet (thanks dad). They are hideous but so very warm. I am in love.

Finally, here are my current goals:

1. Learn Turkmen. Learn English Grammar. Learn Russian. In that order.

2. Floss Daily. Turkmen enjoy their sweets. Solely to integrate culturally, I have been indulging.

3. SLOW DOWN.

Sorry this is so long! There is so much to tell you!

Write me! Letters are amazing. Alternatively, send warm clothing.

Tess

I’ll start off with today. Today was amazing and not at all representative of my daily life here. Here it goes anyway. I have decided the shortened version will sound much more impressive and much more off-hand (cause I’m that gosh darn cool).

I woke up, went running, showered, ate some chorek (bread), put on a bathing suit, sweater, and pants, put a skirt over my pants, got in a van with 10ish other volunteers, drove for an hour, took off the skirt, got out, climbed a small mountain, climbed back down, ate kebabs for lunch, took off the pants and sweater, swam in an underground sulfer lake, tried to rock climb the walls of the sulfur lake, dried off, put on the pants and sweater, drank a beer, put on the skirt, got in a bus, drove for an hour, got out of the bus, ate an ice cream, and came home. Whew. It was a big day.

But today was, like I said, not real life in Turkmenistan. Today was Peace Corps Fun Day to recognize that I am half way through training! Woot. And I am. I can hardly believe it. I have been here for 5 weeks.

Daily life here in Anew, where I am doing my pre-service training, is fabulous but in a peaceful, productive, full kinda way rather than a crazy, cool, bragging rights kinda way (above).

My day consists of six main components: walking, technical training, language training, family, wishing I had the dedication to study more, and eating.

I start my day off by donning the obligatory ankle length skirt, dress shirt, and dress shoes. I then drink 3-5 cups of tea with my morning bread before embarking on the 30 minute walk to school. I am often accompanied by my family’s dog whom I have affectionately nicknamed Chuck Norris. He smells. Like woah. Like a port-o-pot with four inch legs and a tail. Regardless, this walk gets my brain ready for the mental acrobatics I put it through.

Technical training is in the morning. This generally means spending quality time with my assigned counterpart in her classroom. And I have to say, my counterpart is superwoman. For all of you teachers out there, she has six preps. SIX. In one week. She teaches 4th graders and she teaches 10th graders and she teaches various other grades in between. Grade level really doesn’t matter though because grade level does not determine language ability. Inconsistent language instruction has made life pretty confusing. She teaches English in Russian for some classes and in Turkmen for others. This past week she picked cotton after school with the other teachers from Birinji Mekdep (1st school) in their government assigned field. She even teaches on Saturday.

My job, as I have defined it thus far, is to alleviate some of her hefty, hefty work load. Along the way, I hope to introduce various new teaching techniques (Peace Corps goal). Friday, I taught my first and second full lessons in Turkmenistan. I had done some 10 and 15 minute-ers before but this was the real deal. It felt so good to be in front of a class! Thank you Dr. Heckelman and company for preparing me for anything.

Lunch=Feast with 6 other trainees in group.

Language Training = Brain Beating. To all you pre-meds out there, I think I feel your pain. We have four hours of in-class language and in those four hours I attempt to shove as much Turkmen in my brain as I possibly can. But it the cramming does not end in class. Oh no. This is a ‘round the clock endeavor. This is absolutely positively the marathon of language learning. I enjoy the challenge and am doing my best to keep up my pace. Struggling. But doing my best.

On my thirty minute walk home, I am often accompanied by the green dress wearing/black suited school kids who get out at about of the same time. All of them are ready to try out their English.

HULLO. HULLO. HOW ARR YOU? I AM OK. I LUV YOU. GOODBYE.

I do a ton of informal English teaching on my walk home to preserve my own sanity.

Dinner here is huge. Honestly, most meals here are huge. Turkmenistan is quite proud of its guesting culture. They have a pretty simple and telling saying: the guest is king. The king requires copious amounts of food, copious amounts of cay (tea), and copious amounts of candy. Also, the royal family stops by often. All the time in fact. For the record, I think this concept of visiting is absolutely fabulous and enjoy helping my family prepare for guests BUT if I don’t break out of the role of king ASAP I’m going to gain 200 lbs real quick.

After dinner, I chill with the fam some more, do the dishes, study (too much my host cousin told me), and generally fall asleep with my face firmly in the pages and pages of Turkmen vocab for which I am responsible.

Yes, I am exhausted, but I love it here. I am consumed by my work, by my life. I am fascinated by the culture in which I will spend the next two years. This is what I want.

More later. Internet is super unreliable so don’t know when!

I miss you guys. Write me! Letters are amazing.

I'm living with a very kind host family for the first three months. I'm learning to eat sitting on the floor, properly poor tea, use a squat toilet, and of course the langauge. I'm also adapting to the long skirts. That's right. Tess in long skirts ALL THE TIME. Believe it.

We have five hours of language training per day but I'm picking it up quickly. I can't wait till I can actually communicate! Simple sentences is all I can manage at this point.

I have also met my counterpart (english teacher) who I will be working with for the first three months and she seems very nice and very experienced. I will be learning more from her than I could ever possibly give to her. Humbling. Fabulous.

More later! Write me letters!!

Hello committed readers!

I am enjoying training in Philadelphia. I'm learning like crazy. It is very reassuring to finally speak one-on-one with someone intimately acquainted with Turkmenistan. My uncertainties and questions are vanishing quickly as I soak up all kinds of fun info.

For those of you waiting anxiously to send me lots and lots of letters from home, my mailing address will be as follows:

US Peace Corps/Turkmenistan

P.O. Box 258, Krugozor

Central Post Office

Ashgabat, 744000

Tess Elmore

TURKMENISTAN

I hope to hear from you soon. Because of the restrictions placed on blog use for the Peace Corps, letter writing and e-mailing may be a more personal way to get in touch with me.

Hope to hear from you soon!!

As many of you know, I will be leaving for the unknown wilds of Turkmenistan THIS SATURDAY. If this seems somewhat absurd to all you readers out there, let me assure you it is. Based in large part on this abusurdity, I anticipate my experience to be blog-worthy. We shall see . . .