more observations...

It’s a rather rainy, dreary day here in Almaty—a good day to do some housecleaning, and to sip tea and reflect on life over here. I’ve had to adopt some new habits, and break others. For the most part, they’ve been positive changes—although I’m going to have to break the habit of (over)indulging in the wonderful, fresh bread that costs pennies at any of the shops in town. A few of the adjustments and observations on life here….

It is necessary to go to the grocery store every few days to see what is available, because the inventory changes. Having bought a particular item there in the past is no guarantee of future availability—especially if it is towards the end of the month.

The $8 bottle of Old Tblisi is good, but so is the $2 bottle of local “Bakhus” (Bacchus) red wine—even if the vineyard owner is Armenian (this last comment is from my Russian instructor, who has very intriguing views on different nationalities—especially the Uzbeks). As a note—red wine costs more here than white wine. I haven’t figured out the reason for this difference, though.

You need to be careful with most brands of Kazakh wine—they generally come in 3 grades: undrinkable, not terrible, and vaguely palatable. Bakhus is one of the exceptions. Maybe because the vineyard owner is Armenian.

There are two standards of clean—clean, and clean enough. Clean is an impossible goal—there is so much dust everywhere that you would have to clean continuously. These standards particularly apply to laundry. It takes about 1 ½ hours to get clothes “clean enough” in the agitator. However, laundry is hung outside to dry, and immediately begins to collect more dust before you bring it inside to put away.

It is necessary to clean the bathtub after finishing the last load of laundry. I no longer have to drain the water into buckets, since I bought a ridiculously expensive—$7—drain cover. The water now drains into the tub, but so does all of the dirt and grime from the clothes. Once the water has drained away, there is always a layer of sediment left behind.

Soda tastes different over here—it’s made with a different type of sugar than we are used to in the States. I really don’t like the taste, so with the relatively rare exceptions of Diet Coke and Schweppes Ginger Ale (imported from the US), I’ve given up on soda. Plus, I don’t want to have to carry heavy bottles of liquids back to my apartment—and up 4 flights of stairs.

Potato chips are readily available, but most stores sell out of Lays fairly quickly (and a small bag costs about $2.50). The other brands are all flavored chips, which I have never liked. So, as with soda, chips have pretty much been scratched off of the menu. If profits for Frito-Lay and Coke fall, you’ll know why.

I don’t like taking gypsy cabs, and prefer not to take buses during the day when they are most crowded—probably because I have a strange (?) aversion to being groped by complete strangers. If I want to go anyplace, I will usually walk. It is great exercise, too—I use the time for thinking and reflection, and it really helps me to keep my perspective and enjoy being here.

Now that it is getting colder, it might be a little more difficult to keep up with the walking, but several of my friends and I have decided to take belly dancing lessons. It should be absolutely hysterical, since none of us are coordinated. At all! Imagine trying to follow directions in Russian, too. Lessons are very popular, although I have a suspicion that at the times we will be able to go, it will be mostly babyshkas (grandmothers). Sarah, Amelia, and I could go pretty much any time, but Inga works at the consulate and actually has a set schedule (what is that??? It’s been so long since I’ve had one that I’ve forgotten).

Heat and hot water are unpredictable. Fortunately, the Arasan Baths are less than ½ mile from my house—they have Turkish, Russian, and Finnish baths there (although the Turkish baths have not worked since I’ve been in Almaty, and no one knows why—including the employees). When there is no hot water, at least it is possible to go to the baths in the afternoon or evening. However, I’ve garnered some strange looks at the baths, as it is apparently extremely unusual and rather risqué for a woman to have a tattoo here—especially a (small) world map on one’s back.

Clothes shopping is extremely intimidating, and not something that I’m anxious to do on a regular basis. The stores are ridiculously expensive, so the only real option is to go to the bazaar. However, the idea of a changing room is non-existent over here. Instead, someone holds up a sheet while you try on the article of clothing behind it. Of course, people here are generally of a shorter stature, and they are not always able to provide the sort of privacy that would be desirable when hordes of strange people are walking by and leering into the stall to see what is happening. And everyone has to offer an opinion, too. It’s absolute insanity, and I’m trying to avoid it as long as possible. However, with all of the walking and other exercising I’ve been doing, my clothes are all several sizes too large and I will soon have to brave the bazaar. Who knew that clothes shopping could be so traumatic???

Speaking of clothes, I will probably have to buy long-legged jeans over here. Compared to the majority of Kazakh women, I have extremely long legs. Stop laughing, Dad!!!! I’m not exaggerating—women here seem to have very long torsos, but very short legs. I’m going to enjoy this experience while it lasts, since when I return home I will once again have to buy jeans and roll them up at the cuffs.

Well, that’s it for now. The weather has cleared up some, and I need to get out of the house and walk for a while.