At COS Conference back in June, one of the activities we did was to write down a funny/interesting story that we will remember from Kazakhstan. After a long time spent tracking down these scraps of paper from my peers, I finally have them in hand and will transcribe some here for your reading pleasure :D

"We sang 'Better Together' by Jack Johnson at our 5-year old host brother's circumcision party."

-Corinne

***************

"In my apartment that I share with a local, I've slowly been accidentally and absentmindedly destroying things. I've burned the carpet, stained the pans with curry, and caused the wallpaper to rip simply because of opening the window. I expected to be chastised and yelled at for my idiocy. The local's response was, "Eh, want some homemade wine?"

-Scott

***************

"My host mom told me I will never get married because I can't cook without a recipe. Unfortunately, this did not stop the marriage offers from coming..."

-Anna

***************

"This winter in my village around January, the septic tank froze. My host dad curtly said 'Roshan, you will need to tolerate soon'. So, for the next two months, we had no septic, and since we have no outhouse at my home, I went to the toilet literally with the pigs almost on a daily basis. Oh how I missed the privacy of an outhouse."

-Roshan

**************

"After getting a stomach bug in India, I was forced to give a stool sample at side in a local clinic. I had to give said stool sample in a household cooking pot, because apparently that was the most suitable apparatus they had, and I was given strips from magazine pages for toilet paper. It was super."

-Tom

****************

"For the first 6 weeks at my VERY professional NGO, I mistakenly called a common, cherio-like cracker (whose name is 'sooshkee'), by a horribly wrong name. Instead of saying 'sooshkee', I kept saying 'sooCHkee', which in Russian means 'little bitches'. So, they didn't correct me because they thought it was hilarious to hear me say, 'Mmmm these little bitches are tasty!' or 'Can we get some more of these little bitches?' or 'Can you pass me the little bitches?' or even 'Gosh, I sure love these little bitches!!' They still laugh at me, actually."

-Me

***************

"At a teacher's picnic, we had a skit competition. Everything was in Kazakh and I am a Russian speaker, so when a man dressed in banana peels and leaves started acting, all I understood was my name, 'America', and 'Africa'. All of a sudden he charged me, scooped me up and ran into the hills with me. That's when I realized he was bride-napping me. But don't worry, I am still without a husband."

-Sam P.

**************

"I had to come to Almaty unexpectedly and bribed my way onto a 'full' train just as it was leaving and station, only to realize I'd forgotten to leave my keys for the person watching my apartment and feeding my cat. He called from the station to tell me, and in a panic, I threw my keys out of the window of the moving train for him to go and find along the tracks."

-Bree

***************

"First train ride. The guy next to me was so impressed by my Kazakh toast that he made me repeat it for 3 groups. Later, after his wife fell asleep, he snuck out vodka and we took a few 100gram shots and sand Beatles songs together."

-Michael

***************

"I was trying to say 'When we arrive in Petropavlask the weather will be chilly', and instead what came out was, 'Tomorrow I will need a sanitary napkin'".

-Aaron (this was in sign language)

***************

"3 Volunteers and myself were in Karaganda and hopped in a taxi to go to Karkaralinsk, a village in a national park. We all fell asleep and when we woke up, we were outside of Astana, where we had been earlier that day. We asked him to take us back, and he said he would for double the price. Why double the price? Because it's holiday pricing to go back. We made it a night in Astana."

-Chris T

***************

"Once, I saw a cow in the middle of a luscious, green pasture...eating a cardboard box."

-Jon

***************

"I got my butt grabbed by a FIVE YEAR OLD...good to know I still got it :D"

-Echo

***************

"Because the air in Kazakhstan is so dry, clothes tend to stick to each other. One day, in a lesson, I had been sitting for probably ten minutes, wearing a loose-fitting skirt and nude-colored tights. I got up rather quickly to write on the board, and my skirt had gotten stuck into my tights...I was exposed. Thank God for Christmas-package granny panties..."

-Audrey

***************

"For 15 months, I thought our cat was named 'Trash', and my host family just thought that my accent was off every time I said its name."

-Gambrill

***************

"I was going to a conference where I was going to speak only Kazakh, and I was nervous, so my counterpart, in an effort to comfort me, sent me a motivational SMS of 'Don't worry, you'll do great. Break your leg.'"

-Laura M

*************

"I was reading over a translation that a teacher of mine had done about biology and plants. I was reading about some kind of tulip or something, and read 'the tulip is bisexual'. I think the idea was that it had both male and female parts."

-Dawn

*************

"At 10pm in the middle of the frozen steppe, my bus silently tipped over. I say silently because no one made a noise, including the child that I fell on. No explanation, no plan of action, and a lack of free tickets for life reminded me that I was in Kazakhstan."

-Sam C

**************

"My counterpart asked me to be her 'padrushka' at her wedding, which is the person who sits next to her at both weddings, the bride's and the groom's. Well, by the end of the first wedding ceremony, I hadn't slept in 36 hours, so I got ridiculously sick, and I spent half of the groom's wedding puking in the bathroom of the cafe. The worst part was everyone was so worried about me, that attention shifted from my friend, the bride, all onto me. It was mortifying. Now it's funny, though."

-Sarah

***************

"Kazakhstan has tried to maim me in bizarre and unsettling ways throughout my service. I fell into a manhole filled with steaming human waste, almost fell into a water-filled trash pit while rescuing a dog, and recently got bitch-slapped by a six-year-old on a train."

-Katharine

***************

"I pooped myself two and a half times in one day IN PUBLIC. Thanks giardia <3"

-Phillip

***************

"My Russian still sucks, so when I was describing my kids to my tutor, I told her my daughter works at a store which sells 'man parts' instead of 'car parts'. In Russian, 'man' and 'car' are very similar. She was horrified until we got it finally to a place where she understood my daughter was not actually a sex worker."

-Paul

**************

"During my second Russian tutoring session at my site, my Russian tutor's 6-month old son woke up from a nap and began to cry. This meant it was time for dinner, I guess. She came back with him and an unbuttoned blouse. Dinner time happened right in front of me. I found this rather distracting."

-Myles

**************

"Riding in a 4-hour marshrutka ride going home, I had to pee so badly that I was trying to plan a way to go in my Nalgene. I had my pants unbuttoned, and my fellow Volunteer had her coat held up, when the man sitting in the seat beside us woke up. I lasted the next 30 minutes until we got to the rest stop. At the rest stop, the hole was completely frozen over and I had to watch my stream run out the open door. Also, I told the driver at one point, 'It's a collision', instead of, 'It's an emergency' to get them to pull over."

-Hannah

**************

"I was asked to judge a student 'debate' at a local university, only to find that it was actually a KBH comedy show with sparkly Lady Gaga dancers and inappropriate jokes. CULTURE SHOCK."

-Becca

***************

"I was walking with another Volunteer roughly my age, and someone asked if she was my mother."

-Chris

***************

"Hit a cow while in a taxi with a drunk driver (with visiting PCTs in the backseat)."

-Jessica

***************

"Got proposed to on the marshrutka on Valentine's Day by the bus driver. We had just met."

-Becky

Finally uploading this VIDEO from Camp GLOW outside Kokshetau-- the girls were amazing at singing this song and it speaks to the purpose of inspiring mutual understanding between people and between countries. I hope you enjoy the performance!

(me at my last day of work at Credo)

I leave Karaganda tomorrow afternoon on my last train ride in Kazakhstan [had a brief scare last week when all of the train tickets were sold out and I almost had to 1) walk to Almaty 2) hitch a ride with the melon sellers 3) bribe my way onto the train or 4) ride a 22 hour bus...glad my director solved that quandary for me by calling in some favors and finding me ticket on the sold-out train].

In honor of my (and my sitemate's) impending departure, I have attended a number of goodbye parties and farewell events. As hard as it was to say goodbye to friends and family in America before coming to Kazakhstan for 2 years, it is even harder to say goodbye to the people I have interacted with here in my daily routine, knowing that I may never see them again. In the past week, I have said goodbye to people in Abai, Aktas, Timertau, Credo, the American Corner, and Fitnes Star, and it just isn't getting any easier despite practice. Sigh.

Tangentially, I am reminded of how much moving sucks. Especially international moves. I have been confronted with the dilemma of fitting my life over the last 2 years into a finite amount of space and I can't even tell you how many 'Leave the gun. Take the cannoli' moments I've had while trying to make it all fit and still leave room for bringing a melon on the plane with me (Oh you better believe I'm ridin' dirty on my flight out, Kazakh style). TSA is going to scan my bag upon entering the US and fail to comprehend why a person would need to travel with: a horse whip, collection of teacups, currency from 14 different countries, a camel, a rug, a ridiculous fur coat, beer food, and a very obvious lack of personal hygiene products (gotta make weight limit! Take the yurt, leave the shampoo, you feel me?).

Oh how I hope they ask me about the horse whip so I can explain that it is used to spur the horses on in a rough and tumble Kazakh take on Polo, where a severed goat head is beaten up and down a piece of steppe by today's nomadic warriors. The fact that the whip is called a "Cumshot" makes this exchange all the better in my head. You can imagine why. (insert immature snicker teehee).

All of last week, I was in the village Aktas for a drug-demand reduction sports camp. As you know, I have been working with at-risk boys in Aktas since March as a part of our DDR grant that I wrote last fall. The camp was the culmination of our youth development program, where 50 boys age 5-17 participated in team-building challenges, anti-drug sessions, self-confidence/empowerment activities, sports, and critical thinking games. In the days leading up to the camp I was particularly nervous about how successful I would be in facilitating/leading activities strictly in Russian (this was a 100% local language camp), as well as how the community would react to this kind of camp (nothing like it has ever been done in Aktas).

On the back-end of it all, I can say that the camp exceeded my expectations and the kids absolutely loved the experience. None of them had ever participated in a scavenger hunt (and the police had never seen one, which led to an interesting conversation about WHY 50 kids were running around like chickens with their heads cut off), nor had they done the relay races that are typical for us in America (re: 3 legged race, wheelbarrow race, etc). From the grand opening, where my director and my local counterpart (Jenya) gave speeches to onlookers, all the way to the closing, the kids were excited and willing to work with Americans who speak Russian with mistakes and funny accents. They entertained my questions about mutual cooperation and teamwork, and even demonstrated noticeable progress on that front from the beginning of the week to the end. But more than that, they were attentive during our "serious" sessions and engaged in conversation on topics that are not often discussed in their world.

I could continue tripping all over myself here about how fortunate I am to have worked with them and to have pulled off a project that was both meaningful and fun, but honestly, it is still sinking in just how earth-shattering it really is in some respects. I never thought I'd go to a tiny village in Kazakhstan, work with youth from some of the most desperate situations you could imagine, speak with them in THEIR native language, and arrive every morning to a camp to have 30 of the littlest kids come streaking across the square wearing our over-sized blue tshirts and screaming "Heeeelaryyyyyyyyyyy" until I gave each of them a hug.

Yea. If you asked me what I've been doing in my last few days as a PCV in Kazakhstan, I would tell you without hesitation that I have been living the dream.

Drive-by post this time (more posts to come-- finishing up my drug-demand-reduction camp in the village today!) about Camp GLOW, which I explained a post or so ago. I want to share with you the 10 minute video created from this camp, where you can get a better feel for how Camp GLOW impacts young women in Kazakhstan. For the video, click HERE.

Check back in the next couple of days. I leave Kazakhstan in a week and promise to wrap up the blog with some real dandies :D

Contrary to what you may believe after reading my last post, I do a lot more as a PCV other than sit around pondering weighty topics and thinking up big words (though my ample time spent on the bus provides me with just what I need to do those two things). Truth be told, my work-load has only picked up in the last few months, and whereas other PCVs are tapering off and preparing for departure, I am finding more and more things that must be done before I leave (what's new, right?). So, in an effort to keep you abreast of my work activities, here is the quickly cranked-out version of what I have been doing in Kazakhstan as of late. And by "cranked out", I mean really, I just sat and thunder-typed my way through it, so don't go looking for eloquence in the rundown :D I'm all business today, people. Time is tenge. (Click here for the last update I gave you back in March. Shame on me).

DemCom Project in Abai and Timertau (see this post for the original grant)- photo 1, photo 2, photo 3, photo 4, photo 5

DDR Project in Aktas (see this post for the original grant)- photo 1, photo 2, photo 3, photo 4, photo 5

Insights into Development Conference in Almaty (see this post for the original grant or here for the official website and program)- photo 1, photo 2, photo 3, photo 4, photo 5, photo 6

Women's Crisis Center in Abai- photo 1, photo 2, photo 3, photo 4, photo 5

International Volunteer Conference in Astana- photo 1, photo 2, photo 3, photo 4

Camp GLOW in Kokshetau- photo 1, photo 2, photo 3, photo 4, photo 5

European Commission Grant (see this post for the original grant)

Miscellaneous/Extraneous items to come shortly (I simply ran out of steam on this post).

In other news, I recently secured an apartment in Houston, I purchased tickets to see Journey in the Woodlands on September 24, I registered for the Houston Half Marathon in January 2012, I registered for the IronMan Triathlon in May 2012 (yea, that's how hardcore I am), and I begin my new job on September 15. Two weeks from now, I will be on an airplane to Scandinavia, where I will see the latest Harry Potter movie and revel in the fact that I am an RPCV from the Republic of Kazakhstan. America, I'm coming straight to your heart at 5:47 PM East-Coast time on August 15th. Get. Ready.

Wanna know a secret? I'm not even back in the United States yet and I'm already contemplating when I can go on my next international vacation. There is clearly something wrong with me because my idea of stress relief is staring at the world map on my wall and making fantasy backpacking itineraries. *Sigh*.

Disclaimer: Cue the finding closure, processing-out-loud, stream of consciousness, nostalgic melodrama that is the last 3 weeks as a PCV in the Republic of Kazakhstan. Welcome to my brain, world, drop some crumbs for yourself lest you get lost in my over-analysis.

(photo- open steppe between Karaganda and Astana where I have done a lot of this thinking as of late)

A fire line is the gap between the combustible and combustion; a literal space of nothingness on the edge of a sweltering madness in which fire finds no fodder; an intentional, fixed, obdurate eye of the storm where the chaos of a whirling, screaming deluge, of a frenetic maelstrom, never breaks; a barrier of protection around your sanctuary of all that is everything to you; a buffer where one can safely stand laughing temerariously in the face of a dangerous, omnipresent heat. The fire line is what fire can't jump. Before I came to Kazakhstan, I was living my life behind the fire line.

The thing about my existence in the past two years that now seems so cataclysmically exceptional, has been a persistent, inexorably intertwined sense of connection to each and every passing moment in time. That is not to allude to the hackneyed pop culture expression of the "emotional roller coaster", or to lace my experience with an overly precious and melodramatic reminiscence of all that has impacted me, but rather to highlight a steadfast, resolute, overarching feeling of being shackled to a forced vulnerability- an assailable state that stems from being ubiquitously different from every single other person, of waking up with a gnawing uncertainty of how the day will unfold, of being tossed into a realm of absolute non-control, of the humbling realization of being utterly alone, of living within a stream of moments as they unfold such that no matter how you shake it down or turn it over in your mind, it is always raw. It is a connection to NOW that you cannot break.

Perhaps this is the crux of being abroad- right- of the salacious, intoxicating addiction that so many of us come to feed off of, to crave, to seek out; to feel everything all the time because you have to, because you can't run from being intimately exposed, because you can't hide from being the only person responsible for you, because you can't avoid being impacted by all things new- new sounds, new smells, new tastes, new worldviews, new tribulations, new heartaches. It's a reality that is both debilitating and empowering, a condition of being keyed in on, latched onto, swimming within, and pushed up against the full implication of emotion that comes now, and now, and now, and if you have ever been thrust outside of your comfort zone or forced to break boundaries you wished to maintain, then you know all too well the split second, heart-racing, pupil dilating, relentless connection to a series of moments that obfuscate everything else outside of you and it, whatever 'it' may be.

Kazakhstan has held no fire line for me, and to say that it even could have is a fabrication. The very nature of this life- of the status quo- of my job- of being precariously positioned within a system to change it from within- precludes any such protection. The fire contained here is Kandinsky unfettered, it's Escher in circles, it's Dostoyevsky between the lines, it's, it's, it's a multi-threaded, amplified, dynamic burning that is inescapable for me, and in its own way, it is a beautiful, reckless tumult that catalyzed a kind of openness to recognizing value in moments that before I wouldn't have internalized, and maybe not even felt at all.

And here is where I'm going risk a heaviness that may startle you because in a public forum I have never delved into the negative aspects of my life, but I feel like it's common sense enough to assume that things have been a mixed bag, for that's pretty standard no matter where you find yourself rolling the dice. The thing I've realized, and maybe even come to appreciate, is that when the fire line is removed (or unpredictably snatched away against your will), and dangling over the precipice of flames gives way to free falling like a sack of stones into the dancing firelight, there is a very telling moment of what kind of person you are to become, and this is poignantly true if the fire contains a kind of unimaginable heartache that swallows you whole.

What I mean to say is this- living in the fire can be imbued with a rapturous jubilation, where you are out on a limb, go all in, and find that you held a royal flush. You can reap the rewards of being exposed, of being caught in that connection, in all of the times when pride, confidence, excitement, success, love, acceptance, laughter, happiness, prosperity, contentment, serenity, and shameless delight come racing to the forefront of your emotional palate. You cash in big. You go home a winner. And this is huge, huge, and I have been so fortunate to share in that with people, both new and old, who have traipsed into my life.

But the part that I find new value in, and perhaps the part that was missing behind the fire line, and maybe even what many people forgo in order to maintain a sense of safety, predictability, and stability, is the earth-shattering, ineffable despondency that comes with being absolutely broken, that comes with being totally alone, that comes with being wrecked. It's in this other end of the spectrum that I have really profited, because a life with only the goods is a life with little perspective.

I think it's only when you lose it all, when you can't tell up from down, when you question everything you ever stood for or against, when you are racked with a kind of isolation and intense grief that has you on your shaking hands and knees, desperately clawing towards a better tomorrow on a tear-stained floor because you're too damn stubborn to languish in the dark and twisted fringes of insanity, can you ever reach a vantage point to truly accept happiness, to really hold onto the treasures of life, to really look back on that moment of sorrow and without capitulation see that you breathed it in, and I mean really breathed it in with every fiber of your broken being, and to finally, like shimmers of twinkling diamonds sprayed across the ocean around the place where the water meets the sky as the sun pops up dreary- eyed from the night's darkness, blanketed in vibrant yellows and pinks and oranges, do you emerge with the smiling minority who has tasted the indelible catharsis of breakdown.

And it's in the distance between these two points, of the winning big and of the losing big, that has brought new meaning, wisdom, and maturity to my life, and I question if I can ever again live secluded behind the fire line, or if I am now Pavlovian conditioned to seek that veritable connection that burns with the fiery passion of a thousand suns. No matter which side of that line I eventually find myself rooted to, I am positive that the time I have spent in Kazakhstan has made me realize that I have it 'all' (told you in the last post I would define that out for you), and that is the simple, hard-earned truth that I have, and always will have- myself, even when I have nothing else.

On July 4, 5, and 6, Kazakhstan celebrated The Day of The Capital, which also happens to be President Nazarbayev's birthday (if you read the document you will see that this is not a coincidence). Because of my attendance at the July 4 Independence Day activities at the American Embassy, in addition to other work obligations, I had the opportunity to spend pretty much all of last week in Astana as the city erupted in street parties, festivals, parades, and ceremonies.

As it is my MO to dwell in (an ever-growing sense of) nostalgia pre-big-impending-transitions, I allowed myself the chance to really exist in these encapsulated perfect moments in time, where the reality and memories of my adventure here met the realization of how much this place has changed me. I remember sitting in a sky bar with friends, overlooking the entire city of Astana, its twinkling lights and ultra-modern buildings providing a surreal backdrop to our conversation, and thinking that no matter how hard I try to put words around this experience; try to give it context for your understanding; try to break it down or build it up into something that is easily presented; nothing comes to the surface except superficial manifestations- actions, reactions, tales, failures, successes, memories- of an intrinsic feeling that is like a whispered secret between all the versions of me that have existed and formed and re-formed in my life here.

What I'm trying to say is this- I left the United States as one person, and I'm coming back another, and I will likely journey to the dark and dusty fringes of forever, trying to explain the difference therein. As high as the highs were, and as low as the lows were (sorry blogworld, I never afforded you a glimpse into that madness), I can say with absolute certainty standing here on the tail end of it all, that I got exactly what I wanted when I made the decision to graduate a year early and pursue this endeavor. I hope that in your life too, you find yourself in your own perfect moment in time, when you realize that you have it all**, and that you made out like a bandit in the life department.

**clarification on 'all' to come soon in another post.

On August 27, 2009 I wrote this post at the very beginning of my Peace Corps adventure. Sitting here now, I can still remember the idealism, optimism, energy, and confidence I had in my purpose for Kazakhstan, something which quickly turned out to be un-plannable, uncontrollable, and entirely different from how I imagined it (go fig, right?).

And I see that now. When I said I was "rhapsodizing about changing the world", I really had no conceptual basis for defining what that really meant or how I would go about creating said change. In the past 2 years, I have had many, many successes (and an equal amount of failures), but this one stands out to me today, and I wanted to share it with you.

One of the first changes I tried to instigate at Credo when I arrived in 2009, was the adoption of a monthly staff meeting, where the 3 branches of the organization could sit together and review past projects while planning for future ones. It was self-evident to me that miscommunication between stakeholders caused unnecessary inefficiency and deviation from any sort of strategic plan (which at that time didn't exist either). However, for a year and a half I was the only one who thought a regular staff meeting was useful, despite several attempts and demonstrations of how it could function within the office.

For the past 2 months, my coworkers have held office meetings entirely on their own accord, and have even been taking minutes. On top of that, for the past 3 months we have had a comprehensive work calendar on the wall that chronicles all of our tasks and obligations (another suggestion that was initially shot down), and the result of these two, very, very small alterations, is already visible on an organizational level.

I just wanted it to be known that I am equally as proud of the staff meetings as I am of the 6-figure European Commission grant on the development of health services in prisons. What hindsight tells me now, is that 2 years ago I had precious little appreciation for both ends of the change spectrum. That is, I wasn't looking for the basic, obvious, small solutions to fundamental problems because on a rhetorical level "changing the world" is presented as a grand gesture of epic proportions.

Hardly ever does someone "rhapsodize" about making a wall calendar. Perhaps development aid programs would be more effective if we did, though. But that's another topic for another day.

Remember this one? Ha! It's like a trip down memory lane!

(photo- Timertau, Abai, and Karaganda leaders with my director and our accountant at a monthly staff meeting).

The English language in Kazakhstan is a syntactical playground for the logophile in me. On a regular and recurring basis, I see things written in English that make it impossible for me to sidestep the seduction that is distillation of lexicon and diction. In rare display of my true nerd colors, I'm going to go out on a limb here and admit that I find dangling participles, missing implied antecedents, circular logic, and disheveled word order to be titillatingly obtuse and tantalizingly explorable.

Yea. I just said that. Though I may have polished-up the bravado and wit to run a good game in my adulthood, deep down I am still that chubby little kid in Umbro shorts and over-sized t-shirts that change colors in the sun, who sits in a tree and transcribes, looking through smudgy glasses, an inexhaustible list of favorite parts of the Encyclopedia Brittanica, to be categorized for personal use in a binder titled (in bubble letters) "Things to Always Understand". (Sidenote: Mom, it's childhood gems like that, which I expect you to recall when I, with Macallan and friends, decide to drunk dial you to reminisce about The America and how far my life has come over the years).

But back to the point. Read More.

Ziploc bags are perhaps the most useful item I have ever received in a package from America*. Not only do they safeguard against the possibility that my Axe bodywash (told you, wrap me in American Eagle and call me a frat boy) could explode en route, but they also serve a variety of purposes once they actually make it to my Central Asian paradise (oxymoron, anyone?).

Indeed, Ziploc bags are an astounding household item, and you too would appreciate their ubiquitous convenience if you suddenly woke up in a world devoid of the little Fresh Keeper dandies. Imagine not being able to properly shake your shake and bake chicken, or freeze anything that doesn't come out tasting like that little clump of freezer ice in the far back corner, or even to arise in the morning knowing that yes, you do have a perfectly sized baggy awaiting your kid's lunch-time PB&J. A world without Ziploc is a world with brown apples, wilty lettuce, and nothing to put your 100ml or less travel size shampoo and conditioner in when TSA insists that you cannot board the plane with your toiletries running around recklessly in your carry-on. The 1 quart Ziploc. is. essential. to. passenger. safety.

Basically, a world without Ziploc is Kazakhstan, because Ziploc doesn't exist here. Instead, we have a one-size fits all, no-close, plastic "packet" that is used for everything from left-overs, to small purchases, to buying fruits and veggies at the bazaar, to storage of random items. I say "packet" because that is its name in Russian, though to me, it is less of a "packet" and more of a weak plastic wannabe. I mean seriously, the Kazakh "packet" can barely hold air without blowing a hole, whereas Ziploc is tried and tested to hold the weight of my entire life and all of my expectations. And I have weighty expectations.

So, you can imagine my cup runnethed over with joy when I received the first batch of Ziploc bags from America. I was so excited, actually, that I gave all of my co-workers one to take home, feeling pretty good about myself for having spread modern conveniences to my Russians (after all, you can turn that sucker upside down and the seal won't break!). They all agreed that yes, these American "packets" were a thing to behold.

Two weeks later I received another package from America, with more Ziploc bags. Again my heart fluttered a little at the thought of all the berries I could safely freeze for enjoyment in the dead of winter, and, like the first time, I had no qualms about sharing my wealth of Ziplocs at the office. I mean, I had only given them one Ziploc, so it was high time to send the second one truckin' their way. As I started to doll them out, one of my co-workers was like, "What am I going to do with this?" to which I replied "Exactly what you did with the first one".

Pause.

"But I only need one- I can wash it and use it again and again". Yes, I said, you can wash it and use it again, but maybe you want to use the bag for another purpose while it is already being used. This way, you don't have to choose, I said.

"I don't think that's very likely, and I think one is enough and I am happy with the one I have".

I wasn't sure what else to say, so I acquiesced and smiled a little on the inside at the thought of only ever having one Ziploc bag. At the time, I was pretty fresh off the not-so-proverbial plane, and my understanding of local culture was limited. In hindsight, I look back on this interaction with complete clarity, for people here are extremely economical and tend to shy away from excess. I mean, globalization has brought a lot of choices to Kazakhstan that were not present 5 years ago (or even since 2009 when I arrived, if we are to be honest), and while people definitely appreciate the scope of options now set before them, most remain steadfastly rooted to old Soviet inclinations of "having every part count", which makes sense when you run it through the lens of collectivization and perestroika years. When you come from a place of having nothing that is truly yours, having one thing seems like enough.

To make a long story short, my Russians have never asked me for a second Ziploc bag, despite my efforts to give them out in various quantities and sizes. Should the powers of the global market ever bring Ziploc to Kazakhstan, I hope their market experts do their research- no need to package the product in quantities of 25 or more. A box of one will do just fine. That's just how Kazakhstan rolls.

Sidenote: If I am ever asked again in an interview, "If you could be any kitchen utensil, what would you be and why?", I am certain that I will answer "I would be a Ziploc bag, because when I was in Kazakhstan, it was the only thing that could keep the sheep's eyes/horse intestine that they gave me after the big guesting event from stinking up my entire house". Done and done, what's more hire-able than that :D

*Linda- don't get me wrong, your chocolate pooping cow from Easter '10 comes in at a close second...

Last week the power was off (more or less) for 4 days. Sporadic 1-2 hour returns every now and then made me celebrate prematurely, thinking that I wouldn't ACTUALLY have to clean out the fridge for lack of electricity, and only after the 5th time that I was thrown back into darkness did I realize that the universe was just teasing me for sport. Touche, universe, you old dog.

One-and-a-half years ago me would have needed a little time to be resigned to the fact of power failure and its accompanying distresses (including having nobody to call to B&M* to), but present-day me was really quite unaffected. This drastic change in my character may be hard for some of you to believe, but I'm here to tell you people, that after living in Central Asia for 2 years, nothing really surprises me. In fact, I'm probably a little warped when it comes to my threshold of inconvenience/ unforeseen circumstances/ expectations, in that even in America I will hope for the best, but sit down un-phased with some dried fruit if, in fact, the worst is what I get. I'm telling you, you can ride anything out if you have some dried figs, apricots, or cherries, nom nom nom.

In America, we might call this being "low-maintenance", or "chill", or even "easy-going", but in Kazakhstan it is much, much more than that. Being able to take things in stride is not just a personal characteristic endowed to a precious few Type B personalities, it is a cultural mantra on par with "time is money" for us Americans. Patience is tested so often in Kazakhstan that people are born with the notion that "everything is solvable", or "Bсе Pешаемо", and they say it without reservation, firmly believing that no matter what situation arises, it can, and will be decided at some point. And you know what, they're right; it always is decided one way or another.

Anywho, there I was with no power, sitting in my house alone on light-less night #2 when I heard a wildly butchered version of "Forever Young" coming from some dark corner of the courtyard in-between our building cluster. Usually, butchered American music doesn't grab my attention, but I'm a real sucker for Dylan, so I moseyed out to the balcony for a better assessment of its whereabouts, soon to determine that some local youths were playing around with their guitar, just as bored without electricity as I was.

Maybe it was them, maybe it was me, or maybe it was Memphis, but I got the notion to join them, so out I went into the cool night to make new friends. After 2 hours of talking about American rock and roll, my life in Kazakhstan, and the real words to "Forever Young", I gratefully bowed out and headed back to my apartment.

There are moments in Peace Corps when you realize that you are achieving exactly what you set out to achieve, and sometimes this is squarely rested on making yourself available for the opportunity to find you, instead of resisting to embrace the direction the fates are pushing you towards. I think "Bсе Pешаемо" epitomizes such an idea, and even though I had 2 more nights before the electricity issue was decided, I benefited on this night from the joys of spontaneity catalyzed by a lack of other distractions.

Admittedly, cleaning out the refridgerator should have been a distraction, which I came to realize after the 4 days was up, but alas, it seems as though I am not quite ready to part with my frat-house predilections :D

*bitch and moan

At COS conference this past week in Almaty, one of our sessions dealt with "reverse culture shock". I know it may be hard for you in America to believe that another American could ever be "shocked" when returning to the homeland, but alas, it is fairly common for those living in developing countries for extended periods of time. Just like it is shocking to transition from America, to say, Kazakhstan, it can also be shocking to return to the materialism, capitalism, democracy, individualism, culture, expectations, and realities of an old life that hasn't been part of a daily routine for 2 years. More than that, though, it can be shocking to return to family and friends who cannot possibly fathom the Peace Corps experience, and who have not lived the kind of high-pressure-catalyst of a lifestyle that engenders the kind of personal character development that so many PCVs have experienced. Will you even know me anymore, America? Will I know you? Or will we be more like old exes who maintain that sense of deep familiarity of the past but, for having drifted apart our separate ways over time, cannot possibly imagine that same relationship working out in the present?

Drama drama drama.

Meh. Throw me a Dos Equis with lime and salt and let me wear my baseball cap in public and I think I'll be fine and dandy like a hard-candy Christmas. But that's just me :D

Common Culture Shock Moments for PCVs

I told you I would be back to the blog like a month ago, and then I stood you up. I'm a horrible, horrible, horrible correspondent and I hope you will forgive me of my absence. I have 58 days left as a PCV and so many things yet to tell you. So, as an effort to get back in your good graces, I have a special treat for you today- "Texts from Kazakhstan".

Some of you may be familiar with the site "Texts from Last Night", where people upload their funniest/most inappropriate texts to the internet, and anonymously bask in the shame (or is it pride?) that comes with the kind of dalliances best expressed by 120 characters or less. At our recent COS (close of service) conference in Almaty, a PCV created a presentation of only texts sent/received while in Kazakhstan. I was inspired. And I braved my own text history (sitenote, how does my little Russian phone have enough memory space to store every text message since I got here? wtf) and came up with some of the following, which I have added to the original presentation. I hope you enjoy it as a foray into the daily life of a PCV in Kazakhstan, wink wink.

(414) "Man, someday I'd like to wake up and see something besides steely gray..."

***************

(590) "If decrease means reduce and increase means multiply, why doesn't 'crease' mean maintain the status quo? eg the number of times baby pooed on my floor creased this week..."

***************

(175) "Do you think at a certain point the boredom elevates us to a zenlike state in which we finally feel freed from the insidious drive to seek stimulation?"

***************

(367) "On my way to integration. Had orange poop, then made the mayor laugh. How's your site?"

***************

(788) "I vomited out the window of the taxi after being force fed too many shots at our office birthday party. Then I toasted to Kazakhstan in Kazakh and the cabby nearly pulled over to buy us more vodka."

(r-788) "My host sister had the runs on the ground next to the outhouse because I was having the runs inside the outhouse and refused to open the door to let her in. We walked back to the house together in a knowing silence.

(rr-788) "Tie".

***************

(938) "The Peace Corps driver from last night is totally a do or date...he stopped the van so I could get a Snickers <3"

***************

(145) "My 60 year-old director just walked in wearing a see-through mesh shirt and I totally checked her out, thought yea, I need a shirt like that..."

***************

(004) "The people here are stoked to get another volunteer. Prepare to become a rock star".

***************

(399) "OMG my host sister is so cute. Its so exciting to be a baby! We're playing smack the wallpaper and she's freaking out with happiness".

***************

(566) "There's still cognac in our classroom, but I can't find chalk".

***************

(714) "When I got home, I threw up with that cow staring at me and then a dog ate it. Gross x 3 billion".

***************

(690) "They missed the hole AGAIN. You'd think they've been doing this long enough..."

**************

(547) "Music driving me fing crazy. F*ck! F*ck! F*ck I would eat an entire mutton to make it stop".

**************

(111) "I was on the bus back to site when it fell over in the snowbank. Fell. The. Eff. Over. We all climbed out the window and sat on the side of the road for 5 hours to wait for another bus. At least a babushka gave me fried bread".

***************

(629) "I just shat myself in public. Again".

(r-629) "Are you at least going to wash the clothes this time, or just leave them in a random trash bin?"

(rr-629) "Undecided".

***************

(204) "I was on the train when the conductor told me I had to pay a fine for some kind of crap or another. I told him I had no money because I spent it all on melons. He said 'fine, I'll take the melons'. I hope he doesn't wash them and comes down with an epic case of intestinal blowout".

***************

(489) "My counterpart just texted me and said 'Hey I can't come. I was in Zhanar'. God I love this country".

**************

(190) "I figured the KNB had bugged my house anyway, so I decided one night to only speak Russian just to make it easier for them".

(r-190) "What did you even talk about?"

(rr-190) "Oh, you know. The usual. My free time. My family. How much I love Kazakhstan. I rocked that novice high in PST, and you know what, I still got it".

**************

(835) "Host family says we're eating boiled horse intestine and jellied meat fat AGAIN. I need to move."

**************

(450) "I went number 2 in a ziploc baggy my mom sent from America because it was too cold to walk to the outhouse. Then I put it on the balcony so it wouldn't stink up the house. Please txt me in the morn 2 rmind me 2 get it, k?"

*************

(339) "I taught my director "I'll be back" in English just to see if the accent was like Arnold. It is. Oh the little things".

**************

(720) "Was just at train station and heard angry Kazakh lady screaming at ticket seller to change the damn ticket because she didn't mean to buy it for that day or to that city. God. Glad it's not only me who does that".

***************

(444) "At grammar club and need another English idiom. Pls txt asap."

(r-444) "Bob's your Uncle. How's that?"

(rr-444) "That'll do pig. That'll do."

(rrr-444) "Do you even know what it means?"

(rrrr-444) "No, does anyone?"

**************

(807) "Just realized that in Russian 'preservative' means 'condom', not a chemical substance put in food to make it last longer. Fcking cognates. I just told my whole class that in America, we put condoms in all our food."

(r-807) "I mean. At Taco Bell that's probably true."

(rr-807) "I'd take the condomo taco grando supremo anyday over the fried dog I'm sure is in my camsa at school".

(rrr-807) "Touche".

*************

(229) "Oy bi. Bleen. Mama rodnaya. Kashmar. Oozhas. Boje moi. Chort. Yolky palky. FML."

(r-229) "Family dog snagged your underwear off the line again?"

(rr-229) "Yea. And it was the last pair."

*************

(304) "Just let one rip on the most crowded marshrutka on the planet. Woman tried 2 open window but babushka said no. Everyone loses, but at least none of us will catch cold :D"

I know it has been ages since I last wrote on the blog, and I hope you will forgive me of my absence because I have been so busy working on 4 grants that I want to finish before I leave Kazakhstan in August (boy how time flies, right?). Today I am heading to Almaty for the big "Insights into Development" conference that I have been planning with partners since last fall. When I return next week, I promise more thorough information on my comings and goings :) For now, though, I wanted to let you know that Karaganda received 4 new volunteers from the KAZ 23 group who arrived in March. We met them at the train station with signs and smiles (no doubt embarrassing them like whoa) and we are SO excited to welcome them to our little family. Not only are they fresh off the blocks with all kinds of energy and ideas, but they are talented to boot! I know they will have a great 2 years here, but I'm kind of sad that it's already time for "out with the old, and in with the new!" Till next week...

One of my favorite ways to tease the Russians is about the Space Race, chuckle chuckle.

If you recall, the Space Race was a mid-to-late 20th century competition between the Soviet Union and the United States for supremacy in outer space exploration. Between 1957 and 1975, the Space Race was a particularly poignant factor in the national consciences of both nations, because superiority in space was tied to national security (aka satellite spying) and technological/ideological aspirations.

The major headliners from the Cold War era (and also the primary topics of today's Cold War history classes being taught in Universities) are centered on the spy paranoia, financing of spin-off conflicts in developing countries, and cementing of the military industrial complex into our economy/foreign policy. The Space Race hardly ever gets the attention it deserves, especially when you take into account the positive scientific advancements for the global community that were engendered from investment in education and pure research about our planet.

Perhaps we tend to brush the Space Race under the rug because...we...lost...it. Russian cosmonaut, Yuri Gagarin, was the first man in space, launched from none other than the territory of what is now Kazakhstan. Probably like many of you out there, I had never heard of Yuri Gagarin before (something that is more than just a simple faux pas in the presence of Russians), and I certainly did not know that he was the first man in Space. However, for Kazakhstan, Gagarin is somewhat of a national icon; a man whose name is to the Russians what MLK is to Americans. Not only is Gagarin's name on monuments, squares, streets, and buildings, it is also a national holiday, which we celebrated here in Karaganda on April 12, at Gagarin's Square, not far from our office.

As my co-workers and I set off on foot for Karaganda's 50th Anniversary of Gagarin's space flight (photos below), we hashed out a bit of Cold War rivalry that thrives only in good humor. You see, for them, the Russian victory of the Space Race is unforgettable.

"Gagarin was the first in space, and all of the Soviet Union cheered on the day we won the race", they say.

I can only laugh a little, because I am a product of the Hollywood Apollo depiction of events, where the only thing that matters in American history is that America won the race to the moon.

"Sure, Gagarin was the first man in Space", I concede, "But he didn't do anything. It's like sending your husband to the store for milk and he comes back with nothing". If it wasn't for my playful smile they would be highly offended, and even though they put up a good protest amid their Russian tizzy about how he "almost" went to the moon, I can only say with the American certainty of one small step for man and one giant step for mankind, that,

Almost doesn't count. Get's them every time, wink wink.

I thought this was interesting, and just wanted to share :)

The 2011 Insights Into Development conference that I am planning with partners in Almaty is off and running. This past week, we released the conference announcement, invitation, program, and accompanying registration documents. The project is live!, you might say. So far, we have received 5 applications to participate in the conference, and I am busy reaching out to donor representatives and potential trainers to attend the event which takes place on May 22-24 in Almaty.

As I've mentioned before, this project is being funded by a grant that I wrote to the Royal Norwegian Embassy back in October. The conference is only one part of the project, where 50 NGO representatives, 15 donor representatives, 10 journalists, and 10 professors from KIMEP (an English-speaking Kazakh University) will come together to exchange knowledge and skills, share perspectives about development initiatives in the country, and work together to achieve a mutually beneficial set of expectations and feedback mechanisms for the future. The deadline to participate in the conference is 24:00 on April 27, and I expect that we will receive several hundred applications due to our ability to provide financial reimbursement for travel, as well as the unique stance that the conference takes in trying to establish more successful frameworks of interaction between all relevant stakeholders in this game called development of civil society.

If you want to read a copy of the 2011 Conference Materials/Goals/Program, please go to www.insights-into-development.com find English language materials on the left-hand side of the screen.

The second part of the project is the publication of NGO stories/opinions/successes/challenges/expectations in a nationally-distributed bilingual book. The book will be authored by NGOs themselves, who, in their own words, will submit essays on one of 4 themes we have chosen in order to guide potential authors. The goal is to have 50 different stories that cut across a multitude of social areas, so that the work of civil society organizations can be promoted within a larger audience than at the present time. Personally, I am already very excited for the kinds of essays I know we will receive.

So that's what's going on there. Trucking along as always, and proud of myself for helping to develop a national forum and national event that has already received great praise and support from many partners. It's so rewarding to see the idea I cultivated from a simple conversation over tea with my coworkers over a year ago, come to fruition on such a grand stage.

So here it is, people, the TOP FIVE of my FAVORITE CULTURAL TIDBITS in Kazakhstan! I hope you have enjoyed reading the countdown as much as I have enjoying writing it (feel free to speak to that effect in a comment...winkwink). If you are interested in a re-cap, I have hyperlinked the previous editions at the bottom of this post. Hearts and stars!

#5- People are Blunt:

For those of you who do not intimately know me, I must confess that I am blessed?/cursed? with a straightforward demeanor. I don't like my edges rounded off. I don't like my language watered down. In fact, this was one of the things I was hoping Kazakhstan could reign-in for me (diplomacy, anyone?), but little did I know...

that the people of Kazakhstan are even worse than I am! It's true. The lack of tact here greatly surpasses my own deficit, and if we were to quantify the exact amount of tact lacking (in terms of beats around a bush), we would find that negative beats exist in Kazakhstan. There isn't even a bush to beat around. People here are to.the.point. about the fact that you look fat today, or that you're an idiot because you can't sew, or that you have more chin hairs than their son. I've found that even the topic of marriage isn't personal enough to warrant a smidgeling's worth of sensitivity. Verbatim, I will now re-construct a conversation I had with a total stranger.

Stranger: Are you married?

Me: No, I am not.

Stranger: Why not? Do you have a disease?

Me: No, in my culture, 23 is still young to be married.

Stranger: So when will you get married?

Me: I'm not sure. Maybe a few more years.

Stranger: Men will still want to have sex with you then?

Me: Perhaps. I don't think it will be a problem.

Stranger: Not a problem? Do you not like sex? (clearly, he thought I meant that the obvious lack of sex coming my way would not be a problem, when I actually meant that finding someone to have sex with me will not be a problem, shame on my lack of specificity).

Me: ...silence...

And the greater the number of years separating you and your inquisitor, the worse the inquisition will be. The average age of my co-workers, for example, is more than twice my own. So, when they tell me that I have too many grey hairs, I barely have enough time to agree with them before their hands are reaching for example strands with which to prove to me it is time to splurge for the hair dye(s). Thanks, Russians. I was going for the silver fox look, duh (truth be told, I have since dyed my hair).

#4- Communalism:

Kazakh and Russian cultures are very community-oriented. Both nomadic Kazakh traditions and USSR-era social/economic norms prioritize the "collective unit" above the "individual interest". No man is an island, and no man here would even think of trying to be an island, separate from the mainland (unlike in America, where we all seem to want to be little islands with our own ARM'd mansions and neighborly conflicts because someone's shrubbery is over the property line and another person's rat terrier dropped a turd on our manicured lawn).

Families stick together, physically and emotionally. Sons and daughters always live with their parents, and when a girl marries, she functionally marries an entirely new family in addition to her own. Your family's money problems are yours, so much so that if a 3rd cousin removed comes knocking for cash for his wedding, you are obligated to throw in.

Community means more than geography. Community is when the babushkas sit down at the apartment block courtyard playground and attend to all the youngins that aren't even their own. It's when my director gives 20,000 KZT to another co-worker to help that co-worker pay for school for her kids, and it's echoed when she tells the rest of the office that we need to help the ones fallen on hard times. You can go to your neighbors and ask to borrow some eggs and they'll likely throw in flour/sugar/tea just because.

The idea of communalism, and its accompanying social expectations, has been one of the hardest things for my only-child syndrome to adapt to. At the same time, I think it will be one of the things I take home with me, at least in part, and hold onto for the rest of my life.

#3- Critical Thinking:

I once did a small thought experiment with my co-workers, in which they had to compare two scenarios and decide which of them was best in various categories including efficiency, effectiveness, ease of management, etc. Without fault, they all went for their immediate reaction and chose according to long-standing cultural influences. There was no examining the criteria or thinking outside of the box. There was no grey area. There was just their answer and across the board they chose the same scenario.

You may wonder why this one earns a #3 on my countdown, and I'll tell you why: there is a pervasive lack of critical thinking in Kazakhstan, all the way from school-age children to accomplished doctors. There is the way of doing things, and there is what a superior said to do, and beyond that, most people are wearing blinders to alternative solutions/plans/outcomes/justifications and so on. Without a doubt, the students of Kazakhstan can whip our tail in math, science, and memorization (seriously they have to memorize so much stuff), but ask them to write a free response and they are totally lost (as soon as their memory of the textbook runs dry, that is).

The inability to think critically was something that I first encountered when I came to Karaganda and began my debate club. The participants in the club were horrible at debating (not because they were stupid, oh no no no kids here are INFORMED), but because they had zero precedent of using information from different vantage points. None of them questioned the logic behind any argument, and none of them were comfortable arguing two sides of the same coin. In the past year and a half, they have progressed so incredibly much, and I think the opportunity to think critically is really why they come (because it's definitely not English practice since most of the club is in Russian now). So, it gets #3.

#2- Inconvenience:

When I lived with a Russian family, my host sister would frequently point things out to me (such as the water pipe that burst in the quad and turned the courtyard into a skating rink) as "The Russian Reality". We'd be driving along and see 40 people squished into a tiny van and she'd say out of nowhere "The Russian Reality" (in a Russian accent). It was funny then.

At that time I had little basis with which to understand the true depths of "The Russian Reality" when it comes to inconvenience. Inconvenience in Kazakhstan is normal, even expected, and the general reaction to it is a "shit happens" kind of stance. In fact, people in Kazakhstan have such a high tolerance for "The Russian Reality" that they don't even complain when, for example, the transmission of the mini-bus falls out in the middle of the ride and they have to walk in -40 and wind to the next nearest bus stop. They simply take their fare back from the driver and walk away in their furs and heels.

Or, and this one is even better, people are not outraged when the electricity is turned off to the entire block for 2 days because a transmitter blew up and the replacement parts have to come from another city. This is life.

Similarly, when a commuter bus going from Karaganda to Balhash pulls over to let someone off, and ends up collapsing the snow bank on the shoulder, nobody is alarmed when the bus slowly falls over, FALLS THE EFF OVER, into the ditch instead of resuming its previous course. Nope, they just crawl out of the driver-side door one by one and squat for 5 hours on the side of the road until a replacement bus arrives to carry them the rest of the way. This is a true story. I know this because my friend was on this bus, and was, of course, the only passenger justifiably outraged by the preposterous nature of this inconvenience.

It could be anything really, and the good people of Kazakhstan are all like "Ain't no thang", and I guess this makes sense when most of them lived through the collapse of their entire government. A tolerance for "The Russian Reality" is, like communalism, something that will affect me the rest of my life.

#1- Gosti:

Gosti, or the act of going guesting at someone's house, is a very, very big part of the culture here. In Kazakhstan, the guest is king, and hosts pull out all the stops to provide good food, drink, treats, and atmosphere for their guests. Gosti is such a big deal, actually, that people frequently gosti to other cities in Kazakhstan (planned or unplanned) and drop-in as guests for several days in someone else's house.

Because I am American, I am frequently on the receiving end of a gosti invitation. People here act like it is such a huge honor to have an American guest in their house, eating their food and toasting to the prosperity of their family and country. And I don't intend to demean that honor, for it is real to them, but I always leave a gosti feeling like I am the one who had the truly memorable experience. The generosity and family welcoming at gosti is overwhelming in a way that our American dinner parties just don't quite encompass.

But the best part about gosti, and the reason it makes #1 on my list, is that it is normal to meet a stranger on the train and ask them to go gosti at their place (provided you hit it off, of course). In this vein, tons of people have asked me if they can gosti at my house in America, like it was a simple train ride away from Kazakhstan. And I always say yes! (sorry Mom). It would be weird if I said no, especially after they have prodded me with tea and fried foods for 18 hours.

Thus, gosti makes #1 because I am sure, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that if any of these people ever DO make it to America, even 5 years from now, they will find a way to contact me. And they will come to my house. And I will feed them tea and fried foods. And it will be like I never left Kazakhstan, and all of my memories from this adventure will come swelling back in a wave of nostalgia. Beyond a shadow of a doubt, of this I am sure.

For past countdowns, please click:

#50-#46, #45-#41, #40-#36, #35-#31, #30-#26, #25-#21, #20-#16, #15-#11, #10-#6

Oh New York Times, if you only knew everything you didn't know.

#10- Nobody Likes Bush:

If you thought that President Bush's approval ratings were low when he was in office, you should come talk to a random person on the street in Kazakhstan. Any person will do really; they all say the same thing. The widespread and intense disapproval of Bush is, funny enough, my ace in the hole when it comes to reviving waning small talk in a taxi or on the train. All it takes is a "So, what do you think about Bush" and they're off and running for a good 20 minutes about this or that reason for their distrust and hatred of Bush 2 (Bush 1 is considered an alright guy in comparison), and all I have to do is insert an obligatory "mmhmm" here and there.

Sometimes, the question is posed in reverse, and people ask ME what I think about Bush. In this situation, my actual feelings about Bush are irrelevant (and I'm pretty sure most other PCVs handle this question in a similar way) because the correct answer is always, always, always "Bush?" "Phooey" "I never liked him and he makes me embarrassed to be an American".

And ta-da! Almost instantly I go from being an outsider to an insider; suddenly the taxi driver is a lot friendlier, or if on the train, the fried bread products and chai start flowing my way. Oh the things we do for integration, wink wink.

#9- Working Hard for the Money:

A lot of people in Kazakhstan look at America as the pinnacle of economic success, where "the good life" is not something to aspire to in the future, it is a daily reality in the present, an unending and unimpeded stream of sweet, sweet nectar dripping from the tree of life in the garden of your everlasting dreams.

Gag. We have 40 million people living in poverty and China owns our soul.

Resume post. America is so resolutely posed on the pedestal of financial achievement, that a lot of people tape fake American dollars to their wall, the inside of their car, the dash of the bus, the front cover of their school notebook, and so on and so forth. I had a good conversation with a taxi driver once, who had a $1million bill taped on the dash, and he told me that he acquired the bill as a constant reminder of his life's purpose: " to make the good money", as he put it. He said that the bill was good luck because American money is by far the luckiest currency. It just so happened that I had a $2 bill in my wallet because my friend Laura had given it to me on a whim when she visited us for New Years, and I pulled it out and showed it to him. I explained that we don't use $2 bills anymore and that the government stopped printing them many years ago. I said "to have a $2 bill really IS lucky, even for Americans". I wanted to give it to him, but then he asked me, "So how much is it in tenge?"- to which I had to respond that it was about the cost of the taxi ride.

Needless to say he didn't want my lucky $2 bill, haha, because two dollars after all, is not "the good money".

#8- National Dishes:

One of the first things I learned about Kazakhstan when I arrived in August 2009 is that "Bishbarmak" is the "national dish". Bishbarmark, meaning "5 fingers" in Kazakh (because in the old days you were supposed to eat it with your fingers), is a noodle and horsemeat dish that is often served in Kazakh families, and always served on national holidays. When I lived with a Kazakh family during my first 3 months in-country, we ate Bishbarmak 3 out of the 7 days of the week. They were absolutely tickled that an American was eating the national dish of Kazakhstan.

The idea of a "national dish" is so ingrained here because the Soviet Union transported many people of different nationalities to live and work in settlements aimed at providing resources to Moscow. Uzbeks, Tajiks, Armenians, Koreans, Chechens, Tatars, Uigors, Estonians, Lithuanians, and so on and so forth, ended up in places like Karaganda once upon a time (and some of them stayed). In and effort to preserve their own traditions and heritage, they branded certain dishes "theirs", as the "national dish" of such and such place.

To this day, everyone talks about local foods in terms of "national dishes", and whenever I'm at a cafe with locals, they make sure to point out which dish is from which nationality. It's such a point of conversation that the question "What is the national dish of America" always makes the top 5 most frequently asked questions, to which I have responded with "Tacos" (no, that's not quite right), "Hamburgers" (makes us all look like fatties), "Pizza" (wait, they already know that's Italian), "Apple pie" (which is not considered a 'dish' but a 'desert'), and so on.

I really don't have an answer to the "What is America's national dish" question, and people here simply do not comprehend how this is possible. But we don't have one! We are, gasp, a nation without a national dish.

#7- Billboards:

Before coming to Kazakhstan, I had never heard of "Kazakhstan 2030", which is the all-important, omnipresent set of strategic, economic, diplomatic, and development goals that are destined to be achieved by 2030, so that Kazakhstan can be in the top 50 most developed countries in the world. Most people in Kazakhstan have no idea what the "Kazakhstan 2030" policy actually includes, but everyone and their mom knows that it exists. Why? Because "Kazakhstan 2030" is written on more billboards and buildings than you can shake a stick at. Seriously, the amount of government-commissioned advertising is astounding, and makes me wonder if we also have government-related billboards in America and I just failed to notice them. Here, though, I notice them all the time, and Nazarbayev's beautiful smiling face has greeted me on almost every street in every city I have been in in Kazakhstan.

#6- Nothing is What it Seems:

This particular item is a double-edged sword for me. On the one hand, it humors me to no end, and keeps me on my toes with the locals. Gotta love a good challenge. On the other hand, it exhausts my patience and reminds me that my "confrontational Russian voice" is not nearly as intimidating as I'd like it to be, haha. With that, I should explain exactly what I'm talking about.

In Kazakhstan, nothing is what it seems because everyone has different information about the same thing, OR, the information can change depending on how you word a given question. For example, when Tess and I were in Balhash, I went to the bus station to buy tickets to come back to Karaganda. I went up to the window and had the following conversation:

Me: "I'd like to buy 2 tickets to Karaganda for tomorrow".

Lady: "There are no tickets".

Me: "There are no tickets tomorrow?"

Lady: "No, there are no seats to Karaganda".

Me: "There are no seats on the afternoon bus to Karaganda?"

Lady: "No, no seats".

Me: "So I cannot go to Karaganda?"

Lady: "No, no seats."

Stop. If this was in America, everyone behind me would know that I'm a douche who has a hearing problem and they'd likely tell me to stop hassling the poor window lady and to plan my travels a bit better. But in Kazakhstan, this is just the opening act of a long, drawn out interaction that often continues as follows:

Me: "What about in the morning, are there seats in the morning?"

Lady: "There might be seats in the morning."

Me: "OK, so there are tickets to Karaganda tomorrow in the morning?"

Lady: "No, but there might be a spare bus because of the holidays".

Me: "OK, so can I go to Karaganda in the morning?"

Lady: "Yes, god willing ,you can go".

Me: "OK so how do I buy a ticket?"

Lady: "You can buy a ticket here".

Me: "But you said there were no tickets".

Lady: "There are tickets for the extra bus only".

Me: "Ah yes, I see. Well I want 2 tickets."

Lady: "To go to Karaganda tomorrow morning?"

Me: "Yes, that's right. Sitting together, please".

Lady: "OK".

Perhaps it's one of those "you had to be there moments" and you can't quite fathom the humor in the situation, but it is all too common here that when someone tells you one thing, like "there are no tickets tomorrow", what they really mean is the exact opposite, provided you ask the right questions. Nothing, I repeat, nothing, is what it seems. Not at the post office, not at the train station, not at the airport, not at a cafe, not at a hotel, NOWHERE. In order to get a good feel for a situation, I've found that triangulating between 3 different locals is most efficient. However, in the Balhash bus situation, there was only one cashier lady, so I couldn't go to another one and ask about tickets for the following day. Lucky for me, I'm one of those hardened, weathered, senior PCVs who knows not to take anything at face value, chuckle chuckle. As I said, it's a double-edged sword this one, but we got on the bus the next morning.

Last week, Kazakhstan celebrated the 3-day national holiday called Nauryz. Put simply, Nauryz is a conglomeration of festivities that mark the coming of Spring and the beginning of the cycle of farming and animal husbandry that nomadic tribes relied on, long before the days of imported foods from Pakistan and China (also before the days of Russian influence and Soviet infrastructure development). As you may know, Kazakhstan has extreme snow, ice, and wind for half of the year, during which families eat pickled goods, preserves, and dried fruits that they prepared during the summer months. Families in the village slaughter a cow or sheep before the winter and freeze the meat outside in order to use it until the following Spring.

The disappearance of snow and the reemergence of the sun is sometimes described as the "Kazakh New Year", celebrated on the Spring equinox of every year, aka Nauryz. Spring, you might say, is a pretty big deal for people who can only grow frostbitten potatoes for 6 months of the year.

Nauryz has deep historical roots in this part of the world, and is celebrated not only in Kazakhstan, but in other Central Asian countries as well. For Kazakhstan in particular, though, Nauryz is the most Kazakh-oriented holiday out of the year, where old Kazakh culture is put on full display in honor of Spring.

Thus, to celebrate Nauryz in style, and to get out of the city a little bit, Tess and I took a 5 hour bus down to a Kazakh town called Balhash, where my friend Samantha is a PCV. I had never been to Balhash before, despite it being one of the closest locations to Karaganda (how 'bout them apples, puts a new meaning to "are we there yet?"), and despite it being one of the 3 "tourist destinations" in Kazakhstan. Balhash, it seems, is known for its lake, fishing, and "beautiful beach" where many Karagandians vacation during the summer. In fact, of all the cities in Kazakhstan that made it onto my world map that I bought at Barnes and Noble before I left, Balhash is one of them. Go figure.

We stayed with Sam and readied ourselves to do all things Kazakh (read: eat friend foods, sit on the floor, drink fermented mare's milk, toast to the prosperity of Kazakhstan, watch traditional dances, listen to dombra music, go guesting in yurts, etc) for the Nauryz celebration that was set-up on the main drag of town, very near to Sam's apartment.

The most memorable parts of my 2 Nauryz holidays in Kazakhstan (last year I was in Shymkent, the epicenter of Kazakh culture, they say) are the yurts (old-school nomadic steppe dwellings), abundance of free food, and most of all, the traditional dancing/costumes.

#15- Star Babies:

The only thing that gets Kazakh people in a bigger tizzy than self-protection from the cold, Siberian drafts of winter, is the protection of children from the cold, Siberian drafts of winter. I've determined that wrapping children in the proper amount of clothing is not only a tedious, multi-step chore, but it is also an art form. Usually, children are wearing 5 different layers, along with a scarf tied on the inside of the outer jacket, and a scarf tied on the outside of the outer jacket. As you well know, breathing in cold air will make you sick. Constant vigilance!

In Kazakhstan, children end up being wrapped so tightly that their arms and legs stick out straight and they form (what we in Peace Corps have come to call) a "star baby". The following photos depict varying levels of "star babyness", and you may notice in one of them that the child's feet are missing. This is also common- that the kid is fully dressed and then slid into a protective baby bag suit so no drafts can crawl their way up a loose ankle space.

You would think "Wow, the people of Kazakhstan are pros at keeping a child warm". And you'd be right. But what you don't know is that "star babies" start coming out on the street in SEPTEMBER, well before it drops below freezing, and they remain wrapped as such until May or June. You see these poor kids with a flushed face and you just know it isn't the cold that has brought rosiness to the cheeks, it is heat exhaustion.

#14- Straws:

Kazakhstan has several peculiarities when it comes to beverages. First, ice is never served with a beverage because (like breathing in cold air), sipping on an ice-cold drink will make you sick (read: Coca Cola, take your cutesy, winter, baby polar bear, ice-cold beverage ads somewhere else, Kstan isn't buying it). Second, beverages are sexist.

In Kazakhstan, women are always, always, always served a beverage with a straw. It does not matter the beverage in question, there will be a straw. At first I found this to be rather fantastic, for it meant I did not have to touch the glass when drinking my beverage of choice. But then, as I decided to test out the local brew, I found it highly annoying and embarrassing to be served a (lukewarm, never cold enough) beer WITH A STRAW. That's right. In a bottle, in a pint glass, in a liter glass, and in any other kind of glass you could pour a beer into--there is also a straw, floating around with my hops and barley like a party pooper who came to ruin my buzz. Call me old-fashioned, or just call me American, but my beer should never be served with anything but a lemon for my wheats, and a lime and salt for my Mexican lovelies. It goes without saying that you just pop the top on the dark and dirties and slide 'em down the bar.

A straw? Really? What are you doing with yourself, Kazakhstan.

#13- Packets:

Kazakhstan cracks me up sometimes, and I don't know how to explain this one to you other than like this: in Kazakhstan, everyone is very stylish and put together. Appearances are everything, and everyone goes through great lengths to look a certain way. Men almost always wear suits on the street, or at least black slacks with leather loafers, and women look as though they spent 2 hours getting ready. Because they did.

Amid this stylin' culture is something that we, in America, would consider to be the antithesis of fashion: the plastic baggy. For us, the plastic baggy helps transport our groceries from the store to the pantry, serves as a garbage bag for those mini-waste baskets that are sometimes in bathrooms, or, in the case of my family, are turned into bubble-wrap/peanut substitutes, used for padding items in a care package destined for Kazakhstan. If our plastic baggies are not dutifully serving us in these ways, they are floating around in the Ocean killing fish, or overflowing from one of those pantry plastic baggy organizer things.

In Kazakhstan, plastic baggies are called "packets" (emphases on packETs, not pACkets) and in addition to all of the common usages of plastic baggies, they are also an acceptable handbag. It's true. Packets are used as a tote bag, and men, women, children, grandmas and everyone else in-between lug their belongings around in these plastic bags, which are constantly re-used. And it's so funny because of the standard of appearances which must always be maintained! Imagine being decked out in your best work attire, accessories, and makeup, and then carrying around a plastic Dillard's bag (sometimes in addition to your real purse, sometimes not).

And don't worry, should your packet break on the street, you can always buy a new one an assortment of kiosks. Everyone sells them. Everyone. Why? Because everyone uses them. Including me.

#12- Man Purses:

As much as a man in Kazakhstan is a true man's man, there are a couple of cultural tidbits that sometimes stick out to me. First, men are not afraid to be affectionate with each other in this culture, and can be seen with their arms around each other, speaking very closely face to face, or otherwise sharing the same personal space bubble. Second, men carry man purses, or for our purposes here, murses.

I had never really seen a murse in America, though I would not be surprised if they have become common during my absence, since apparently men are now wearing skinny jeans and sporting the Justin Bieber hair flip. But here I digress. Anyway, murses were a new thing for me when I arrived to Kazakhstan, and just like the packet, they can be seen quite frequently. The contents of murses, usually a small leather bag with a skinny leather strap, hanging diagonally across the body, are a mystery to me. I mean I don't see why women need to carry a purse, so I certainly don't see why men would have any quantity of personal belongings that exceed one's pocket space. But to each their own, I guess. Maybe it's European, chuckle chuckle.

#11- Say Hi!

Though the local culture is not big on "please" and "thank you", there is definitely a sense of social etiquette/politeness when it comes to entering or leaving a room. Upon entering a room, you should always, always, always greet every single person. And I don't just mean a general "good morning" under your breath, I mean a concentrated effort to say hello to each and every individual in the room (though sometimes you can get away with a "hello everybody here" sentence, if you put emphasis on the "everybody", but this should be used sparingly lest they think you're unwilling to greet people).

However, if you're a man, there is no bending the social expectation, because men must take it a step farther and shake hands with EVERY other man in the room. It's true. Imagine going to your office and instead of doling out the morning head nods on your walk to your desk, you have to stop and shake hands with every other male. Even the ones outside of your direct path. Even the ones you don't even know. And every man who comes in after you must do the same thing.

If you're a woman, you get no hand-shake, but if you think in terms of germs and not feminism, this is a desirable thing.

The same holds true for leaving a room- if you do not say good-bye to everyone (men, get ready for round 2 of shaking) then you have made a grave cultural misstep. You might be sitting there at home thinking "Oh it can't really be that stringent", and you're WRONG. Peace Corps Volunteers don't take this seriously at first, and on numerous occasions, Peace Corps staff has had to intervene in a cultural misunderstanding because host organizations think that Americans are rude. Truth.

***Please see my disclaimer on the top right corner.

Yea. You. I see you. And I think you should print and submit a 50th Anniversary sign from www.pc50.kz right this second because I only received 2 photos so far, even though Google Analytics tells me that over 15 people viewed my blog yesterday. Sla-ckers. Guiltguiltguilt. I know who you are, and I'm holding the next Cultural Countdown hostage until I get at least 2 more signs...how 'bout them apples? And you don't even know how much my Nana loves that countdown so please make a sign and send it to me on her behalf? Ready. Go.

Get Your Sign Here

The 50th Anniversary of Peace Corps is shaping up to be a big deal here in Kazakhstan, thanks to the organizational leg-work of our 50th Anniversary committee and the support of our staff here in country. Washington has allocated around $10,000 to fund national-level activities, Oblast-level activities, and promotional items to spread awareness about Peace Corps in Kazakhstan. We are busy on the ground in order to make the 50th anniversary something to remember.

But it's not only about us! Alex White, a Kaz 22 Volunteer in Aktobe, has designed the Peace Corps Kazakhstan 50th Anniversary website, where you can find out how to get involved in our activities. One of the most creative ways we came up with in order to involve our friends and supporters is the "Peace Corps Kazakhstan Family Mapping Project", where you can pinpoint your location on our Google map and graphically view the extensive global network of support that we receive. Additionally, you can download our prepared sign in PDF form, follow the directions to fill it out, take a photo of you with the sign, and then send it in to our site. The sign is kind of like our version of "flat stanley", if you are familiar with that gradeschool project.

You can complete your sign anytime between now and September, though we hope that you will complete the sign as soon as possible. You may send your photo with the sign to me personally (see my contact info on the right side of the blog), or directly to our site via the directions listed there. All friends, family, blog-stalkers, interested parties, RPCVs, host country nationals, or just plain bored people can fill out a sign and send in the photo! Do it. It will bring such pleasure to our Siberian, self-less lifestyles. And if that's not enough, you should do it because all of the cool kids are doing it these days...peer pressure peer pressure...

No really. Please help us celebrate the 50th Anniversary of Peace Corps and monitor our activities via our PC50th Website and feel free to read Obama's announcement on the 50th Anniversary.

International Women's Day, celebrated on the 8th of every March, is always a big to-do in Kazakhstan. In fact, the week before Women's Day, President Nazarbayev announced to the country that Saturday, March 5 would be a working day, but the entire country would have the following Monday and Tuesday off in order to adequately celebrate the holiday. One of the best things about Kazakhstan is its unending ability to "roll with the punches" so to speak. This national announcement came only 4 days before the proposed change, and everyone in the country just went with it. Like "oh what a great idea" kind of went with it. Imagine Obama alerting you today, that you will have to change all of your plans and shlep to the office on Saturday. And that business meeting you had planned for Monday? Well, need to re-schedule that because the office will be closed. Ha!

Anyway, Women's Day is the second biggest holiday in Kazakhstan following New Years, and all men must buy a cake, flowers, candy, and gifts for the women of their life. Because I work with only women, Women's Day for us was more of a collective event, though Sasha did bring us a nice cake for the occasion. Tess and I celebrated Women's Day by having a picnic in our living room and then walking to the supermarket to buy ourselves a treat. Big day, haha. The best part was that "waiting until the last minute" to buy gifts and cake is not frowned upon in Kazakhstan like it is in America. The streets were overflowing with men on the hunt for their Women's Day goodies. In fact, I would wager that if one went to the supermarket a week before Women's Day, in search of the perfect cake, the bakery would stare in disbelief and wonder if you had maybe misread the calendar or the date on your watch. Here is a poster to commemorate Women's Day:

For the past year and a half, I have lead a Debate club at the local American Corner in the Oblast Library. When I first started the club, the participants were very unpracticed at the art of logic or differentiating between an argument and an opinion. The first few weeks were very sloppy, with our debate club being more like a discussion free-for all. Since then, the group (on average 20-25 people per week) has progressed well beyond my initial expectations, and I get such joy from working with them and seeing how excited they are each week to compose new arguments for our proposed theme (sometimes we play logic games instead of team-style debate). Recent topics have included: Nature vs. Nurture, "Is Money the Key to Happiness", Hardcover books vs. e-books: which is better?, Immigration, Legalizing Marijuana, Should Kazakhstan sell land to China, etc.

Every member of debate club is now able to recite the basic elements of an argument: claim, warrant, impact, and tell me an example of each component. I see them using argument form more and more outside of debate club, questioning the logic behind other people's assumptions in other discussion clubs, and hoping to pick apart the weaknesses therein. The best part about debate club is that it has morphed from an English practice club to a full-on critical thinking club mostly in Russian. Catalyzing independent thought and empowering Kazakhstan's next generation of leaders to examine ideas from multiple vantage points, has been one of my favorite activities as a Volunteer. My own experience in Speech and Debate has helped me so much not only in verbal and written communication, but also in problem-solving and planning, and I love that I have been able to find a place for Speech and Debate in Kazakhstan.

We are planning to have a debate tournament this Spring, and I think at least 10 teams of 2 will compete for the ultimate Karaganda Debate Championship Title. Look forward to coverage of this epic intellectual battle soon to come.

In case you are still following along at home, here is an update of the grants I have written and am currently working on with the feverish passion of a person leaving this country 3 months earlier than I planned:

The European Commission Grant is starting in earnest after the big press-conference which will take place tomorrow. Credo has been preparing all of the methodological materials that will be used in the prison trainings with prison staff, prisoners, and medical services providers. For example, today we finalized the handbook for medical workers, which includes a great deal of information about HIV/AIDS, ART treatment, psychological issues, rehabilitation and support, and so on. My role in this project is pretty nuanced, but I have given input for these materials, as well as tracked down interactive training materials for multimedia presentations (quite a few prisoners cannot read, so Powerpoint is only minimally effective). It seems like my biggest role is interfacing with EU officials who consistently send emails to Credo in English, asking for samples of the intended materials, which we then translate from Russian into English. When I return to America, I hope to devote more academic energy into research about prison-related issues in post-soviet countries, especially Kazakhstan. The nature of my job does not allow me to do that now, but I am definitely amassing a wealth of information for the future.

The Norwegian Grant has been pushed up in order to accommodate my new COS date. Two weekends ago, I rode the train to Almaty to meet with project partners for the conference and book. We had a very successful conference planning session, and the conference announcement and financial aid documents will be distributed around the country in the next 7 days. The conference is planned for May, instead of August, which means I have a great deal of work to do to network with NGOs around the country and encourage them to participate in the project. The conference includes mini-seminars, panel discussions with donors, PDM (project design and management) sessions, communication sessions, and self-led problem-solving breakout sessions. The result of the conference is the eventual Fall publication of a book authored by locals, which represents the collective wisdom about successful projects, failed projects, development recommendations, local perceptions and priorities, and donor interaction. I will author a chapter in this book in order to set the framework of the vision of the project and my experiences as a Volunteer in Kazakhstan. The website for this project will be live in the next 2 weeks.

Last weekend I went to Abai for the first training in the DemCom Grant project, which builds a model program of social/outreach/volunteer work in the field of HIV/AIDS and drug use prevention and awareness. I facilitated a training with 25 people associated with local prisons or the issue of drug use in the community, talking about general concepts of the project and of volunteerism as related to social and outreach work. I will continue to go to Abai every Saturday until the 11-week training program is completed, though I am not facilitating each session (the majority of sessions will be facilitated by our local experts). This Thursday, I will go to Timertau to give the same presentation to our group there. The project takes place both in Abai and in Timertau in order to prepare a team of workers in each location, who will then complete activities after the training program, such as leading self-help groups with beneficiaries, giving information to beneficiaries, finding new beneficiaries, surveying the community, etc. The final product of the project is a methodological tool for all NGOs and Aids Centers to train up their own teams according to our training regimen. Each training represents one chapter in the book, and the compilation will be all necessary information to duplicate the model, with multimedia materials on an accompanying disc.

And finally, the Aktas Grant is beginning, meaning that I will travel to Abai, Timertau, and Aktas every week in order to facilitate or monitor trainings/activities. I'm afraid that this hectic schedule, combined with my other activities at the American Corner, will make my remaining time in Kazakhstan fly by faster than the blink of an eye. Here's to being over-committed, as if that's something new, wink wink.

Back in June, I wrote about a small village located outside of Karaganda City called Aktas. I had been going to Aktas a couple of times because there was a local leader there who was very interested in beginning anti-drug sports programs for youth in the community. Credo and I became more involved on an organizational level, helping the group in Aktas to formalize their ideas into a project plan, as well as build a little more management and organizational infrastructure into the programs there. The result was that I learned a great deal about the disparity in opportunity between those who live in Karaganda city proper, and those who live in the tiny satellite sites some 20 kilometers on the outskirts of town. In October, the perfect grant opportunity for Aktas rolled around, and I worked with the group to write our proposal called "DARE KZ".

Now it is March, and I am happy to report that the proposal was accepted in full, bringing much needed resources, materials, and leadership to Aktas. The proposal targets youth in this very small community, including things like empowerment, leadership, sports, and healthy living activities. Starting next week, I will travel to Aktas one time a week to work with the group there, and to conduct trainings with youth and parents on various themes related to drug demand reduction (DDR).

On a personal level, this grant is my favorite of all of the ones I have written, just because it is literally the first grassroots project to hit this little village, and the infusion of energy and resources could greatly impact the direction of programs in the future. For a Peace Corps Volunteer, projects like "DARE KZ" are like the bread and butter of life, or, as they sometimes say in Russian, "honey for the soul".

#20- Dangerous Playground Equipment

When I was growing up, four-square was definitely the cat's meow when it came to playground entertainment. I remember we used to "cherry bomb" each other, which amounted to chucking an inflatable ball as hard as possible at an opponent in one of the other squares, hoping that you could throw it so fast that it would hit someone before they could catch it. If they caught it, you were out. If it hit them and bounced off, they were out. You can imagine, this led to some bloody noses on more than on occasion.

But other than four-square wars, playground equipment in America is generally safe, and always was even when I was growing up. Nowadays, there are playground inspectors who go around public playgrounds and measure the stability of jungle gyms, the height and distance of a potential jump arc, and the hardness of the playground floor. I kid you not, I once watched a show on Discovery Channel where someone's job was to drop child-like dummies from the highest point of the jungle gym and measure just how soft the ground below must be in order for the child's skull to remain un-cracked.

These kinds of precautions do not occur to people in Kazakhstan when building playground equipment, or allowing children anywhere near said equipment. I feel like the general standard of safety is...well...actually there is no standard. I've seen playground equipment in Kazakhstan consisting of: a 20-foot metal ladder sticking straight out of the ground (where does one go from the top if not plummeting straight down??), wooden merry-go-rounds with massive holes in the base (imagine spinning around in that puppy and your leg falls through...), large above-ground gas and water pipes (wait, since when did they even become playground toys?), ancient Soviet swing sets not bolted to the ground, etc etc.

And let's not even talk about lead paint. What kind of paint can withstand Siberian winters AND come cheap, if not for the lead kind? America is a big anti-lead paint society but Kazakhstan seems to embrace it, especially on playground equipment like that pictured here. And nobody worries that their children will romp about, noshing on the playground equipment for an afternoon snack. Just like nobody worries that their kid will get injured in the frozen death trap that is the courtyard playground. Why? Because children in developing countries, where just walking down the street sometimes ends in the need for a tetanus shot, learn at a young age not to be a dumbass.

#19- Baby Sleds-

I'm going to piggy-back this one off the previous one, especially with the idea that parents in Kazakhstan have totally different safety standards for their children than parents in America. Winter time in Kazakhstan means many things, including frozen nose hairs, an ample amount of hot tea, and more fur than you can shake a stick at. But my most favorite (and I'm so happy I got a picture of this without being seen...creep...creep) is definitely the baby sled.

Baby sleds, like those seen here, are like the Nascar of Kazakhstan (OK maybe only to me when I see a group of them being pulled around a corner and I wonder if they will stack up and crash...). Parents can be seen dragging their children around in these (often homemade) contraptions; in the street, to the bus, to the store, around buildings, through ditches or over snow mounds, and so on. Everyone with a kid has a sled, and not a single sled has a strap of any kind with which to hold the child in place while traversing the rocky terrain that is permafrost. I mean we're talking INFANTS in some of these sleds, and not a one even has the likes of a bunjee around the mid-section.

And it's not like they try to escape, either! These kids know that there is nothing to be gained from rolling off the sled except a face full of ice. So there they sit, rooted to the wooden chassy by nothing but sheer determination. I. Love. It.

#18- Rug Cleaning:

Kazakhstan is a rug culture. Rugs are put on the walls, on the floor, and on chairs. Really, any hard surface can be rugged (read: the act of covering something with a rug, not the adjective synonymous with Russel Crowe). And because the people of Kazakhstan are meticulous with their cleanliness, the rugs must be cleaned on a fairly regular basis, which means that every weekend, I am awakened by the thump-thump-thumps of many of my quad-mates banging the dirt out of their rugs before washing them with the snow (see photo below).

This process can take upwards of 30 minutes per rug. The dirt is beat out of it, followed by a good dousing with snow, followed by sweeping the snow off, followed by more beating. At the very end, the rug is draped over playground equipment and left for several hours to "air out" as the case may be. Sometimes I wonder if any of the rugs have ever gone missing; like, you spend all of this time cleaning and preening your rugs only to leave them hanging and have them swiped. But then I remember that rugs are not a hot commodity because everyone has them, and people must be far more content with their own old rugs than their neighbor's. Ha.

#17- Ringtones-

As I've already mentioned in previous posts, cell-phones are the preferred method of communication in Kazakhstan, and are so culturally significant these days, not only for practicality but also for social status, that most people here have more than one cell-phone. This might not make any sense to you at first, so let me explain. In Kazakhstan, there is no such thing as the monthly cell-phone membership. There is no Verizon Wireless where you can go and sign up for the monthly usage you want, and then have an automatic deduction taken from your account every time the bill comes around. Here, all cell phone usage is pre-paid, and you must buy your sim card through one of the 4 largest sim card providers: Beeline, Active, KCell, or Pathword. All of these companies have different rates per minute, per text, and per region you want to call. Naturally, calling a Beeline sim card from a Beeline sim card is cheaper than calling to a competitor's sim card. Because you must constantly re-fill the balance on your cell-phone by depositing cash into a cell-phone kiosk, you want to make the most of your units while you have them. You don't want to call a Pathword number if you have Beeline. It costs a ridiculous amount of money compared to Beeline-Beeline calls.

This is why people have more than one phone- they have a "Beeline phone" and an "Active phone", for example. This way they can call both sim providers from each respective phone without running out of money in the blink of an eye. So what do you do when you have more than one cell phone? Obviously, you give each one a distinct ring-tone so you can decipher the sounds and automatically know which cell phone to dig out of the bottom of your purse (sidenote: nobody uses vibrate mode in Kazakhstan. NOBODY).

A lot of ringtones in Kazakhstan are American songs, because these short ringtone clips can be downloaded from the internet for free. But they're not the American award-winning songs that make you nostalgic for the rock and roll/classic rock days of the past. No. They're the b-list and teeny bopper pop music songs that are blasted all over the place, making you cringe to be an American. The only redeeming aspect of ringtone usage in Kazakhstan is the fact that very few people understand the lyrics they're downloading and assigning to their precious cell phone. I still find it a barrel of laughs when, for example, an older Kazakh man's phone goes off to "Loosen Up My Buttons" by the Pussycat Dolls. My head is the only one that turns in this case, and I'm definitely the only one smiling, for to everyone else it is just normal.

#16- Superstitions-

Superstitions are in an entire cultural class of their own, but for the sake of thoroughness, I must mention them on the count-down. Some of my favorite Kazakh superstitions include:

-You can't let money exchange hands after sun-down because you will have bad financial luck for the rest of your life. Instead, you must place the money on the floor and the other party must pick it up off the floor.

-Women cannot sit on the corner of a table because it is bad joo-joo.

-When someone is about to leave on a trip, everyone in the room must sit together quietly for at least 2 minutes in order to wish that person's spirit safety en-route.

-Using the air-conditioner will make your spine hurt.

-Sitting on the ground will make you infertile.

-When you empty a bottle, you must blow into it and never place the empty bottle back on the table.

-When someone gives a toast about love, you must make sure your glass is in your left hand, not your right.

-If you want to give a toast to love, it must be the third toast you give.

-You cannot throw away bread, you must respect bread, because without bread, life would be very hard indeed.

*Please see my disclaimer located in the top-right corner.

Today kicks off the Peace Corps 50th Anniversary global celebration, which will continue until September, when Peace Corps will host a massive party on the National Mall in Washington DC. To learn more about what Peace Corps has done in the last 50 years, please watch this YouTube Video.

Like many other organizations, Peace Corps strives to recruit all qualified and motivated Volunteers, whether they be disabled, married, over-the-hill, GLBT, African American, Mormon, atheist, and so on and so forth throughout the entire spectrum of backgrounds, beliefs, and values. We are all working to achieve the 3 goals of Peace Corps, and today we celebrate our efforts and the efforts of all volunteers who came before us.

Happy Birthday, Peace Corps!

The NY Times has picked up the guns-on-campus legislative 'debate', writing that gun activists in Arizona "go so far as to say that grade school teachers ought to be armed as well".

Right. Um.

I guess in Arizona, 'timeout' is just not enough of a deterrent for those wily 2nd graders brandishing their semi-automatic weapons on the playground...look alive America! Your 7-year-old could be packing some heat!

According to an article recently released by the Associated Press, Texas college students may soon be allowed to carry concealed weapons on a number of campuses throughout the state. While it is not the purpose of my blog to get on a soap box about the governmental affairs of either Kazakhstan or America (read: prohibited), I can't help but touch on a more general area of interest related to these... political evolutions... being launched down the proverbial democratic pipe.

In short, to be an American living in Kazakhstan is to be the face of an entire nation; of an entire system of conflicting ideologies and overlapping systemic issues; of an entire set of domestic and foreign policy decisions that seem to change according to ebb and flow of the political tides. To be an American living in Kazakhstan is to be inexorably intertwined with the articles, policy decisions, and Hollywood portrayals of our culture that make their way into local news coverage:

"America" invades a country and it might as well be me on the front lines rallying the troops.

"America" decides to cut foreign aid and it might as well be me yanking food away from starving children in Africa.

"America", as depicted by Hollywood, believes all black people are gang members and criminals, and automatically I'm a bigot.

The degree of separation between "America" and me is nil. Zip. Nada. Nothing. We are one in the same, which is why Peace Corps constantly preaches to us, nay, demands from us, that we be careful stewards of the reputation of "America". They say, "The way you conduct yourself is how every other person around you will believe all Americans in our country conduct themselves". And it's completely true. Why? Because most people in Kazakhstan have never met a foreigner, let alone an American. The only information which informs their perspective of us is the information which we give them, either informally through highly biased news coverage, or formally through our local interactions and projects.

"America" and I. Joined at the hip.

Fear not, friends, for I have been a responsible representative of our culture while living abroad. I work hard, I forgive others, and I respect the differences between America and Kazakhstan. I have been a good steward of our reputation.

"America", however, has not been a careful steward of its own reputation, forcing monumental policy decisions through Congress so fast that Lady Democracy is still recovering from whiplash; allowing an egregious amount of pejorative animadversion to enter our national conscience, such that "Republican" and "Democrat" have been reduced to little more than "Whiny Baby 1" and "Whiny Baby 2"; erasing decades of civil rights triumphs in a despicable fusion of interest groups, financial influence, and government acquiescence; and internationally condemning other countries for not upholding justice in a world where we wrote the book on dealing guns and drugs, systematically discriminating against entire classes of people, destroying the environment, reneging on UN treaties, crippling education, and so on and so forth ad nausea.

No, I have not embarrassed "America". "America" has embarrassed me, forcing me to answer questions about the twists and turns, the double-backs and side-steps, and the seedy, complicated under-belly of a machine spun so out of control that recklessness now looks like child's play.

How do you explain calling it a 'right' for a college student to carry a concealed weapon to Economics class?

How do you call it 'democratic' to push legislation through a state government with the deep pockets of the self-serving gun lobby?

How do you even call it 'sane' to allow guns in a place where the most cherished past-time is doing keg stands and lighting your farts on fire?

You can't. You can't answer these questions without getting lost in the mucky muck that is our blind determination to call our country the crowning achievement of the free world, no matter how far we stray from the tenants of democracy that gave birth to our nation over 200 years ago. Some demand a "return to family values" to mend the tattered and frayed edges of our dignity, but I say that even so, we'd still have 9 miles of bad road ahead of us before we even get close to finding what we really need, which is a return to humanity.

To be an American living in Kazakhstan is to be standing on the outside looking in, seeing with one billion megapixel clarity the sad realization that we're the only ones bru-ha-ha-ing about our supposedly unchallenged superiority, all the while fighting like dogs in a race to the bottom; the bottom dollar, the bottom moral line, the bottom standard to still call ourselves human. Knowing that, it's increasingly more difficult to toe the line and join in the red, white, and blue back-patting, so much so that I just have one more thing to add:

Stop breaking my heart America, or I'll have to pretend I'm Canadian.

#25- School Supplies-

When I was a student, I was constantly weighed down by books and school supplies. All through Middle School and High School, and into college, I carried no less than 20 pounds of "necessary" materials for class. I had binders. I had textbooks. I had pencils. A calculator. A planner. And so on and so forth, not even counting all of the extra supplies I had waiting at home, should I run out of paper in my 250 page spiral notebook I carried for each and every subject. If the apocalypse actually happened, and only affected Office Max, I was still a-OK.

And I wasn't the only one! We all carried an obscene amount of school supplies to and from school, which at one point, actually warranted a discussion at the School Board meeting regarding our aching backs and potential scoliosis. God bless America.

In Kazakhstan, they just don't do this. Students go to school with one tiny little 50-page notebook and a pen. That's it. Signed, sealed, delivered. No backpack. No pencil case. No ruler or calculator. Just a skinny notebook and a pen. And they do all of their work in one notebook! They leave their books at school (except in a minority of instances) because the school doesn't have enough copies for every student to take one home. Such is life, and if I was a TEFL Volunteer, I would have a lot more inside knowledge about how teachers check student's work when every subject is inside the same little notebook. Do they do homework? Do they leave their little notebook at school and the teachers just divvy them up and then swap? I really don't know. I'll consult Tess and get back to you on this one, just know that school supplies is handled completely differently here in Kazakhstan, and when I bring more than 3 pens to work, my co-workers always ask why. And I always answer "Because I want to write different things with different colors". It's unheard of.

#24- Brand Names-

You've heard of Banana Republic, you've heard of Gap, and you've heard of Old Navy (coincidentally, owned by the same company). You've heard of Dolce and Gabana, Gucci, Prada, and Armani. You might even pay the exorbitant prices for these brand names (I'm not judging-- I prefer to sweat in UnderArmour instead of Hanes) and sport them at brunch or a night out on the town. For all you fashionistas out there, with your infinite wisdom about what's "in" this season, I bet you've never heard of GucciPradaArmaniDior jeans.

This is because you've never been to Kazakhstan, where the GucciPradaArmaniDior jeans are often accompanied by a D&GPradaDior purse or sunglasses. You might love your brand names, but Kazakhstan loves them like a fat kid loves cake. Kazakhstan loves them so much that Kazakhstan sells clothing with more than one brand on it at a time. And for 1% of the price! How's that for a bargain? Personally, I only own one pair of jeans that fit this category. They're black. Skinny. Stretchy. They come with sequins and they have gold accessories hanging off the belt loops. You might be thinking "Wow, Hilary, what a break in your usual American garb you wore in the States". And you're right. But I'm thinking "Gucci, Prada, and Armani all in one? Done. And Done. Kazakh-ify me, dear Karaganda Bazaar. I've seen the error in my ways".

#23- Running for the Bus-

I laughed at this this morning on my way to work, and as a result, it edged out another cultural tidbit and made the list today. As I've already noted, most people in Karaganda take the bus, and taking the bus in Kazakhstan is not just for po' folk-- it's viewed as the most sensible option given the cost of vehicles in relation to the average annual wage. The buses are always full of people, and even more people are always waiting around for the bus they need. Sounds like America? Sure, why not.

But in America, the bus will not wait for you, and it certainly won't stop if you hail it on the side of the road with your best "I'm freezing my buns off, pity me pity me" face. In Kazakhstan, you can see people bolting from 50-100 meters away, waving their arms like the roof is on fire, trying to catch the driver's attention before the doors close and the bus pulls away. And they almost always succeed! Drivers here check their mirrors for any potential passengers scurrying forth from an apartment building, crosswalk, or corner store. If they see you. They wait.

Anyway, this is funny because the most sophisticated ladies, in their mink fur and black stilettos, will get up and go (well, as much as one can have gotten up and went while wearing hooker boots) in order to catch their bus. I've seen it happen! On ice and snow! And after darting toward the bus in front of all onlookers, they stop at the stairs, adjust their handbag, dust off their shoulders and put some swagger into boarding. Hey, if you're feeling like a pimp...

A couple times I've seen this backfire. I said that the "runners", as I'll refer to them from now on, almost always succeed. By no means it is a sure thing. As much as I want to give a fist pump and a hearty "hoozah" to those that make it, I also want to turn around and wince for those that don't. I mean come on, how embarrassing, right? It's like being that person who thinks someone is waving to them from the other side of the room, waves back, and then realizes that they weren't the intended target-- it was the guy behind them. When I see someone who didn't quiiiiiiite get there, I try to give my "better luck next time" eyes, but to date, none of the runners have picked up on it. They probably think I'm crazy.

#22- Outages-

The water and electricity are known to be unreliable, here in the "developing world". Water outages and blackouts are all too common, even in Karaganda, even in my building. I've woken up on a number of weekends, rallied myself to accomplish everything on my to-do list, only to be thwarted by an unexpected power outage that sends me hurling back into the stone age. No computer. No TV. No refrigerator. No stove. No explanation, and certainly nobody to call and bitch to in order to get it to be turned back on. Whine whine (I should shut it, I'm supposed to be roughing it in Peace Corps chuckle chuckle), pout.

The same holds true for water- which can go off for days at a time because one of the main water lines burst or froze itself shut. Such is life here in Kazakhstan, and everyone but me is not only OK with it, but hardly thinks it out of the ordinary. I mean, these are people who say "it's OK that they turn the hot water off for 3 months in the summer, because we get it for the other 9 months the rest of the year".

Wait. What?

I usually spend my electricity-less days staring at my world map, reading books I otherwise would have had no interest in, and watching the neighborhood kids fight each other from my balcony like a total creeper. Good times, good times.

#21- Public Music-

Finding personal space in Kazakhstan is about as arduous a task as finding a coastline (read: impossible- there is no coast in Kazakhstan! It's the biggest landlocked country on the planet). It's something I've adjusted to, which was a long and difficult path coming out of a country where you're almost always guaranteed an invisible "space bubble" at least the distance from your shoulder to your fingertips. Having no personal space is normal to me now, which some of you will soon discover as I try to entertain conversations with you while standing uncomfortably close.

However, the thing I have yet to adjust to is the public music. I am often subjected to other people's music interests in confined spaces where I have no other option but to sit restlessly and take it like a man. In Kazakhstan, it is totally acceptable to blast music from your cell phone on the bus, on the train, in the office, in the hallway, on the street, and anywhere else that the urge strikes you to listen to your favorite jams. Sometimes, more than one person decides the time is right, and the result is a dueling cacophony of Russian and B-list American pop music.

Try being on an 18-hour train ride where everyone and their mom can play music at will and there is nothing you can do to stop it. I'm telling you straight up, hold the ice, I would rather cut my left arm off with nothing but cotton balls and floss than spend another minute listening to The PussyCat Dolls on 18-hour repeat. Mr. Got-Stuck-in-A-Mountain-Almost-Died-But-Cut-His-Arm-Off-In-The-End had it good. He had silence.

Public displays of music also occur en masse because supermarkets install outside speakers and "treat" the neighborhood to the nightly playlist of leftover 90's music. No joke, every night during the summer, I had the supermarket on one side of my house playing music from 5pm-11pm, and I had the restaurant on the other side of my house playing music from 5pm-11pm. The only music-free "safe room" in my house was the toilet room. No windows. No vents. Just silence. I've never loved a toilet so much in my life.

OK, that's a lie, but I won't go into the details here.

**Please see my disclaimer in the right hand corner.

Peace Corps turns 50 this year (HAPPY BIRTHDAY!) and in order to celebrate Peace Corps' over-the-hill-ness, PCVs, RPCVs, friends, and supporters of Peace Corps are holding parties and community awareness events the world over. In Kazakhstan, specifically, we (and by 'we' I mean me and a team of 6 others) have been planning, coordinating, and promoting our action plan to all Volunteers and staff in-country. We developed "celebration kits" for every Volunteer to hold an event in their community with minimal planning effort, and we lobbied Washington for the funds to help turn all of our ideas into action. The result was approval for $10,000 to be allocated to Peace Corps Kazakhstan, which we will distribute to Volunteers for Oblast-level activities and individual volunteer initiatives. We're making promotional gifts. We're designing our own logo. And we're buying tea. So. Much. Tea.

But it's not just about us. It's about you, too. Peace Corps Washington has created the 50th Anniversary website, though Peacecorpsconnect, where you can read more about events happening in your community and in Washington. As a supporter of current Volunteers, or just as a reader of my blog, I urge you to get involved in the party planning as well. Treat your besties to coffee at Starbucks and instead of talking about your job or latest fitness routine, talk about Peace Corps and something you've learned from my experience here in Kazakhstan.

If you want, you can call this a "house party" even though it isn't in your house. Or, if you're a stickler, have it in your house. Get crazy with it. Regardless of its location, you can register your mini-event at this website and view all registered events happening around the world.

Feel free to do this by March 1, or anytime after that, as Peace Corps is celebrating the 50th Anniversary for most of this year, with the grand finale being a massive event on the National Mall in DC this September. If you decide to come to our tea and cookies event registered in Karaganda (please consult the link for registered events), you should RSVP so that we can make sure to buy enough tea and cookies for your jet-lag appetite...wink wink.

Just because you're not a Volunteer, doesn't mean you can't be involved with Peace Corps' birthday. Take a picture of your mini-event, send it to me, and I'll make sure it gets on my blog and in the eager hands of Peace Corps DC. It's a global house party. Time to represent. Ready. Go.

Karaganda Oblast has been a hot-bed for social butterflies. Two weeks ago, we had 17 Americans in town for an Oblast dinner at a local lagman cafe. Not only did we overwhelm the staff with our requests for menus, but we also demanded the opportunity to put the tables together so we could eat in unison. I know. We're so American.

Then, this past weekend I had 13 people over for a belated Superbowl Party. Even though I was spoiled enough to get college football on my home TV, I was unable to view a single NFL game all season, including the Superbowl. In honor of the event, we downloaded the game and displayed it with a projector I borrowed from Credo. Not only did the game have stunning quality, but the projected image literally took up the entire length of my living room wall. I plugged in my little Altec Lansing speaker and wham bam we had Superbowl 45 almost live (by our standards). Only 2 people in the group knew that the Packers had defeated the Steelers, so it was an interesting gathering filled with deep-seated rivalry and stateside ties. The party was pot-luck style, and between all present, we had vegetarian chili, meatloaf, 2 salads, cobbler, cookies, a cake, and chicken wings. A good time was had by all, and I even treated myself to an expensive, imported German wheat beer. Nom nom nom.

At the end of the month, Pavlodar Oblast will host the second annual, Annual Karaganda vs. Pavlodar Oblast Winter Olympics, where PCVs from each Oblast will compete against each other in some of the most trying and physically demanding locally-contrived competitions. There will be guts. There will be bravado. There will be Vodka. And for all the cookies in the cookie jar, Karaganda Oblast will sweep those ninnies up in Pavlodar, thus proving our superior brawn and agility. The gauntlet has been thrown.

And, for those of you who enjoy the news articles I attach to the blog, this is a real treat about the upcoming elections in Kazakhstan. And hey! Just for giggles, here are two good lookin' fellows both itching to uphold the most sanctimonious pillars of democracy...

ps- If you live in Texarkana, Arkansas, please leave me a comment. Google Analytics tells me you're my biggest fan, and I'm beside myself wondering who you are...

#30- Popular Music-

Kazakhstan is behind the times when it comes to music preference-it seems like what was popular in America in the 90's is still hanging on strong in a lot of places in Kazakhstan. Just last Friday I was listening to the radio at work and "Hit Me Baby One More Time" came on, but instead of being played as a throwback to the good ole days, it was broadcast as if it was still a chart topper. A lot of cafes in Karaganda play music, like the restaurant in front of my apartment, and their selection is almost entirely music from the 90s. I can't even tell you how many times I've heard Mambo Number 5, or Who Let the Dogs Out, not to mention obscure one-hit wonders from the 80's. Who knew that "Black Velvet" would make it so far?

#29- Lines-

America is a country of lines. We stand in lines in the supermarket, we organize ourselves into lines at the post office, and we certainly stand in line to board a moving vehicle. From an early age, when teachers file their students into perfectly straight lines, we learn the importance of knowing your place and respecting the general order of those in front of you and behind you. I once saw a full fight break out between old ladies because one of them "cut the line" during the holiday season. America is a no cuts kind of place, even between the elderly.

Kazakhstan, on the other hand, is a country where lines take on more of a cluster-like form. OK let's be honest, lines don't exist here. If you want to ever make it to the front, you have to throw some elbows and keep constant vigilance with your best stink eye. People won't just cut you in Kazakhstan, they will edge you out completely. One second you're standing there, next to reach the window, and the next second a group has pushed you out of the way and you're a breath away from the squat toilets, wondering how much you really want to collect that package from America.

The closest thing that Kazakhstan has to a line is the verbal rank and file. In some places, like the Alma TV service center, you must ask the collective standing around "who is the edge" or "who is last", to which the last person will tell you "I am". You must then find a place to stand, and keep an eye on him or her to avoid being skipped. Sometimes, the last person may be standing on the street having a smoke, and when you walk in and ask the collective "who is the edge", they will tell you "the man on the street who is smoking". You have no idea who this man is, what he looks likes, or when he is coming back, but the fact that the collective has named him last means that the man on the street is the man in front of you. When the next person comes in and asks "who is the edge", you must tell them "I am, after the man on the street smoking". In this way, a disorganized line eventually forms, with darting glances being thrown here and there across the room to monitor one's status in the queue. Once, a man walked in and ignored the collective, never asking "who is the edge", and instead went straight for the ticket office. Before he could get there, though, there was an outburst from others standing around who quickly informed him that he was behind the "girl with the red scarf" who was "behind the man smoking on the street" who was "behind the woman with the black fur coat" who was "behind the woman with the 2 children" and so on and so forth. I was actually amazed that people remembered the entire lineup with such personal attention to detail. You'd think that a lot of mental energy would be spared if people just stood in a line.

The no cuts policy would always prove problematic in Kazakhstan, however, for the elderly, carte blanche, get to move to the front of the line. They've had a hard life and get street cred for just walking around outside on the ice without breaking a hip. The whole collective is rearranged when an elderly person walks in the door. No ifs ands or buts.

#28- Slow Internet-

Internet in America is like a 550 horsepower Mustang GT. It may not turn on a dime but the acceleration rate is such that your fingers get a little tingly just thinking about the power. Internet in Kazakhstan, however, is more like a horse and buggy system. No matter how hard you to try to crack the whip, the ole mare just won't get up and go. Even when you run her wide open, you only ever get a slow jaunt, if you're lucky. Slow internet is something I've adapted to, and when I return to America, I really don't know what I will do with the instant gratification type of internet we get from our high-powered fiber optic cables. Actually, I may feel jipped, like my internet is preventing me from getting up to make a snack, or take a nap, or go to the store. And who does my internet think it is to load so fast that I can't simultaneously enjoy a bite? In Kazakhstan, it takes 7 or 8 hours to download an episode of Grey's Anatomy. By the time I have it actually on my hard-drive in totality, I have gotten myself so worked up with anticipation that watching the show is nothing short of blissful. Everything will just feel cheapened when I can stream it live from the internet...or watch it on wifi at Starbucks.

#27- Schedules-

Because planning is often an elusive concept in Central Asia, so too are schedules. Last summer I went to the train station to buy a ticket to go to a summer camp. I wanted to buy the ticket 2 weeks in advance because I was worried that the students' summer break would make the trains fill up faster. After I told the cashier the destination and date of my travel, she looked at me as if I was blind, deaf, and dumb and informed me that it was "too soon to possibly know the schedule in 2 weeks". "Why?", I asked. "Because we have no idea when the track renovation will be completed". "So, if it's not completed what will I do?" Then she said, "I don't know, it's not my problem. Come back next week and see if there is a schedule".

This is common in Kazakhstan, as are last-minute schedule changes. Last-minute schedule changes happen in schools, with meetings, with celebrations, and everything else in-between. I think this is what Peace Corps meant when they said "flexibility is key to success".

#26- Misuse of English- Because Kazakhstan is a completely bilingual country, all advertisements, billboards, or signs are written in both Kazakh and Russian languages. Hardly ever will you find a sign with one language and not the other. However, because Nazarbayev has pushed the importance of English as being the "third national language of Kazakhstan", some places are now attempting to use all three languages for their advertisement needs. I always admire their effort-I mean, most of America is firmly rooted to single language proficiency and we can barely handle that in itself. Imagine trying to write everything in 3 languages all the time. Nevertheless, sometimes they get the translation wrong, and the results are humorous for native speakers (see photos below). I've seen grammatically incorrect signs in even the most prestigious locations in Almaty and Astana, which makes me think that a good job for a Peace Corps volunteer is to advise the team of translators responsible for public displays of English, haha.

Even so, there would still be the problem of brand names. A very popular brand of soap and detergent is called "Barf". That's right. Barf. This, as well as other examples, never fails to bring out the most immature side of any ex-pat living in Central Asia. I encourage you to let your mind run wild in the hilarity of not acting your age and laugh out loud knowing that I wash my clothes with Barf.

Peace Corps Kazakhstan is getting ready to accept another group of volunteers in March. As a product of the worldwide expansion, Kazakhstan's program has moved to 2 PSTs a year (one in March, and one in August). If you happen to be a Kaz 23 Volunteer set to leave for staging on March 9th, I encourage you to join the following Google group:

http://groups.google.com/group/kaz23

Here, you can post questions to current volunteers as well as connect with others in your group. If you're a parent who's stalking the blog circuit desperately trying to get more info about "the 'Stan place where my son/daughter will be living for far too long", feel free to join the group as well. Or, you can message me directly with your questions (I know my mom felt left out of the information circuit). In general, here are the most important points I wish I had known:

-The baggage weight/restrictions that Peace Corps published in the staging packet were more like "guidelines" to deter you from bringing every possession you own. Not a single person measured our bags, and all of the overweight bag fees were paid by Peace Corps. That being said, they aren't kidding when they tell you to bring only what you can carry. We had to lug our belongings over considerable distances, and nobody can help you carry your things when everyone is already maxed out. Additionally, Peace Corps will give you 30 pounds of things when you get here (water purification system, medical bag, Russian dictionary, training books, etc) and none of us factored this into our carrying capacity.

-It's useful to have a smaller duffle/weekend bag. I maxed out the baggage limitations with a large backpacking bag and 2 rolling suitcases. Though these were useful for the "big move", they have proved pretty useless on weekend trips in-country, or even short vacations out of country. I use a local rice bag for this purpose, but it would have been nice to have brought my own for short trips.

-Office supplies can be found in Kazakhstan, but certain items are so bad you shouldn't even bother. I am NOT a teacher, so I am not responsible for bringing my own classroom supplies, but I have had to use the basics now and then for trainings (markers, pens, posterboard, etc). I brought 3 packs of Crayola markers, 6 packs of crayons, 3 rolls of Scotch, a 2 sets of permanent markers. The crayons and scotch can be bought here, as can sticky notes. Permanent markers or regular markers will dry out instantly if you purchase them locally. If you're prioritizing office supplies, put markers on the top of the list and don't bring pens and notebooks. Those things you can get here.

-Buy shoes in America, but buy winter clothing in Kazakhstan. Shoes here are only designed to last one season (if that) and will cost what seems to be an arm and a leg. Invest in shoes before you come, and rest assured that Peace Corps will take you to the bazaar in Almaty to purchase winter clothing after site placement is released. Chances are, the winter clothing you bring will be so strange here that it's better to wait just for integration's sake. The North Face jacket that was popular in Texas is not so popular here because it lacks the obligatory fur, tassels, zippers, and faux leopard print. Bring what's comfortable to you if you already have it, but otherwise, save your money for when you go shopping in Almaty.

-Bring your own coffee, french press, or mini-grinder if you are a caffeine addict. Kazakhstan is all about the tea, and its coffee is only instant (read:mud).

-Invest in quality anti-virus software and a surge protector (on higher end converters you can get a surge protector built-in). In a lot of smaller towns, electricity does not run on a constant current, and during PST, I lost my first power cord from a surge and had to have another one mailed to me 6 weeks later. Not convenient.

-Bring less clothes. In Kazakhstan, it is not out of the ordinary to repeat outfits in the same week. Often, my coworkers wear the same outfit (or a slight variation therein) on back to back days. Moreover, I drastically misjudged what is "fashionable" and "work appropriate" despite the best of intentions. It is important to bring clothes for a variety of activities (fitness, hiking, swimming, teaching, riding the train, going on vacation, lounging, etc) but plan to buy some clothes here just to fit in, and plan on seeing your co-workers wear the same outfits week in and week out. You don't need 7 work shirts and 4 pairs of pants, but you DO need your favorite hoodie to remind you of home when it's -40 outside.

-There is no way to bring it all, so don't fret trying to. Your daily life in this country is linked to your site and that site's geographic location. The differences between North and South are extreme, and you will have to buy things here for site-specific integration/comfort. If you accept that you really have no idea how your life will be, you'll stress less about bringing the things to make other people happy and more about bringing the things you know you'll miss. Like brownies, tampons with applicators, and peanut butter cups.

-On that note, tampons with applicators don't exist. In most places, tampons don't exist. Fact.

-REMEMBER TO BRING PRESENTS AND PHOTOS FROM HOME. This cannot be stressed enough. You will live with 2 host families before having the opportunity of finding your own apartment, and you should bring both families a gift. You should also bring "extra gifts" to give to your school/Director/counterpart when you go to site. Good gifts include American candy, candles, or souvenirs from America. Prepare a photo album of your daily life back home: your family, where you went to school, a picture of your house, photos of your town, etc. If you think the photo is boring, it's the exact thing they will want to see. Last, if you really want to please a crowd, bring one of those "famous places in America" map that has little pictures of all of our landmarks. Chances are they've heard of some of them, but they've never seen it laid out visually. One day your Russian will be good enough to explain it all, and when that day comes, you'll be so happy to have such a small, silly little thing.

35- Cellular Devices-

I'm reminded of the power of globalization when I see people whip out their cell phones on the street or on the bus. Like in other developing countries, cell phones in Kazakhstan are the most reliable means of long-distance communication; sometimes even the cheapest as well. It seems to be standard procedure in developing countries, of which Kazakhstan is included, that people invest in a cell phone before they invest in things that seem automatic to us in America. Like a washing machine. Or a hot water heater. Or even a reliable electrical or water system if you extrapolate out to a government level. Indeed, people in villages outside of Karaganda have a cell phone long before they have indoor plumbing. And it's not like they're yapping on the "first-gen." black bricks of the type my Dad had back in the 90's. No, they're sending multimedia text messages, streaming internet, and taking photos/videos with the latest models that Verizon and AT&T promote with the fervor of drug pushers. People here are serious about their cell phones, even when they're not serious about covering up their manholes or investing in shoes that last more than one season.

34- Cell Phone Etiquette

I hate talking on the phone in Russian because I can never tell when they're about to give me the brush off and hang up. In America, we have a pretty standard way of gracefully exiting our cell phone conversations, including things like "OK, well, I don't want to keep you any longer...pause" or, "Alright, well I'm getting in the car now and have to let you go...pause" or even, "So it was nice chatting with you but I'm heading to a lunch meeting...pause". In America, you know when someone is ending a conversation with you.

You just know.

And you usually respond in kind, even if you weren't really done with the conversation. You say things like "Alright yea, it was wonderful to catch up...pause", or "Definitely, we'll talk again soon...pause" or even, "Excellent, have a good rest of the day...pause". And if THAT'S not enough, we take it one more layer deep and reiterate confirmation that the conversation is now over. "Talk soon" or "Yup, you too", or "Excellent, we'll be in touch" followed by "Bye".

That's the clencher in our culture. "Bye". So simple, and yet it says so much. In Kazakhstan, you don't get off the highway of conversation on a smooth, paved exit ramp and come to a nice and comfortable stop. No, people hang the eff up on you! It's abrupt. It's jarring. It's like whiplash.

I can't even tell you how many times I've kept trucking along in the conversation, stumbling through my Russian in order to get out one of MY questions, only to look down after some very awkward pauses and find that it's only me and the time of day on my phone's background screen.

33- City Phones

You can call landlines for free in Karaganda, and you only need 6 numbers. You can think of this like we're all networked up with a wee little extension number. Dial 485733 and you get person X. Dial 707967 and you get person Y. If someone calls me on my cell phone, I can call them back on the landlines and neither of us loses money. Actually, come to think of it, I'm pretty sure my parents have this, so maybe it only seems novel to me because I've been gone too long. Anyway, the point is that people here love the landlines and greatly prefer them to cell phones for all in-city calling. The problem is that my house phone rings all the time. Like, constantly. And it's never for me! Actually, it's never for an American at all, and Americans have lived in this apartment for years and years. It rings and, back when I used to answer, the other end would say "Alibek?" and I'd say "Niet". Then they'd hang up, as they tend to do (see above). A couple hours later it would ring again and I would answer. "Gulnara?" and I'd say "Niet". Repeat day in and day out. Sometimes my "Niet" would surprise them and they'd have a question to challenge whether or not I was certain that Gulzhan or Olya were not home.

And I would hang up. Karma. Sometimes I think it would be a barrel of laughs to call a 6 digit number at random (like people appear to be doing to me) and say in Russian "Is your refrigerator running?" But then I think they may not have a refridgerator and the whole thing would be foiled. Instead I should just call and say in English, "Bobby? BOBBY IS THAT YOU?!"

32- Building Phones

In a lot of apartment buildings in Karaganda, you can pay to turn on your building phone. The building phone is your apartment number and a letter, which someone can enter on the keypad down at the street in order to call your apartment. A little phone by your door rings and you can talk to them on the street and decide to let them in without having to go down and then up 9 flights of stairs on foot. It's quite convenient, actually, and without someone "buzzing you in", the door at the street remains locked by a magnet. At least in my building, and the buildings of my sitemates.

The interesting thing about the building phone is that people use it as an excuse not to carry keys. Much like my city phone, my building phone rings multiple times a day because people randomly punch in my apartment number hoping I will be home to let them into the building with the push of a button. Also like my city phone, I used to answer the building phone...and it was never for me. The person at the street would tell me that they didn't have keys, or that they were from the clinic, or that the building phone at their destined apartment was not working. It's cultural to think that I would let them in. After all, we are one big collective.

31- Making Change

Buying things in Kazakhstan can be a gamble when it comes to getting proper change in return. You really have to time it right in order to guarantee yourself exact change, like making sure to go after the first couple hours of opening. That way, there will have been other patrons before you who have purchased goods and filled the till with more than the one bill it started with. On several occasions I've miffed the timing, and after paying for my items, expecting change in return, the lady behind the counter (or pile of breaded goods as the case may be) starts dolling out 5 tenge pieces until it's 45 tenge short. Then she reaches for an opened pack of gum and pulls out one stick, laying it on the little pile of short-changedness and goes about her business.

There are no further questions asked in this transaction, and I should take my off-brand Orbit gum and be on my way with minty fresh breath. Challenging the situation has not produced desirable results. Once, I spent 10 minutes hassling the lady in Russian to give me the rest of my change, and she spent 10 minutes turning around to another lady and besmirching my good name in Kazakh. Actually, I have no idea what was said in Kazakh, but I imagine I was called a goat or some other animal often selected to be a personal insult. In the end, she handed me one more stick of gum and I said "goodbye", "thank you", and "have a nice day" in Kazakh, and the look on her face was definitely worth the 45 tenge I didn't receive in change.

All of these photos were taken on my 3 week tour of Latvia, Lithuania, Estonia, Finland, and Ukraine. This region was gorgeous and I highly recommend visiting, especially if you speak Russian. Nana, I hope you can see all of the photos because I uploaded them for you!

None of these photos were taken by me because I seem to lack a general talent at photographing important events (always forget the camera), so here are some real winners that my friends have collected from Karaganda and Karkaralinsk. Note: the man in the white suit is running with the torch for the Asian Olympic Games. Can you tell which photo was not taken this winter? It's an oldie but a goodie. Makes me smile every time. Enjoy!

Elections in Kazakhstan are stirring up a bit of turmoil lately. All in favor of P Diddy coming to Astana and "rocking the vote"? Put your hand up and grab some sky.

Also, I usually do not include official statements from bureaucratic organizations (see my disclaimer up top), but this one I thought was necessary due to Peace Corps' bad press after 20/20 aired their special on sexual assault in the Peace Corps. If you need more information about this topic, please consult the links within the document. As a current Volunteer, I am offended by 20/20's biased account of a serious, and yet drastically misrepresented topic. In most cases, Volunteers are safer in their host communities than walking downtown at night in Chicago or Atlanta, and any blame for security shortcomings needs to be directed at particular miscreants (found worldwide no less) who prey upon other people with malicious intent, rather than at Peace Corps.

Huff. Puff. Blow the house down. In other news, I'm looking out the window at pillow-sized snow. Really, it might as well be snowing Bed Bath and Beyond these snowflakes are so huge. I wouldn't even need a snowball for a proper fight; one flake will do. Thank you, February, for proving winter is still going strong...

In 6 months from today, I will be leaving Kazakhstan.

I didn't want to bury the lead, so there it is. However, there is a bit of a back-story to that comment which I will now explain. Last November, Peace Corps informed all Volunteers in Kazakhstan that due to programmatic, financial, and expansion issues, my group will be leaving 3 months earlier than originally scheduled. Because the Peace Corps program here has recently shifted to 2 training groups per year (one in March and one in August), the number of volunteers which will overlap this year is more than can be supported by our staff in Almaty. As a result, my group is being phased out early to shorten the overlap time between Kaz 21 (my group), Kaz 22 (arrived last August), Kaz 23 (coming soon in March) and Kaz 24 (coming soon in August). If my group was allowed to stay until our original contract COS date of November 1, Peace Corps Kazakhstan would have 4 full groups of Volunteers in the country for August, September, and October of this year. There is no way that our medical staff of 2 people, for example, could accommodate 200+ PCVs.

However, it is not like Washington is giving us the boot without due consideration. We were told after this shocking bombshell of information, that OCAP (me) and YD Volunteers could put in for consideration to stay until the original date of November 1, should our programs at site merit the "extension".

This is why I have been uncharacteristically silent about this issue until now. I have given it a lot of thought, factoring in the 4 grants that I am working on as well as the need to find employment after Peace Corps, and finally decided to leave with everyone else on August 2. Employment threw the trump card on grants, and I'm not over the moon about that, but I figured I could ramp up my efforts a bit more in the coming months and satisfy a good portion of the activities while preparing my co-workers to finish the deed.

The dust is still settling over the landscape in my mind, now that I have made a decision. When I signed up for Peace Corps and finally left America for 27 months, the idea of returning to America was never something I factored into my life in the immediate sense. Ok, that's a lie, in my weakest moments I admit I thought about calling it quits here and scrambling back as soon as possible. Outside of those moments, it was always 24 months left, then 18 months left, then 12 months left, and now my 9 months has quickly shrank to 6 months and that feels very soon to me. Yes, friends, 6 months now seems like nothing after a year and a half away.

As a result, not only am I preparing to leave Kazakhstan early, but I am also preparing to enter America early. I'm on the prowl for a job, and I've already applied to 14 positions-- some with consulting, some with investment banking, some with think tanks, and one with non-profit work. If anyone has news of an opening in the Houston area, please let me know.

It appears as though God's Country is my next destination. That's right, Texas, I'm coming to mess with you. August 2011. Get ready. The countdown is on.

#40- Stray Animals-

One of the sadder things about Kazakhstan, but something that I have come to accept as a fact of life, is the vast amount of stray animals on the street. Dogs and cats can be seen roaming neighborhoods, most often in summer but also in winter. There are more strays in villages and small towns than in cities, and sometimes villages round up the stray animals, kill them, and turn their fur into clothing items. During my first 3 months in Kazakhstan, my heart would break for all of these strays. I'm not saying that I've been completely hardened, for I still leave food when I can, but the situation is so futile that I've stopped expending energy worrying about them. Otherwise, I would be worrying all the time. However, there are a lot of other people who leave food for the strays, and during the winter, they find warm refuge under the apartment buildings (there are holes in the foundation). For better or worse, this is an inescapable reality in this country.

#39- Menu Issues-

Eating at a café in Kazakhstan is often an adventure. Not only is the food, service, and atmosphere much different than what we would find in the states, the menu itself also poses some interesting issues. For example, each table is only given 1 menu. This fact does not change no matter how many people are sitting at the table. I've been in a group of two, a group of 6, and even a group of 12 and we had to basically beg for more than one menu. The idea that every person sitting at the table would have their own menu is wildly absurd here. Moreover, the menu is not the be all and end all of food that is available. The menu is more like a...suggestion...or a goal of what could be available in a Utopian world. On numerous occasions I have pointed to something on the menu only to be told that "we are out of carrots" or "we don't have any flour right now". Once, I was told at a pancake place (bleenee), that there were no pancakes. Sometimes I wonder why they even bother giving me a menu. They would do better just to tell me what they can cook for me.

#38- Long Commutes-

Kazakhstan is a huge country. Before arriving, I really had no idea how big Kazakhstan was, for it seems to me like I just entirely skipped over the region in all of my studies. But if you take a little looksy at the map, you too will see that Kazakhstan is massive, with great expanses separating all major cities. Distance is not a deterrent to travel between these cities, but unlike America, however, taking an airplane is not the most common method of traversing the entire country from end to end. No, no, no, people take the train or they take the bus. These journeys can range from 4 hours to 46 hours (imagine, you're still not there yet after 45 hours of moving), and no matter the distance, there is ALWAYS someone who waited too long, or is too poor, to buy a proper ticket. What to do, what to do? In Kazakhstan, this person can still jump on. They just have to stand the entire way, or sleep on the floor/baggage shelf of the train as the case may be. Once, I was on a 17-hour overnight bus from Shymkent to Almaty and there were at least 15 people standing in the aisle. All night long. Yes, for a straight 17 hours they stood, sometimes sleeping standing up, but standing all the same. As undesirable as this may be in any culture, it is quite commonplace nevertheless. If it were me, I would just as soon stay home.

#37- "Girl"-

When I was in high school, Paul Wall had made a really popular rap song that repetitively utilized the word "girl" when talking to a female. "Girl, why you do this to me?" or "Girl, when you coming home?" I though it was derogatory because in America, you do not address someone as "girl" unless you are sorority sisters, begging to be slapped, or...well...that's about it I think. In Kazakhstan, you ONLY address people as "girl". You could be flagging down a waitress, asking someone to move aside on the bus, or buying something at the bazaar. In every case, all day long, you will address females as "girl" or "girls", and everyone else will address you as "girl" (unless, of course, you are a man and then you're called "young person"). I suppose I've gotten used to it, because I can holler a forceful "girl" at a café and the poor waitress comes running, and more than that, every time someone calls "girl" on the street, I instinctively turn around thinking it could be me they're yelling at. If I let a "girl" slip in America I think I'll be somewhat mortified. But there's a high probability that it will happen.

#36- English Lessons-

I understand that the majority of Americans in Kazakhstan are here to teach English. Sure, there are some businessmen here, but they are relegated to Almaty and Astana and hardly interact with the common people. Thus, I totally get why "American" is associated with "English lessons". However, the thing I don't get is why every single person in this country seems to be under the impression that they can get free, private English lessons from an American and that it will be easy to actually learn the language. Every PCV in Kazakhstan has been approached at least 5 times by someone wanting private English lessons, and this person does not even have to be an acquaintance! I've been on the bus and someone overheard me speaking English, came up to me and asked if I'm American, and then asked me for my phone number so I can teach them English. And every time I'm like "I'm sorry, I don't teach English", which just prompts a whole lot of confusion as to what, dear lord, I would be doing in KZ otherwise. It doesn't matter WHAT I'm doing in Kazakhstan because for all intensive purposes, the thing I am best at is teaching English for free to everyone and their mom. And it never fails that when I decline such a fabulous opportunity, the other party is inevitably a bit put-off. Yes, they're actually offended that I'm not going to teach them English in my abundance of free time. For this reason, I carry around a little schedule of our English clubs at the American Corner, which I relay to them as a "second best alternative" in which they can still learn English from Americans. They're usually still confused, and then I walk away.

I received information this morning that a grant I wrote to the U.S. Democracy Commission was approved and the project will begin in the next 2 weeks. I'm very excited about this particular grant because I will have a direct role in its entire execution, particularly in interacting with our beneficiaries, which is a break from my usual routine of providing organizational and strategic support with our staff. Over the past year and a half, I have been a teeny weeny bit jealous of some of my peers who often interact with the beneficiary pool of their organization (most often this is youth) while I am stuck at headquarters developing materials and holding staff development trainings. Don't get me wrong, that kind of work is my exact job description here.

However, there have been times I wish I could see the results of my efforts a little more, and interacting with the people being served is the easiest way to witness that effect. But, because my organization provides systemic, multi-disciplinary support to drug users, prisoners, sex workers and the like, it is challenging for me to think of ways to meet our beneficiaries' needs. I am not qualified to give psychological, legal, or medical referrals in a foreign language, nor is my degree in child developmental psychology or addiction. I have been at a loss when it comes to thinking of ways to actually help these people.

The "P2P" project will bring me a little bit closer to the front lines of action with my co-workers, while at the same time increasing the capacity of my organization in general. In my eyes, it's a win-win. Please read the project goals and objectives and the project justification for more information about this exciting development in my life.

The standard billboards of President Nazarbayev, his strategy for Kazakhstan's development, and his political party, Nur Otan, have all been replaced this week by the cute tiger mascot of the Asian Winter Olympic Games.

The what?

Yes, the Asian Winter Olympic Games, which have been held for years and years are currently taking place at select sites across Kazakhstan. I'll confess, I had no idea such a thing even existed before I came to Kazakhstan. For those of you who know me well, you can bet your bottom dollar that I am trying to score a t-shirt...

In other news, having Tess has a roommate has opened up my eyes to the daily joys of the life of a teacher in Kazakhstan. Like my TEFL Volunteer friends in Kaz 21, Tess is molding young minds through interactive teaching methods and a rigorous and unrelenting demand for class participation, the combination of which is sometimes quite humorous.

For example, last week Tess was conducting a lesson in which her students were asked to draw their ideal superhero and then explain (in English) what superpowers this hero would use to save the world. One of the students decided to draw Abraham Lincoln holding the Constitution of the United States. Naturally, I am in agreement that the premier document of freedom, justice, and equality is enough to stave off the evils around the world (plus a little military industrial complex, har har), but this was not, come to find out, Abe's superpower.

No, no, no, dear old Abe also had an army of black people at his disposal, drawn in the background. Whether or not this army was emancipated by Abe, I am not sure, and their surly demeanor and rough and tumble presence in the drawing reminded me of a cross between Mike Tyson and a fully trained Blackwater special-opp fighter. Vengeance and skill.

The best part about the whole thing is that Abe, in addition to the army of black people, had a trusty sidekick at his side. And who other to be the sidekick than George Bush #2? I know, I know, it was Obama who was compared to Lincoln, not Bush, and we all know that Bush had some shortcomings which would most likely preclude him from superhero consideration or status...even as the lesser important sidekick.

This is why George Bush was drawn as a pile of poop. And (this is only guesswork on my part), the poop could fling itself at any Axis of Evil, as the case may be, sticking with such insatiable determination until the arch-enemy was simply confused into submission.

Come on now, that's funny. Step aside Batman, there's a new favorite superhero in town.

A couple months ago, I wrote a grant to the Kingdom of Norway. At the time, I hardly anticipated the grant being approved, mostly because they were seeking proposals written in Russian (a task I am still woefully unqualified to complete). Nevertheless, I thought I would throw the dice because hey, I wasn't expecting that European Commission grant to be approved and look how that turned out!

After a bit of back and forth with the grant manager, we decided that I could submit the application in English without a guarantee that the review committee would be proficient enough to understand the ins and outs of the language. Sure, why not, I thought, and with a day to go before the deadline, I wrote my proposal.

Thus far, all of the grants I have submitted have been under the auspices of my NGO, Credo. That is to say, the proposals are projects that Credo will execute. The Norwegian Grant is a completely different basket of eggs, in that the registered NGO on file with the proposal is named ARGO, located in Almaty. In short, I wrote this proposal hoping to get funds for an idea I have been nurturing for over a year, dealing in particular with the shortcomings/misunderstandings/lack of feedback mechanisms regarding international development as a system, and NGOs in Kazakhstan as a product of that system.

Pay dirt.

The grant was approved and $15K has been transferred to ARGO, one of the primary project partners I am working with, in addition to KIMEP, the Kazakhstan Institute of Management, Economics, and Strategic Research (www.kimep.kz). How did I make contacts at these places when I live in Karaganda, a 20 hour train-ride away from Almaty? For starters, the professional network of serious players on the field of development is not that big and Peace Corps already has a lot of contacts dangling out and about for the taking. But mostly, I'm building on a project which was started by a Kaz 20 volunteer and I'm picking up where she left off, so to speak.

To learn more about the basic description of the project need and the rudimentary project components, please click. Obviously, Credo's assistance and expertise in this area is critical in a lot of ways, but I'm treating this project more like a "secondary assignment" than my primary assignments at the office. Soon, you will be able to follow 12 Insights into Development online, view last year's products, and monitor from afar the discussions about development in Kazakhstan. After all, where do you think USAID gets its money?

Well, "From the American People", of course.

**Please re-read my posts "Chicken or Egg", "Color Inside the Lines", "Efficiency vs Effectiveness", and "The Round Table Effect" for a theoretical discussion of what prompted me to pursue such a project.

45-Kids Peeing-

Children have small bladders, this I know. In America, we solve this problem by putting public restrooms all over the place, where the opportunity to pee is not only free, but it comes with a standard amount of toilet paper and then a place to wash/dry your hands. In Kazakhstan, this is not so. There are few public restrooms, and all of them are for a fee. That's right. You have to pay to pee, and usually you're paying to pee at an abominable location. Mothers do not dare expend the energy to 1) find a public restroom and 2) waste money so their child can relieve himself/herself. Thus, kids pee on the street, near the street, in the ditch, against a building, at the bus stop, on the train, and anywhere else where the urge strikes. Of course, this is only little kids, usually 5 and under, but I'm sure the teenagers have their own system going in the shadows. The first time I saw a mother pull down the pants of her toddler, hold his wee-wee while he relieved himself, shake it off for him, and then pull his pants back up, I was a little taken aback. Now, it's just normal. As is saying "wee-wee", haha.

44- Babushkas on the Bus-

Babushkas are a topic all to themselves. "Babushka" is the Russian word for "grandma", but it can be applied loosely in some situations to refer to any woman who dresses like an old lady, wears boots that are fat and unfashionable, and refuses to tame the frizzyness on top of her head. Sometimes, "babushka" can be used to describe, well, me. Haha. But usually it signifies an old woman, and old women are an entirely different breed here in Kazakhstan than in America. Old women are mobile, and they love to ride the bus. And when they get on the bus, you must relinquish your seat and help them take your place. This means that a lot of grandmas are sitting, while all the younger people are standing. Normal? Sure. The best part about the babushkas on the bus is that they have self-designated themselves as the protector of bags and children. It is not out of the ordinary for a grandma to snatch at your bags, or your child, plop said belongings on her lap, and then feverishly hold onto them amid the jostling of the bus. And they can't be deterred! I've just come to accept that when I give up my seat for a grandma, she will demand that I let her hold my bag for me, never mind how heavy it may be.

43- Tardiness-

America is a culture of "on time". We have watches, we have alarm clocks, we have day planners, we have administrative assistants who remind us of our daily obligations, etc. Knowing the time, and being on time, is so ingrained in our culture that when someone ASKS us the time on the street, a popular quip is to say, "Time for you to get a watch!". In America, time is money, and all things should start and end on time. In Kazakhstan, time is more of a fluid concept. A meeting that is supposed to start at 10, will likely start at 10:30 and this is nothing to fret about. In fact, this is expected. The only thing that seems to run on time is the train. Everything else will be tardy, and if you are tardy, all will be forgiven.

42- Tea and Cognac-

Before coming to Kazakhstan, I hated tea. I had began dabbling in the sweet flavored teas that my university offered in the campus store, but other than that, tea was a foreign concept to me. I wouldn't touch hot tea with a 10 foot pole. Now, I drink it like it's going out of style. Which, of course, it isn't. Tea is central to the culture here, and my coworkers and I drink tea together at least 2 times a day. In Kazakhstan, drinking tea is a huge part of the business culture. Important decisions, organizational or otherwise, are usually discussed over tea. Black tea. Strong, black tea. And in the moments when tea is just not cutting it, cognac is the beverage of choice. We drink cognac for a little pick me up, for the beginnings of the flu, or just because. If there was a social event that lacked either tea or cognac, the event would be an utter failure. Without exception.

41- Bus Tickets-

I have an obscene amount of little bus tickets in my life. Every time I get on the bus and pay my 50 tenge fare, I receive a paper ticket that serves as proof of purchase, should the bus-checkers get on the bus to sniff out the passengers who didn't pay. And I hold onto this ticket on the off chance that the police will actually search the bus, which has only happened, like, once. So I put the tickets in my pockets, in my backpack, in my jacket, and then I forget about them. Well, I remember them when I find them on my floor, on my desk, in the wash, and everywhere else in my apartment that you can think of. I'm constantly picking up after my bus tickets and myself. It became such a problem that I decided to place a bag by the door, and I make myself empty my pockets of bus tickets every time I walk in. I feel like if the city placed more garbage cans by bus stops, the general population would also dispose of the paper tickets instead of throwing them on the ground.

***Please see my disclaimer located in the top-right corner of my blog.

For those of you not on my Christmas card mailing list, here is my Holiday Letter for the close of 2010. Additionally, I would like to give a huge thank you to everyone who mailed me a Christmas card, holiday letter, or package. Richard, Sue, and the McCauleys (plus Olivia)- you should know that your effort to make me feel special for the holidays definitely paid off. To you I give an even bigger thank you. And Mom, don't feel left out, your package was of course my favorite due to the s'mores maker and necessary ingredients. Yes, world, there is such a thing as a s'mores maker that does not require campfire. Who knew? Naturally, my Mom did.

Holiday Letter 2010