All Kaz-20 volunteers were required to make the trek to Almaty during July for a standard checkup with the doctor and a trip to a local dentist. For some volunteers, this entails a one-hour taxi ride. In my case, it was a 70 hour round-trip odyssey on three different trains, all for 16 hours in the city. At least I ran into a few other volunteers who were in town for an English teachers' conference.
As ridiculous as that may sound, though, you simply become accustomed to long train rides. They aren't nearly as unbearable as they may seem. For one thing, trains are timed to maximize sleeping time; the Zhezkazgan-Almaty train leaves at 11:30pm and arrives at 5:50am two days later for a total journey of around 30 hours, the majority of which I slept through. To cope with the ponderously slow speed of Kazakhstan's trains, locals have developed a great train culture and more often than not I find myself in interesting conversations with kind people. In this country, people aren't always overly friendly in the public sphere, but on the train this is very rarely the case. Life on the train is worthy of much more than a paragraph, however. When I finally get around to taking pictures on the train, there is a tour de force of a post waiting to be ridden about The Train.
Friday, July 24, 2009
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Globalization
A few moments ago in the Шаруа bazaar in Zhezkazgan, Kazakhstan, I bought a Granny Smith apple with a little grown-in-Chile sticker on the side. The distance between Santiago, Chile and Almaty, Kazakhstan is about 10,530 miles.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Chez Jamie
I know that America is dying to know what my apartment in Zhezkazgan looks like. Fortunately, today is the day that I will put our long national nightmare to rest and finally show off my Kazakhstani flat in all its local glory.
Zhezkazgan is a small city and has two hubs of commercial activity. My apartment is located just behind the most active street in town and is only a one minute walk away from the main bazaar. That's nice in the summer and it is going to be even more useful when the icy winds of winter come howling from the steppe four months from now. Despite its central location, it is usually quiet at night other than the odd drunken conversation. The convenience is well worth a little noise, however. So without further ado, the pictures:
(A view of my apartment building from across the "yard". I live at the left end of the building in the center, behind a tree. The sign threatens passersby with a 50,000 tenge fine ($333) for throwing away trash from the bazaar, failing to throw trash in the proper containers, or lighting the trash on fire. All of these rules are broken with regularity, but somehow I don't think anybody has paid up.)
(The stairwell. This picture does not do it justice for a variety of reasons. Firstly, it has been recently swept, although in fairness they do sweep consistently -- after all, the bloody tampon in the corner and the condom wrapper on the second floor aren't going to throw themselves out! Unfortunately, this picture cannot convey the exotic aroma of urine, boiled lamb, and cigarette smoke that usually hangs in the air.)
(Big wooden doors: keeping PC-Kazakhstan volunteers safe since 1993. Sadly, the peephole was seemingly designed for a local woman, i.e. somebody around 5'2".)
(9 out 10 Iron Chef participants recommend this Soviet-era stove. Actually, it has broken down once, but it was completely re-wired. Now all I need is the (missing) third knob, so I can use the oven. For now, my kitchen is where dreams of eggplant parmesan go to die.)
(The shelves and cabinets all throughout my apartment are barely holding together. At least I do have a ton of space; too bad most of them simply don't close all the way. Nonetheless, my kitchen is not at all a bad setup for my purposes, and I am lucky to have a big and relatively cold refridgerator.)
(The bathroom. As per usual, the toilet is in an adjacent room. Bathroom sinks can be found in Kazakhstan, but they are not at all considered a necessity. The tub is viewed as a suitable alternative as a dual-purpose tub/sink. I (usually) have hot water, which turns taking a shower into a game of cat-and-mouse between me and the hot water knob. Even the most insignificant of twists can instantaneously transform the stream from feeling like an Arctic swimming hole to a jet of hot magma. When the hot water isn't working, I break out the tea kettle and mix boiled water with cold water and take a bucket shower. It's amazing how much water we waste when you can take a perfectively effective shower with just a few liters.)
(My living room. I like having an ugly carpet; it hides the stains. The far windows are papered over for privacy because the next building is situated perpendicularly to mine and about twenty apartment windows stare across the alley at mine.)
(See? A normal bedroom.)
(The built-in working space in my living room is great and, I think, unusual. I'm happy to take it and the abundance of closet space it provides.)
(The view from the balcony. Unfortunately, balconies here are rarely a social space. They are usually too narrow to sit in and are used as storage space. My balcony is closed off, so I found it stuffed with chairs stacked on each other. When I lived with my host family, the balcony was exposed and it was used as a freezer for the enormous amounts of horsemeat they bought.)
Zhezkazgan is a small city and has two hubs of commercial activity. My apartment is located just behind the most active street in town and is only a one minute walk away from the main bazaar. That's nice in the summer and it is going to be even more useful when the icy winds of winter come howling from the steppe four months from now. Despite its central location, it is usually quiet at night other than the odd drunken conversation. The convenience is well worth a little noise, however. So without further ado, the pictures:
(A view of my apartment building from across the "yard". I live at the left end of the building in the center, behind a tree. The sign threatens passersby with a 50,000 tenge fine ($333) for throwing away trash from the bazaar, failing to throw trash in the proper containers, or lighting the trash on fire. All of these rules are broken with regularity, but somehow I don't think anybody has paid up.)
(The stairwell. This picture does not do it justice for a variety of reasons. Firstly, it has been recently swept, although in fairness they do sweep consistently -- after all, the bloody tampon in the corner and the condom wrapper on the second floor aren't going to throw themselves out! Unfortunately, this picture cannot convey the exotic aroma of urine, boiled lamb, and cigarette smoke that usually hangs in the air.)
(Big wooden doors: keeping PC-Kazakhstan volunteers safe since 1993. Sadly, the peephole was seemingly designed for a local woman, i.e. somebody around 5'2".)
(9 out 10 Iron Chef participants recommend this Soviet-era stove. Actually, it has broken down once, but it was completely re-wired. Now all I need is the (missing) third knob, so I can use the oven. For now, my kitchen is where dreams of eggplant parmesan go to die.)
(The shelves and cabinets all throughout my apartment are barely holding together. At least I do have a ton of space; too bad most of them simply don't close all the way. Nonetheless, my kitchen is not at all a bad setup for my purposes, and I am lucky to have a big and relatively cold refridgerator.)
(The bathroom. As per usual, the toilet is in an adjacent room. Bathroom sinks can be found in Kazakhstan, but they are not at all considered a necessity. The tub is viewed as a suitable alternative as a dual-purpose tub/sink. I (usually) have hot water, which turns taking a shower into a game of cat-and-mouse between me and the hot water knob. Even the most insignificant of twists can instantaneously transform the stream from feeling like an Arctic swimming hole to a jet of hot magma. When the hot water isn't working, I break out the tea kettle and mix boiled water with cold water and take a bucket shower. It's amazing how much water we waste when you can take a perfectively effective shower with just a few liters.)
(My living room. I like having an ugly carpet; it hides the stains. The far windows are papered over for privacy because the next building is situated perpendicularly to mine and about twenty apartment windows stare across the alley at mine.)
(See? A normal bedroom.)
(The built-in working space in my living room is great and, I think, unusual. I'm happy to take it and the abundance of closet space it provides.)
(The view from the balcony. Unfortunately, balconies here are rarely a social space. They are usually too narrow to sit in and are used as storage space. My balcony is closed off, so I found it stuffed with chairs stacked on each other. When I lived with my host family, the balcony was exposed and it was used as a freezer for the enormous amounts of horsemeat they bought.)
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