The Surreal Life, Part II

As mentioned earlier, today is Kazakhstan’s Independence Day. The fireworks have just begun, and my windows are rattling from their force. I’m only a ten minute walk to Old Square, where the celebrations are centered, so the noise is not surprising. I had to take a brief break from writing, though, because I’ve been laughing so hard. Every time the fireworks go off, so do all the car alarms. There is a brief lull while the city organizers reload the fireworks, then it starts all over. It’s been going on for about 15 minutes, and will probably recur all night long. I’m glad I brought earplugs with me, although I have nothing schedule in the morning and it might be interesting to see how late this goes on.

Back to last Thursday, though. After I left the conference at the university, I was able to head home for about 1 ½ hours before I had to leave for the US Consulate. The former ambassador to Finland (under the Clinton administration) was speaking at the consulate that evening, and all of the Fulbrighters were invited. Of course, when I asked the Peace Corps volunteers at the university if they would be there, they were a little peeved. Apparently they had been asked to give out candy on Hallowe’en, but had not been invited to the evening’s discussion. Oops! I’ll have to remember not to mention the lectures in the future. Anyway, I had to leave the house about 5:30pm to get to the consulate in time for the lecture—just enough time to grab something to eat, shower, and relax for about 30 minutes. I like walking to the embassy rather than taking the bus (in traffic, it takes longer on the bus anyway). It’s about a 50 minute walk due south from my apartment, which means that it’s uphill the entire way. In the evening, it is beautiful since you can see the sunset striking the western slopes of the Tien Shan Mountains. It almost makes you glad for the pollution, which amplifies the dramatic effects of the sunset.

As I was going to be at the consulate rather late, I did not take my camera with me. The area around the consulate is a rather upscale microdistrict, and the odds of being robbed at night are significantly higher than where I live (rents are around $3-$4000 per month near the consulate, which makes it more attractive to pickpockets and the like). I wish I had, though. Around 6:15pm (the peak of the sunset) I arrived at the city theater. It’s a beautiful neoclassical building located at the top of a wide boulevard. There are parks on both sides, and a large fountain out in front. The theater opens each night at 6:30, so there were people strolling out in the ploshad’ (square) in front of the building, dressed in their best clothes (this is also a country in which you can never be overdressed for anything, so imagine what it must have looked like!!). I walked along the front of the square, and then cut through one of the parks to continue to the consulate. I was feeling rather pleased with myself. It had been a productive morning at the conference, I was heading off to meet a former ambassador, and also needed to change several times before I left my apartment since everything I had tried on had been too big. Definitely time for a reality check! Immediately after entering the park, I had to stop and pretend I was having breathing problems and needed my inhaler. Just imagine four men sitting on a park bench next to the theater, dressed in polar bear costumes. Additional polar bear heads (no costumes, just the heads) were on the bench next to them. And each of them had a bottle of Baltika 9 in their paws—Baltika is a popular beer, which comes in strengths of 0 (no alcohol) to 9 (incredibly strong). I have no idea why they were there—they weren’t part of the evening’s production at the theater—but it was one of the funniest things I’ve seen in a while. I laughed the entire way to the consulate, so much so that I had to fix my makeup before entering the building, since my mascara had smeared as a result of the tears running down my face.

My fellow Fulbrighters (Sarah and Amelia) were just as amused as I was, although I think they thought I was exaggerating. A few days later, though, they called me from the bus. Four men in polar bear costumes had just climbed onto the bus and were pretending to be conductors. We’ve been laughing for days about it, although no one else here thinks it’s funny or has any idea why people would dress as polar bears. I asked my American Studies students whether they knew anything about it, and they had no idea. Of course, we had just been discussing potential topics for next semester and they wanted to know more about American humor since they really don’t understand it…..maybe that’s why they didn’t think polar bears were funny and I thought they were ridiculously hysterical.

As to my students—they really are wonderful to work with. They have been doing presentations in class (they are presenting different cultural aspects of regions of the US), and are a joy to listen to. They are so excited about what they are doing, and also that they have been given complete free reign to explore their own interests. As a result, the presentations are wonderful. Afterwards, they all want to have a group picture taken with me, and to have an individual picture with me. One student in particular—and I have to admit, she is one of my favorite students although I can’t let that be known in class—was nearly in tears because she didn’t have enough time to demonstrate all she had done., since there just wasn’t enough time. Afterwards, she wrote me to let me know how disappointed she was in her performance (I had already given her a 5, which would be an A in the US). She’s a wonderful student, who clearly loves learning and applying what she has learned. Apparently, she has been calling home (she’s from Kostanai, in the north of the country) and telling her family all about her American teacher. It’s one of those situations in which you suddenly realize the weight of responsibility you have with your students. Over the course of the semester, I have become one of her role models. She doesn’t quite fit the typical model of a young Kazakh woman—she strikes me as more individualistic and independent, which can also be problematic for her since this is an extremely traditional society. I’ve arranged to meet with her outside of the university so that we can talk about how she is doing in class (I don’t have an office on campus, and don’t want other students to interrupt—which would be the case at the university). One student like this one makes up for 50 disruptive students. I just want to make sure that I don’t make a misstep. At times like this, I am so very thankful for the many opportunities available to me as an American. I know that I can accomplish anything I want to, and have few societal restrictions placed on what I can do. It’s incredibly difficult for me to know what the future likely has in store for students like this one. At the same time, it is incentive for me to keep doing what I do, to finish this degree so that I can work in some capacity to help change these situations. If I ever start to forget, the pictures from this class will remind me.