According to the locals, November was outright balmy, and really, it wasn't that bad. In early December we transitioned to what I am used to as "regular winter", which is the 15-35 degrees F range. That too was probably "balmy". Last week the temperatures really dropped, heralding the start of the real Kazakh winter. I still haven't figured out exactly how cold it is because I have yet to see a thermometer in this country. The locals don't really care exactly how cold it is and perhaps they actively don't want to know. I suppose the novelty of -30 C wears off after the first few years.
It hasn't gotten to be too bad yet and I don't think the temperatures have fallen much below zero degrees Fahrenheit. It's only the beginning, though. And yes, mom, I am already wearing thermal underwear. All that said, I have always liked winter and I want more. -40 degrees is about where Fahrenheit and Celsius meet each other so we might as well go all the way. I was promised miserable, freezing temperatures and I'll be disappointed if Zhez doesn't pull through.
Over the last week and half, Zhez has been blanketed with frequent but light snowfall and we probably have eight inches on the ground now, where it will stay until...April? We'll see. In any case, the snow has brought out an interesting development. From what I could tell from the summer, Kazakhs were never big on baby carriages and while they exist, there isn't exactly a suburban-mom-baby-stroller convention going on here. However, they are huge on "baby sleds". I see mothers dragging their 3-year-olds on tiny little sleds everywhere. Occasionally a man will come by dragging food or other random items on a big sled. The kids here are extremely sledding-deprived here, as you might expect from Children of the Steppe. Now that there's a little bit of snow, there are scores of little embankments up to and including snowed-over steppes to "magazines" (the identical convenience stores that make this country function) have been intentionally iced over and turned into pathetic little sledding hills. Better than nothing, I guess. But if those skiiers out West think it sucks in New England, they ought to come down here.
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Monday, December 15, 2008
A Sobering Thought
Drinking is a serious matter in Kazakhstan. I'd say too serious. Why? They don't have drinking games. Come on!
Not everyone in Kazakhstan drinks a lot and in fact many Kazakhs do not drink at all. However, the people who drink, drink a lot. Vodka is very cheap. As my sitemate Drew says, the cheapest stuff is fouler than you can imagine, but even the mid-tier vodka here is as good as higher-end vodka in America. I am a beer guy and while the local offerings are nothing special, they are much better than I had imagined. There's plenty of both and not much of anything else except for cognac.
Getting back to the original point, I had thought that a place like Kazakhstan with its long, cold, dark winters (sunrise is already after 9am) would be rife with drinking games to make the time go by until April. Sadly, I have been disappointed. I wasn't expecting to be greeted with a round of flipcup by my host family, but still -- there are no signs of anything anywhere.
This means only one thing. It's time to bring Dartmouth pong to Kazakhstan.
Wish me luck. I can't even convince the other volunteers.
Not everyone in Kazakhstan drinks a lot and in fact many Kazakhs do not drink at all. However, the people who drink, drink a lot. Vodka is very cheap. As my sitemate Drew says, the cheapest stuff is fouler than you can imagine, but even the mid-tier vodka here is as good as higher-end vodka in America. I am a beer guy and while the local offerings are nothing special, they are much better than I had imagined. There's plenty of both and not much of anything else except for cognac.
Getting back to the original point, I had thought that a place like Kazakhstan with its long, cold, dark winters (sunrise is already after 9am) would be rife with drinking games to make the time go by until April. Sadly, I have been disappointed. I wasn't expecting to be greeted with a round of flipcup by my host family, but still -- there are no signs of anything anywhere.
This means only one thing. It's time to bring Dartmouth pong to Kazakhstan.
Wish me luck. I can't even convince the other volunteers.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Food, Revisited
A while ago I pissed and moaned about the food here. It's true that Kazakh cuisine is pretty simple and lacks much of an imagination. However, my biggest problem has become clear to me over time. As much as I hate to say it (which actually isn't that much), my PST host mother was just a remarkably awful cook. I've had all the same dishes that she cooked since I've left Issyk and suddenly they are all decent. I think I'll write short posts about individual dishes at some point because some of them are pretty different, if nothing else.
I also received the Peace Corps Kazakhstan Cookbook in the mail. It provided a good view into food & vegetable availability too. This varies based on location in the country and city size, but it's a good rough guide. There's a decent variety in the summer, but the only reliably year-round items are apples, cabbage, potatoes, carrots, onions, and beets. I think other perishables can be found in Zhezkazgan in the winter, but they come a long way in non-refridgerated trucks so they are expensive and often not very good quality.
The PC cookbook is a pretty great resource to have, albeit one that I probably won't use for a while. It's pretty hard for any male PCV to defeat the notion that no matter what he says, there's absolutely no way he could possibly know the slightest thing about cooking. Members of my family sometimes work odd hours so it's not too rare that I eat by myself. In that case, my host mother becomes direly concerned that I will starve to death and goes to great lengths to show me how to turn on the electric stove top. Come on. But at this point it's become a joke although they never can quite let go of their instincts.
While my family is fantastic in every way, the only thing I've never really adjusted to is also related to the female Kazakh belief that all males are completely worthless in any sort of domestic sense (however, Kazakh males do not go to great lengths to dispel this theory). I can't so much as wander into the kitchen without my host mother or host sister getting up, following me in and asking if I am hungry. Only once or twice have I managed to sneak off to wash a dish myself and the few times I've even managed to come close to pouring myself a cup of tea, I've been received with utter bewilderment.
This obviously isn't a big problem, but it's interesting to see how neither side has acquiesced to the other culture's gender roles. Gender roles here are definitely more clearly defined than in America, but there's still a fair amount of wiggle room should a woman choose something off the beaten path. I'll keep on fighting because I don't think I'll ever feel that comfortable being waited on hand and foot, but I'm not sure I can win.
I also received the Peace Corps Kazakhstan Cookbook in the mail. It provided a good view into food & vegetable availability too. This varies based on location in the country and city size, but it's a good rough guide. There's a decent variety in the summer, but the only reliably year-round items are apples, cabbage, potatoes, carrots, onions, and beets. I think other perishables can be found in Zhezkazgan in the winter, but they come a long way in non-refridgerated trucks so they are expensive and often not very good quality.
The PC cookbook is a pretty great resource to have, albeit one that I probably won't use for a while. It's pretty hard for any male PCV to defeat the notion that no matter what he says, there's absolutely no way he could possibly know the slightest thing about cooking. Members of my family sometimes work odd hours so it's not too rare that I eat by myself. In that case, my host mother becomes direly concerned that I will starve to death and goes to great lengths to show me how to turn on the electric stove top. Come on. But at this point it's become a joke although they never can quite let go of their instincts.
While my family is fantastic in every way, the only thing I've never really adjusted to is also related to the female Kazakh belief that all males are completely worthless in any sort of domestic sense (however, Kazakh males do not go to great lengths to dispel this theory). I can't so much as wander into the kitchen without my host mother or host sister getting up, following me in and asking if I am hungry. Only once or twice have I managed to sneak off to wash a dish myself and the few times I've even managed to come close to pouring myself a cup of tea, I've been received with utter bewilderment.
This obviously isn't a big problem, but it's interesting to see how neither side has acquiesced to the other culture's gender roles. Gender roles here are definitely more clearly defined than in America, but there's still a fair amount of wiggle room should a woman choose something off the beaten path. I'll keep on fighting because I don't think I'll ever feel that comfortable being waited on hand and foot, but I'm not sure I can win.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Obama
Due to the presence of Russians, there are plenty of white people in Zhezkazgan, but nonetheless the three volunteers in the city stick out like a sore thumb -- in part because we may comprise the entire ex-pat community. Our obvious foreign-ness was summarized yesterday when I went to the post office f0r the first time. I walked up to the desk in the P/O box room and said hello to the lady, who obviously had never seen me before. Instead of questioning my identity or even asking what box, she reached into P/O box 18, handed me the contents, and resumed what she had been doing, all without saying a word. Well, that was easy. According to Robert, P/O box 18 gets every piece of English-language mail that comes to the city; if it is clearly labelled for another box, it is assumed a typo and given to us anyway.
When more talkative Kazakhstanis recognize that we are foreign, which happens frequently, there is usually a pretty standard set of questions whose lack of variety is limited by our language ability more than a lack of imagination on their part. It usually goes like this:
"Where are you from?"
"What are you doing here?"
"Where do you live?"
"Do you like Zhezkazgan?"
"Obama...he's good. What do you think about Obama?"
Talking American politics is a whole different ballgame here than it is in Europe. Kazakhstanis don't have a ton of knowledge about domestic American politics in part because they don't have the same international links that European society does, but mostly because the USA does not play a huge role in Kazakhstani foreign affairs. From what I can tell, most people know that (a)he's black and (b)he's not George Bush -- but most are unaware that he's not currently president. It's an interesting exercise in psychology that he can get universal approval from a society despite that society knowing virtually knowthing about him or his policies. I think Kazakhstan is far from unique on the world stage in this respect. I'm an Obamaphile but it's still slightly troubling to see the complete lack of reasoning behind a belief.
On the other hand, it's miles ahead of what it was like on the European hostel circuit during the Bush administration - especially because I've spent a fair amount of time in Eastern Europe when American travelers were more likely to be isolated. There's nothing worse than listening to a chorus of hypocritical coffeehouse Europeans bitching endlessly about everything under the sun. I became personally responsible for every decision and action of the US government and therefore became subject to knee-jerking groupthink of the worst kind -- even though I voted for the glorious John Kerry (sorry dad). Another one of my favorite things from this period were the Canadians who, to a man, had a maple leaf patch on their packs. They called it patriotism but it was clearly the "I'm not American so please don't even start with me" patch.
In any case, in over three months in Kazakhstan, I have yet to face even mild hostility over my nationality or anything else. The people here could teach most of the world a thing or two about hospitality.
When more talkative Kazakhstanis recognize that we are foreign, which happens frequently, there is usually a pretty standard set of questions whose lack of variety is limited by our language ability more than a lack of imagination on their part. It usually goes like this:
"Where are you from?"
"What are you doing here?"
"Where do you live?"
"Do you like Zhezkazgan?"
"Obama...he's good. What do you think about Obama?"
Talking American politics is a whole different ballgame here than it is in Europe. Kazakhstanis don't have a ton of knowledge about domestic American politics in part because they don't have the same international links that European society does, but mostly because the USA does not play a huge role in Kazakhstani foreign affairs. From what I can tell, most people know that (a)he's black and (b)he's not George Bush -- but most are unaware that he's not currently president. It's an interesting exercise in psychology that he can get universal approval from a society despite that society knowing virtually knowthing about him or his policies. I think Kazakhstan is far from unique on the world stage in this respect. I'm an Obamaphile but it's still slightly troubling to see the complete lack of reasoning behind a belief.
On the other hand, it's miles ahead of what it was like on the European hostel circuit during the Bush administration - especially because I've spent a fair amount of time in Eastern Europe when American travelers were more likely to be isolated. There's nothing worse than listening to a chorus of hypocritical coffeehouse Europeans bitching endlessly about everything under the sun. I became personally responsible for every decision and action of the US government and therefore became subject to knee-jerking groupthink of the worst kind -- even though I voted for the glorious John Kerry (sorry dad). Another one of my favorite things from this period were the Canadians who, to a man, had a maple leaf patch on their packs. They called it patriotism but it was clearly the "I'm not American so please don't even start with me" patch.
In any case, in over three months in Kazakhstan, I have yet to face even mild hostility over my nationality or anything else. The people here could teach most of the world a thing or two about hospitality.
Monday, December 1, 2008
Thinking about Thinking
I've heard culture compared to an iceberg several times. It's a corny analogy but it persists because, sadly, it's fairly apt. The small, visible tip of iceberg conceals and draws attention away from the vastness submerged away from sight. It's easy to identify the music, art, language, architecture, food, dress, and even customs of a culture. A more difficult element of culture to grasp is the set of values that gives rise to those visible elements of culture. And more importantly, those values that comprise the foundation of a culture are inextricably intertwined with a cultural mindset, although I believe they are distinct. Combined, they result in the everyday attitudes, beliefs, and decision-making of a culture.
Of all the things I could possibly be thinking about on the subject of Kazakhstan, I dwell more on this than anything else. The way people think here is fundamentally different from the way an American thinks and this difference can be seen on a daily basis. The way kids behave in classrooms and in English club, the way people discuss relationships, the sort of questions they ask me and all the other volunteers, all the small cultural quirks people care strongly about (SHAVE your goddamn stubble for the love of GOD!!!), and many others things that I've gotten so used to that I am starting forget they are different -- they all belie not just different cultural values, but a different method of approaching fundamental things in life.
I haven't been here nearly long enough to make any sort of dramatic proclamations about Kazakhstani society because I am still learning and I still have more to learn before I can start to digest it all and really sort it out. At the moment, I am most fascinated by the challenge of explaining concepts that do not exist here. By concepts, I am not referring to discussing the finer points of Nietzsche or something -- I'm talking about trying to explain what a suburb is. Suburbs certainly do not exist in Kazakhstan, the 9th largest country in the world despite having a population less than half that of metropolitan Tokyo. (I don't think there's a word for "metropolitan" in Kazakh, either). That's not to say that an American wouldn't have some difficulty understanding some aspect of Kazakhstan that is foreign to us, but I do believe that this culture is a little less suited to that sort of thing. It's been isolated for a long time and only now do people have the freedom and in some cases, the money to travel.
On a micro level -- in a classroom, for example -- the kids are a strange mix of unadulterated enthusiasm and instinctive reticence that I suppose is an indication of the times; the first generation to have no living memory of the Soviet Union. They show up in big numbers and most of them are quite interested in learning English. When we run activities though, it's always hard to scrounge up volunteers to participate. They know the answers, but there's some instinctual nervousness preventing them, which isn't a huge surprise considering the rigidity and authoritarianism of the school system here. The worst aspect about it, to me, is that it really drills the creativity right out of these kids. Those kinds of activities are the toughest.
--
On Thanksgiving I was invited to a class of roughly 16 year olds who were studying to be English teachers (all girls -- any boy studying to be a teacher would be run ragged by his friends). The girls put on a presentation with a short play and some games. This school has had a series of volunteers spanning six years and ending this past October and it showed. They spoke good English, but what really stood out were several things -- the no-hands-baursak (pastry-ish) eating contest and a bake sale fundraiser for a local organization for disabled children.
On their face, those things are silly and mean nothing, but they do represent a creativity and an ability to think outside the box. If you take that creativity and willingness to delve into the unknown and uncertain and apply that to teaching or to running an NGO, you can accomplish anything. America is rife with the entrepreneurial spirit and as far as business ventures, marketing, fundraisers, and gimmicks, we've seen it all and we take it for granted, but it's not like that everywhere. Part of the reason we are so good at it is because we grow up with it and we are exposed to it from the day we are born. When it's just not there, it's a fitful learning process and one that isn't always successful. After the first wheel was invented, I'm sure everyone said "I should have thought of that!". That's easy to say, but as simple as that is, it took a sort of small brilliance to conceptualize something that had never previously existed.
I don't mean to paint a picture of extremes here and I hope that I haven't because that's clearly not true. Nonetheless, Kazakhstan is a country with ambitious plans and a promising future, but at the moment they aren't quite equipped on a societal level to drag their institutions (particularly education) forward. The average American's jaw would hit the floor if they were transported to Almaty or Astana, which are thoroughly cosmopolitan cities that couldn't be any more contradicting of Borat. However, the rest of the country needs to catch up to the city elite and building critical thinking skills is the best long-term way to do it.
The encouragement of that mental flexibility -- the willingness and ability to be creative and to critically analyze something and make it better -- is one of the pillars of every volunteer's job here. Even sitting at the kitchen table with my host mother, I frequently ask "why?". The question and the answer usually make both of us think about something in a new light.
Of all the things I could possibly be thinking about on the subject of Kazakhstan, I dwell more on this than anything else. The way people think here is fundamentally different from the way an American thinks and this difference can be seen on a daily basis. The way kids behave in classrooms and in English club, the way people discuss relationships, the sort of questions they ask me and all the other volunteers, all the small cultural quirks people care strongly about (SHAVE your goddamn stubble for the love of GOD!!!), and many others things that I've gotten so used to that I am starting forget they are different -- they all belie not just different cultural values, but a different method of approaching fundamental things in life.
I haven't been here nearly long enough to make any sort of dramatic proclamations about Kazakhstani society because I am still learning and I still have more to learn before I can start to digest it all and really sort it out. At the moment, I am most fascinated by the challenge of explaining concepts that do not exist here. By concepts, I am not referring to discussing the finer points of Nietzsche or something -- I'm talking about trying to explain what a suburb is. Suburbs certainly do not exist in Kazakhstan, the 9th largest country in the world despite having a population less than half that of metropolitan Tokyo. (I don't think there's a word for "metropolitan" in Kazakh, either). That's not to say that an American wouldn't have some difficulty understanding some aspect of Kazakhstan that is foreign to us, but I do believe that this culture is a little less suited to that sort of thing. It's been isolated for a long time and only now do people have the freedom and in some cases, the money to travel.
On a micro level -- in a classroom, for example -- the kids are a strange mix of unadulterated enthusiasm and instinctive reticence that I suppose is an indication of the times; the first generation to have no living memory of the Soviet Union. They show up in big numbers and most of them are quite interested in learning English. When we run activities though, it's always hard to scrounge up volunteers to participate. They know the answers, but there's some instinctual nervousness preventing them, which isn't a huge surprise considering the rigidity and authoritarianism of the school system here. The worst aspect about it, to me, is that it really drills the creativity right out of these kids. Those kinds of activities are the toughest.
--
On Thanksgiving I was invited to a class of roughly 16 year olds who were studying to be English teachers (all girls -- any boy studying to be a teacher would be run ragged by his friends). The girls put on a presentation with a short play and some games. This school has had a series of volunteers spanning six years and ending this past October and it showed. They spoke good English, but what really stood out were several things -- the no-hands-baursak (pastry-ish) eating contest and a bake sale fundraiser for a local organization for disabled children.
On their face, those things are silly and mean nothing, but they do represent a creativity and an ability to think outside the box. If you take that creativity and willingness to delve into the unknown and uncertain and apply that to teaching or to running an NGO, you can accomplish anything. America is rife with the entrepreneurial spirit and as far as business ventures, marketing, fundraisers, and gimmicks, we've seen it all and we take it for granted, but it's not like that everywhere. Part of the reason we are so good at it is because we grow up with it and we are exposed to it from the day we are born. When it's just not there, it's a fitful learning process and one that isn't always successful. After the first wheel was invented, I'm sure everyone said "I should have thought of that!". That's easy to say, but as simple as that is, it took a sort of small brilliance to conceptualize something that had never previously existed.
I don't mean to paint a picture of extremes here and I hope that I haven't because that's clearly not true. Nonetheless, Kazakhstan is a country with ambitious plans and a promising future, but at the moment they aren't quite equipped on a societal level to drag their institutions (particularly education) forward. The average American's jaw would hit the floor if they were transported to Almaty or Astana, which are thoroughly cosmopolitan cities that couldn't be any more contradicting of Borat. However, the rest of the country needs to catch up to the city elite and building critical thinking skills is the best long-term way to do it.
The encouragement of that mental flexibility -- the willingness and ability to be creative and to critically analyze something and make it better -- is one of the pillars of every volunteer's job here. Even sitting at the kitchen table with my host mother, I frequently ask "why?". The question and the answer usually make both of us think about something in a new light.
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