It occurs to me that--while I have often described the situation in Almaty--I have failed to mention a favorite area just outside of the city. Medeu is about 20 minutes away from the center of the city (as long as you don’t encounter a probka-or traffic jam), and it can be hard to believe that you are so close to such a major metropolitan area. The area is actually a large park--although some people do live there--and is nestled right at the base of the Tien Shan mountains. I love taking the bus there midweek, and enjoying the fresh clean air. When possible, I also enjoy some hiking--but always being careful to stay away from the less populated areas. There is a ski resort (Chimbulak) further up the hill from Medeu, but the buses don’t run that far. However, there are cabs from Medeu--and I’m hoping to get to Chimbulak fairly soon. But I don’t want to go by myself, so will wait for my friends to accompany me.
When you first get off of the bus in Medeu, you encounter a massive Soviet-era building. It is actually an ice skating rink--and where Soviet athletes practiced, once upon a time. There are the requisite bas-relief sculptures of speed skaters above the entrance to the rink. The ice itself is rather different from skating rinks in the US, or those that I have encountered in Europe. After walking up a steep flight of stairs, you enter the rink itself--which is built right into the side of the mountain. There is no separation between the ice and the spectator area. It is just a large open area of ice with some snow along the edges. No zambonis, no guard rail, nothing. People fly by on their skates, while in random areas others practice their figure skating.
I went to Medeu on Wednesday--not to skate or hike, but just to breathe the clean mountain air for a while. When I entered the stadium, I could not help but laugh. I was walking up the steps to the rink--and was directly underneath those bas relief sculptures of speed skaters--when a new song began blaring through the stereo system. Yes, it was “Winds of Change”--that late 80s/early 90s anthem to the fall of the Berlin Wall and end of communism. I had to stop and just enjoy the moment.
Once I entered the stadium, I found a seat near the edge of the ice and just enjoyed watching the skaters and the music that was playing. How often do you get to hear Paula Abdul on the radio anymore? Particularly when it is her classic (?) song “Rush Rush” (Please don’t ask why I know the song. Some things just should better left unsaid). Halfway through the song, the radio announcer cut into the music to announce that the artist (?) was the famous choreographer for the Los Angeles Lakers cheerleaders. It was one of those delightfully surreal moments when all you can do is laugh. And make sure to write it down in your journal, so you don’t forget it later.
There was quite a mix of people skating that afternoon--families with small children, would-be hockey players, the obligatory drunk man staggering around on skates, and adolescents trying to impress members of the opposite sex by demonstrating their prowess on the ice. One in particular caught my attention--a young man doing everything he could to impress another. He would skate around the object of his affections, trying out dance moves and generally trying to be as suave as possible. To no avail. She was clearly not interested or impressed. To make the situation even funnier, the young man was a doppelganger for a neighbor from the same building as my sister and me when we were at UMASS. It took me a minute to realize why he looked so familiar--but it suddenly struck me that he was the image of Kevin Messina. Had Kevin been even slightly coordinated. (You can stop laughing now, Catherine!).
When I left the rink, I walked around surrounding area for a while. While doing so, I came across the bus for the Kazakh national speed skating team (complete with logos from the last Olympics in Turino). Unfortunately, there was no one on or around the bus--that would have been pretty cool. At least I was able to take some pictures--which I will hopefully be able to post sometime in the near future. Or at least in the next few months.
Sunday, December 2, 2007
Thoughts on this past week
The passage below is part of blog by Jon Katz, who writes about life on “Bedlam Farm” in upstate New York. He was writing about the different types of loss, and how we react to it when it happens. These words seem particularly appropriate this week, and have helped to deal with the feelings of loss caused by the violation of my home and the realization of personal vulnerability. Each day is a little easier than the last, though. And each day, I realize how incredibly fortunate I am to have such an amazing support network of friends and family. That knowledge is the ‘something better’ that Katz writes about.
“I think loss is best handled slowly, in bits and pieces, with deep breaths, by taking one walk, talking to one close friend, walking dogs, reading bits and pieces of a good book, or poem. Journaling helps, in that loss is recorded, dealt with noted, as it should be. Acknowledging the loss to yourself and to others is, I think, also good. I think it is somewhat appropriate to be embarrassed by loss, otherwise, we would be drowning in it, and stories and laments about it. Loss is an inevitable part of life, even if it surprises us, overwhelms us, and hurts. Like pain it's a mystery, since a benevolent God wouldn't allow us to suffer it. And, I suppose, it is a private thing, since even if we are fortunate to know people willing to share our loss, or help us with it, it is also something that only we can feel, that sense of pain, of having a piece cut out of us, of having lost something we may never find again. Sometimes people deny loss, thinking of it as temporary, or are reflexively reassured by people telling them things will be fine, what was lost will inevitably be recovered, regained, replaced. I'm not sure. Sometimes what is lost is gone for good, in one way or another. I do believe that loss is a gift, like most things you feel, that opens us up and leads us to different places. And I tell friends who have suffered a loss, this: toughness doesn't come from denying loss, but from the ability to think and see beyond it, to imagine a hole filled in with something else, a time and space where will inevitably fade and soften and be replaced by something else, if we are lucky, something better.”
“I think loss is best handled slowly, in bits and pieces, with deep breaths, by taking one walk, talking to one close friend, walking dogs, reading bits and pieces of a good book, or poem. Journaling helps, in that loss is recorded, dealt with noted, as it should be. Acknowledging the loss to yourself and to others is, I think, also good. I think it is somewhat appropriate to be embarrassed by loss, otherwise, we would be drowning in it, and stories and laments about it. Loss is an inevitable part of life, even if it surprises us, overwhelms us, and hurts. Like pain it's a mystery, since a benevolent God wouldn't allow us to suffer it. And, I suppose, it is a private thing, since even if we are fortunate to know people willing to share our loss, or help us with it, it is also something that only we can feel, that sense of pain, of having a piece cut out of us, of having lost something we may never find again. Sometimes people deny loss, thinking of it as temporary, or are reflexively reassured by people telling them things will be fine, what was lost will inevitably be recovered, regained, replaced. I'm not sure. Sometimes what is lost is gone for good, in one way or another. I do believe that loss is a gift, like most things you feel, that opens us up and leads us to different places. And I tell friends who have suffered a loss, this: toughness doesn't come from denying loss, but from the ability to think and see beyond it, to imagine a hole filled in with something else, a time and space where will inevitably fade and soften and be replaced by something else, if we are lucky, something better.”
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Thank you
So many people have sent letters and called these last few days. It means more than you know. Thank you. I will try to respond to each and every one of you as quickly as possible--right now, I'm using an older laptop that my landlords loaned to me. It doesn't connect to the Internet, but at least I can write letters and bring them to the internet cafe on my flashdrive (which was somehow overlooked).
Things are going a little better here in Almaty. I would up spending yesterday morning scrubbing my house from top to bottom, then went to the Russian/Finnish baths for the afternoon. Life definitely looks better after a massage/facial/manicure, and a few hours in the sauna. Now I'm getting ready to go to Medeu to look up at the mountains. I'll start back at work next week--but for now, I need a little time to process everything.
Things are going a little better here in Almaty. I would up spending yesterday morning scrubbing my house from top to bottom, then went to the Russian/Finnish baths for the afternoon. Life definitely looks better after a massage/facial/manicure, and a few hours in the sauna. Now I'm getting ready to go to Medeu to look up at the mountains. I'll start back at work next week--but for now, I need a little time to process everything.
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Cops and Robbers
There have been many positive experiences here in Almaty, but as with anything, there is also a negative side. Yesterday, I discovered this aspect for the first time when I came home after a short shopping trip to find that my house had been robbed. All of my electronic equipment, as well as some clothing, 2 suitcases, and a few other things were missing. As they say here in Almaty, kashmar--or nightmare. On the bright side, no one was hurt. My landlady came right over from work and we spent the afternoon dealing with the police and the embassy.
I must say, it was an interesting experience dealing with the police. I was called a criminal, asked repeatedly for the names of the men that I must have brought into my house (because Kazakh men apparently are irresistible. Must have missed that memo!), and generally treated as if the theft was my fault. While waiting for the embassy officials--because the police legally cannot speak with me without proper representation--the police officers sat on the couch in the living room and read the newspaper. Of course, this is the room that was completely destroyed by the thieves--they had to be shamed into knocking on doors in the building to see if anyone had seen anything.
While the robbery was upsetting (something of an understatement), at least I have many friends here in the city. Word quickly spread and people called and stopped by all afternoon and evening. It was nearly 12 hours later when I had my apartment to myself for the first time since returning home.
I will try to keep in touch as much as possible--but it will be a little more difficult until I can find a way to replace my computer. But possessions can be replaced--the important thing is that no one was hurt.
I must say, it was an interesting experience dealing with the police. I was called a criminal, asked repeatedly for the names of the men that I must have brought into my house (because Kazakh men apparently are irresistible. Must have missed that memo!), and generally treated as if the theft was my fault. While waiting for the embassy officials--because the police legally cannot speak with me without proper representation--the police officers sat on the couch in the living room and read the newspaper. Of course, this is the room that was completely destroyed by the thieves--they had to be shamed into knocking on doors in the building to see if anyone had seen anything.
While the robbery was upsetting (something of an understatement), at least I have many friends here in the city. Word quickly spread and people called and stopped by all afternoon and evening. It was nearly 12 hours later when I had my apartment to myself for the first time since returning home.
I will try to keep in touch as much as possible--but it will be a little more difficult until I can find a way to replace my computer. But possessions can be replaced--the important thing is that no one was hurt.
Saturday, November 24, 2007
Picture from Thanksgiving dinner--and a real apple pie
I’ve just come back from a real Thanksgiving dinner with some friends—turkey, stuffing, cranberry sauce, and the rest. Even in Kazakhstan, it is possible to celebrate in true American fashion. My contribution was the apple pie. Unfortunately, we forgot to take a picture before cutting into the pie, but this picture should give an idea of what it looked like. The design was rather tongue in cheek—and something of a joke among the Fulbrighters (a “C” surrounded by rays of sunlight). It is surprisingly difficult to bake a pie in an oven without a temperature gauge, and also in a square pan rather than the usual circular shape (the dough drapes differently in a square pan). Although I understand that baking the pie was easier than roasting the turkey. Stoves over here are rather small, and in order to keep the oven door completely closed, it was apparently necessary to prop the kitchen table against the oven. Over here, ingenuity is essential!
Tomorrow evening it is off to the drama theater for a Russian play. I don’t know what it is, yet—but it should be interesting. We’ll see how good my Russian is (or isn’t). Then on Tuesday, I will likely be going to see the classic Shakespearean play “Gamlet”. Right now, it is time to head off to bed and sleep off the effects of too much dessert. I’ll have to get up early tomorrow to start walking off all the pie…but it was worth it!
Tomorrow evening it is off to the drama theater for a Russian play. I don’t know what it is, yet—but it should be interesting. We’ll see how good my Russian is (or isn’t). Then on Tuesday, I will likely be going to see the classic Shakespearean play “Gamlet”. Right now, it is time to head off to bed and sleep off the effects of too much dessert. I’ll have to get up early tomorrow to start walking off all the pie…but it was worth it!
Friday, November 23, 2007
Thanksgiving
This year has been the first time that I have been both away from family and outside the US for Thanksgiving. While I do miss all of the traditions and the people, this week has been an extraordinary opportunity to reflect on what Thanksgiving really means. The holiday is really what you make of it. For me, it has been about spending time with several groups of teenagers, sharing stories of the US and trying to encourage them to explore opportunities to expand their horizons beyond thoughts of their immediate future. Exhausting, draining, exhilarating, and wonderful all at the same time.
Along with the other Fulbright students in Almaty, I was asked to travel to Taldykorgan (the regional capital) to speak to a group of teenagers living in an orphanage. We were presenting material on the educational system in the US, but were really there to provide encouragement and support for these teens who have been given few opportunities to think of a future beyond leaving the orphanage. Most of these kids are not orphans in the true sense of the word—instead, they were left at the orphanage by teenage parents, families who did not want more children, or parents with substance abuse problems. While it was apparent that they are well taken care of physically, there is little support and encouragement for these teens to think beyond their immediate future. If this group follows the well-established path of those who have already left the orphanage, many of the girls will marry young in order to have a family of their own—and likely be divorced within 2-3 years. Lacking connections and the requisite education, the young men will drift to the areas of town where the unemployed gather, hoping that someone will drive by and offer them a temporary job as a day laborer.
After a six hour trip to Taldykorgan (a distance of only about 300km), we arrived at the school where we were to speak. Most of the afternoon was spent giving presentations and spending time with the teens. I don’t know whether our talks inspired any of the teens to attempt the long and difficult process of changing their situation—but I hope that we did something positive. If nothing else, the students will remember the day that four American university students came to spend the day with them. A change from their usual routine, and maybe something that will make them smile in memory.
The following day, the four of us spoke at different middle/high schools around the city. The topic was the same, but the audience was very dissimilar to the day before. We were met at our hotel and driven to the schools—where we were met with great pomp and circumstance. There wasn’t the opportunity to interact with students individually—in my case, I was escorted personally around the school by the rector and was proudly shown all of the English language classrooms. It was clear that my role had changed—rather than being there as a mentor, I was instead an official representative of the US and treated accordingly. After speaking at the schools, it was time to drive back to Almaty. Fortunately, the return trip only took 4 hours (since we missed the traffic in Almaty). The trip was short and mentally exhausting, and I would leave again in the morning to start it all over again.
After returning home, I barely had 12 hours to prepare for my next public speaking event. And that 12 hours included time to sleep. Previously, I had been asked by the consulate to speak at the National Children’s Library in Almaty, describing Thanksgiving traditions in the US. With preparations for an early Thanksgiving dinner, as well as the trip to Taldykorgan, there hadn’t been any time to think of what to say—so I was a little worried. It does help being from Cape Cod, though. A few postcards of the area where the Pilgrims landed, a map, and the memory of Glenn Miller’s lecture on the human geography of the cranberry industry made all of the difference! The students were an incredibly audience, and my five minute presentation ended up being nearly thirty minutes. Afterwards, several of them remained behind to congratulate me on the Thanksgiving holiday (it is customary here to offer your congratulations for holidays, birthdays, etc.). Then, while drinking tea with the library director, the students came back to ask if I would come to their school to speak with them again. Naturally I agreed—their enthusiasm is irresistible! As soon as they left the room, they let out a loud cheer—it was one of those moments that I know I will never forget.
Tomorrow (Saturday), I will have Thanksgiving dinner with friends. It will be a real Thanksgiving dinner—complete with turkey, stuffing, and cranberry sauce. As I sit in my kitchen writing this update, an apple pie is baking in the oven and an empty pie shell is cooling on the counter. So, some things are just like home. And the recent outreach activities really make me appreciate how many things I have to be thankful for.
Along with the other Fulbright students in Almaty, I was asked to travel to Taldykorgan (the regional capital) to speak to a group of teenagers living in an orphanage. We were presenting material on the educational system in the US, but were really there to provide encouragement and support for these teens who have been given few opportunities to think of a future beyond leaving the orphanage. Most of these kids are not orphans in the true sense of the word—instead, they were left at the orphanage by teenage parents, families who did not want more children, or parents with substance abuse problems. While it was apparent that they are well taken care of physically, there is little support and encouragement for these teens to think beyond their immediate future. If this group follows the well-established path of those who have already left the orphanage, many of the girls will marry young in order to have a family of their own—and likely be divorced within 2-3 years. Lacking connections and the requisite education, the young men will drift to the areas of town where the unemployed gather, hoping that someone will drive by and offer them a temporary job as a day laborer.
After a six hour trip to Taldykorgan (a distance of only about 300km), we arrived at the school where we were to speak. Most of the afternoon was spent giving presentations and spending time with the teens. I don’t know whether our talks inspired any of the teens to attempt the long and difficult process of changing their situation—but I hope that we did something positive. If nothing else, the students will remember the day that four American university students came to spend the day with them. A change from their usual routine, and maybe something that will make them smile in memory.
The following day, the four of us spoke at different middle/high schools around the city. The topic was the same, but the audience was very dissimilar to the day before. We were met at our hotel and driven to the schools—where we were met with great pomp and circumstance. There wasn’t the opportunity to interact with students individually—in my case, I was escorted personally around the school by the rector and was proudly shown all of the English language classrooms. It was clear that my role had changed—rather than being there as a mentor, I was instead an official representative of the US and treated accordingly. After speaking at the schools, it was time to drive back to Almaty. Fortunately, the return trip only took 4 hours (since we missed the traffic in Almaty). The trip was short and mentally exhausting, and I would leave again in the morning to start it all over again.
After returning home, I barely had 12 hours to prepare for my next public speaking event. And that 12 hours included time to sleep. Previously, I had been asked by the consulate to speak at the National Children’s Library in Almaty, describing Thanksgiving traditions in the US. With preparations for an early Thanksgiving dinner, as well as the trip to Taldykorgan, there hadn’t been any time to think of what to say—so I was a little worried. It does help being from Cape Cod, though. A few postcards of the area where the Pilgrims landed, a map, and the memory of Glenn Miller’s lecture on the human geography of the cranberry industry made all of the difference! The students were an incredibly audience, and my five minute presentation ended up being nearly thirty minutes. Afterwards, several of them remained behind to congratulate me on the Thanksgiving holiday (it is customary here to offer your congratulations for holidays, birthdays, etc.). Then, while drinking tea with the library director, the students came back to ask if I would come to their school to speak with them again. Naturally I agreed—their enthusiasm is irresistible! As soon as they left the room, they let out a loud cheer—it was one of those moments that I know I will never forget.
Tomorrow (Saturday), I will have Thanksgiving dinner with friends. It will be a real Thanksgiving dinner—complete with turkey, stuffing, and cranberry sauce. As I sit in my kitchen writing this update, an apple pie is baking in the oven and an empty pie shell is cooling on the counter. So, some things are just like home. And the recent outreach activities really make me appreciate how many things I have to be thankful for.
picture from Monday
There have been several comments on the picture I posted yesterday. For the record, I am NOT living on a secret commune in western Kansas, contemplating my naval. The picture was taken on the road between Taldykorgan and Almaty. However, there is a local term for the scenery in the picture. It is called the “Kansas Steppe”.
Also, if you click on the picture from the blog itself, you can see more detail.
Also, if you click on the picture from the blog itself, you can see more detail.
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