February Travels

It's been a while since I've posted anything. My excuse this time is my first vacation since I arrived in Kazakhstan in August 2008. It's been a great three weeks in Portugal, Spain, and Bulgaria, but all good things come to an end. I will shortly begin the epic odyssey back to Zhezkazgan, which is comprised of a four hour bus ride, a night in Sofia, 11 hours of flights that sandwich an eight hour stop in Amsterdam, a 32 hour train ride and enough layover time in Almaty to make it journey that spans five days -- from a Sunday evening departure in central Bulgaria to a Friday morning arrival in central Kazakhstan. To me, the most absurd thing about all this is how typical it feels.


I'll do my best to write more my once I get home, but Blogspot and other blogging services have recently had "connectivity issues" in Kazakhstan. We'll see.

Here's To Generic Toasts

It is nearly impossible to drink even a little bit with a Russian or a Kazakh without embarking on a series of toasts. The saying of toasts is as embedded in the Russian tradition of alcohol as vodka itself. Before every shot, it is expected that somebody say a toast and this responsibility is passed around the table as the vodka (or cognac or beer or champagne...) continues to flow. Considering the omnipresence of vodka and general proliferation of toasts, one would expect to hear some interesting ones as part of a deep and rich tradition.

In the absence of any sort of drinking games, toasts plug a gap in the drinking culture, providing structure to those who desire it. Unfortunately, I have found that interesting toasts are not the norm. At weddings and other major gatherings, there are real gems representing an outpouring of the soul -- long monologues that come from the heart. On the other hand, the majority of toasts are rigidly formulaic and repeated so often that, for me at least, they have lost all meaning despite being couched in words that are friendly and kind.

In the Russian language, the "I wish you..." construction is very common in toasts and also as a ritual on holidays. On a holiday, one cannot go anywhere without being wished health, happiness, and love. I can't help but roll my eyes a little bit, even though I am aware that I am taking a bitter and surly attitude toward a harmless and well-intentioned tradition. I suppose it is most jarring because this style of toast represents to the polar opposite of the style to which I am accustomed: long, anecdotal, and on rare occasions. Quantity dilutes value and the Law of Diminishing Returns closed the book on Kazakhstani toasts long ago.

So, here's to Kazakhstan. I wish you health, love, and happiness in 2010 -- and a robust imagination when it comes to new toasts!