Wanderlustress

“One year”

Returning to Uzbekistan from two weeks in dreamy Turkey is a lot like waking up with a hangover…you either want to stay in bed, or order up a double Bloody Mary.  Better yet, have the damn Bloody Mary in bed…or head back to Turkey.

My one hour flight from Tashkent to Andijon on Uzbek Airways alone encompassed all that I was returning to…a two year-old seated in the Emergency Exit row, twelve ten year-olds turned around in their seats to practice speaking English with an American (me) – like field mice peaking out of their hovels – peppering me with questions while half their seatbelts were undone during take-off, a flight attendant too eager to over sugar and caffeine the kids with multiple doses of soda, but not to make sure that the overhead compartments they opened mid-flight were closed for landing, and finally, getting hosed double the going rate for my five minute taxi home – on account of too much fatigue to argue, the rain, the cold, and it was dark with no other choice that was obvious to both of us.

Back home, everything was (unfortunately) still in order – sticky dishes in the sink, mud on the floors, and the pervasive chill.  Last night I exterminated a spider laden with huge egg sac.  Tonight I bleached three generations of cockroaches out of my bathroom.  (Did you know that an olive green sweater will spot into salmon pink dots if it gets accidentally sprayed with bleach?) And just when my skin stopped crawling, I opened the fridge to find a Petri dish fit for what I could not achieve in advanced biology.  There were quite a few science experiments brewing from many weeks of neglect.  (Let me know if anyone wants the recipe.)  This is clearly retribution from eight luxurious years of having a part-time maid while living in Singapore.  I hope that I’m nearly paid up.

And yes, the recent parliamentary elections took place on December 26^th without incident.  The results are as anyone anticipated, with the house now divided into upper and lower (whatever that means), and a newly appointed senate made up of friends of the President…I mean, specialists from various fields of expertise.  The OSCE has, predictably, declared that it was not a completely democratic process.  So should we start counting the days until they get “Soros’d” (as we should now coin the process by which “anti-establishment” do-gooders get their arses kicked out of this country…er, I mean don’t get their NGO registrations renewed)?

And on the safety and security front, everyone will be happy to know that the Ferghana Valley was described by the U.S. Embassy’s Regional Security Officer (or rather his stand-in) as one of the most dangerous hot-beds – the likes of being the “Compton and Watts of Uzbekistan”!!!  Even Peace Corps has made the decision to “reduce” the number of volunteers assigned to this region on account of inadequate emergency evacuation procedures.  So there won’t be any new volunteers assigned out here in the most densely populated part of the country.  That makes really good programmatic sense, huh?  Let’s put even more volunteers in Bukhara or Samarkand.  Once the UZ16’s leave this coming November, I will be one of only 7 volunteers left in the region.  I’ll be 20 km away from the nearest volunteer, and the furthest away from Tashkent.  But don’t worry folks, the U.S. Embassy’s Regional Security Officer (or rather his stand-in) was firm when he said that they have the resources to assist us in the event of an evacuation, and Peace Corps keeps saying, “Don’t worry.  We won’t leave you guys behind.”  Sir, Yes Sir!  Seriously, while I am fully aware of the potential dangers here and have personal opinions about the taxed patience of the general population, I do not feel that I will be directly threatened in any way.  Past and potential violence in the region has typically been localized, and foreigners have not been targeted.  Still, I can’t wait for the Spring thaw over the tenable mountain pass – our only access to the rest of the country. 

The best thing about my return has been answering “One year” when asked how much longer I will be in Uzbekistan.  My poop-eating grin caught me unaware on the plane when I replied and I almost choked on the good feeling.  But that also means only one year left to accomplish all the professional as well as personal goals set a year ago.  Just like last year, it is bound to go by in a flash.  (btw, it’s really one year, two months and around twenty six days…)

Peace Corps Packing…

This post is for those who are coming with UZ19 in January (or are you guys UZ18 since we skipped August installation?)…

OK. Everybody knows I did not pack lightly when I came to Uzbekistan almost one year ago. I pushed the airline limits over the top, and by luck only, did not have to pay for any overage. Despite cutting all the labels off my clothes ; ), I had weight…and mass. I’m writing this now to calm your nerves from all the horror stories you’ve been reading about having to pack everything onto a crowded marashuka, sitting on one bag while hugging another on a six hour ride to Qarshi. I can tell you that if I made it with all my stuff – to Tashkent, to training site, to my host-family, then to my second host-family, and finally out to Andijon – then you will, too. People will help you, from your arrival by Peace Corps staff (Peace Corps even had designated luggage trucks available whenever we had to mobilize en mass), and by the kind locals when you’re trying to stuff the biggest suitcase ever into a tiny Tico trunk. If its definitely not feasible, worse case scenario is you’ll have to give away the twenty pairs of socks your mom packed, or maybe the clothes steamer your least favorite Aunt bought for you at the airport. Also, you will get two trips to lug all your stuff out to site – once during your site visit and again after swearing in…so don’t worry.

Having said that, there are definitely things I wish I hadn’t brought…six months supply of vitamins (medical will give you plenty), the Jenga set gift to my host-family (they were not impressed, and it was a freaken heavy block of wood), extra toiletries (there is plenty here and readily available), two thick towels (they’re an animal to hand wash, and mold as they’re drying), 20XPF film shield and film (its heavy, unnecessary, and I haven’t taken many pictures with my attention hog of a SLR camera anyway), Pac-Safe system (haven’t felt a need for so much security), stationary and envelops (I mostly email and there’s plenty of paper here you can recycle; plus, you have to use Uzbek postal envelops to mail letters anyway, even postcards!), thick thermals (light-weight and thin silk ones work best and travel easier), and Scrabble (no takers).

I don’t regret…all the shoes, sleeping bag, two Nalgenes (already lost one), laptop, digital camera, jump drive, and nice clothes.

I wish I had brought…a good pillow, more DVD’s, more music, more books (via M-bag), two jump drives, and a digital short-wave radio.

Good Luck!!!

Last Weekend

A weekend of cooking and hiking. Spinach rice, chunky applesauce, and a small trek in the hills outside of Andijon City…

At the top of one of these hills, called “Bogolshamol”, there is an amusement park of sorts, where a ferris wheel sits at the end of a tram line that transports visitors from bottom to top and down again. But its really only a half hour’s walk, maximum, to the top. The trail starts out as a road that leads up about half way then forks into a paved pathway that eventually turns into gravel as it intersects the lumbering tram overhead. Along the way, there are orchards of what are probably apricot trees, grazing sheep with their bouncing fat “dumbala” bottoms, and their shepherds. Thankfully, they’ve stopped the tram lines for the winter season so there was peace and quiet at the top. More importantly, there was solitude, a rare solace in a region that is so densely populated. Over the other side, gentle grassy ridges slope down into orchards and some farms. We diverted from our standard descent and explored. A few young shepherd boys ran up to get a better look at the crazy foreigners. Then we were all too soon on the main road heading back into town. Oh, how I wish for the uninterrupted vastness of natural space, enough for at least a half day’s hike, undisturbed. Good for the soul.

Winter Spinach Rice
(This dish can be made with left-over steamed white rice.)

2 cups steamed white rice (best if one day old)
1 bunch spinach, de-stemmed and washed
4 T olive oil (or any vegetable oil; use butter if you like)
2 cloves chopped garlic (or as many as you like)
1 lemon quarter
pinch o’ salt
pinch o’ black pepper

Over medium heat, sauté garlic in olive oil until well scented. Before garlic caramelizes, throw in spinach all at once. (Be careful as oil might splatter.) Squeeze lemon into the pan. Allow spinach to settle and wilt, giving it a stir. Spinach should turn bright green and break up a little, but don’t let it turn brown. Spoon all the rice in and mix well, breaking up the spinach so it mixes evenly with the rice. Salt and pepper to taste. When rice is hot, remove from heat. Garnish with lemon slice and serve as a healthy main or complimentary side-dish. Goes well with roast chicken and grilled fish.

Alternatively: Mix in some brown or wild rice. Add chopped walnuts or pine nuts with golden raisins. Top with grated parmesan or sprinkle with feta cheese.

…and with the remaining lemon, mix yourself a nice pre-dinner vodka tonic, then make soothing lemon-tea or use the rind to scent the lip of your espresso cup to accompany a dessert of your choice!

Chunky Applesauce

Peel apples. Haphazardly dice them into all different sizes and place in pot over a low flame. Add an inch of water. Throw in as much sugar as you like, some cinnamon, and nutmeg (optional). Allow to cook until larger chunks of apple are cooked all the way through, or until the consistency of your choice. Remove from heat. Serve warm or cold.

Caution: Eating an entire kilo in one sitting can make your stomach ache, but it was worth it!

Who's Counting?

68 more weeks 'til COS...

Got Milk?

It’s not even a full moon, I know. And some of you really want me to post everyday? Days like today are the reasons that I don’t. Then again, it sheds truer light on all the grit…before my hypoxic memory brings me to a fabricated nirvana, which this place is absolutely not...

It started with a night of rough sleeping on the few pads I call a bed and waking up with yet another sore throat. I reached into the fridge and there’s no milk for my coffee…because…oh yeah, last night I was at a neighborhood store and found that they charged .05 cents more than at the bazaar for a packet of milk. (I say “packet” because it comes in a soft bag.) So I didn’t buy any. I really am a stupid donkey. Then in the haze of another Uzbek morning, I cursed my frugal donkey all the way to a frigid office – gas yes, heat no. A few flickering flames and struggling space heaters does heat an entire office – not. My fingers grew numb as I typed away at yet another funding proposal, and all I want to write is, “Won’t somebody please hire me to a post somewhere within the Tropic of Cancer?!?”

Lunch was a miss because, yet again, my colleagues are only eating non (traditional Uzbek bread) with fruit jam or vegetables canned over last summer. Why? Because of the f’ed up regulations regarding NGO’s. More specifically, the freezing of NGOs’ bank accounts for project funds. One of our accounts has not only been frozen since April, but they have returned the money to our donors! Yes folks, you’ve missed all the gory details about the inane glitches in the system, but I don’t want to get political here because what is more of a reality for me is that my colleagues – smart, educated, inspiring women – have not been paid their monthly salaries since August. Thus, the .10 cent non and jam from home. No. I couldn’t do another day of it, face the pitiful sight of the lunch table. Nor was I up to facing the fact that I had just purchased a plane ticket to Turkey while other people don’t go anywhere, don’t get paid, and don’t eat as much as they should…I have a weak stomach for this kind of thing, as well as a weak conscience.

At least tonight I’m expecting a most welcome long-distance call scheduled via today’s email – the only bright spot in my day. I hurried expectantly home, after buying some milk, of course. I picked up the receiver to make sure the line was working, and………..nothing!!! Not a tone, not a beep, not a hope of human whisper will reach me tonight over that pathetic forsaken system. I immediately lose my relaxed, peaceful, yoga-instilled composure and contort into a tightly knit mass of clenched, controlled anger, steaming with curses. Suddenly, there’s a knock at the door – soft, not aggressive. I do the usual tip-toe to the peep hole, which I’ve covered with duck tape so that unwanted company won’t see the spot of light and then my obstruction when I come to the door to not let them in. The young girl knocks again. I decide to breath, unwind, and ask her who she is. She mumbles, “Me.” Little does she know I’m really not up for this tonight. I ask who she wants. She mumbles, “Just open the door.” Ooooooohhhhhhh!!!!!! Please don’t get me started….breath…..I ask why and if she speaks Uzbek. She tells me, “I also speak English.” Enough of this game. I open the door hoping, hoping, that she’s a nice neighbor and she’s here to offer a fresh pot of osh so that I don’t have to cook dinner. No. She's here to ask me if I have any friends in India who can help her get a visa so that she can travel there to see her boyfriend. Why me? Why does everybody and their long lost relative know where I live and either follows me home or waits until my lights go on to come over to see if I have a miracle pill for their citizenship ills? Oh yeah, because I’m a Peace Corps volunteer. I am all things America where everything is possible. Oh how I wish...

With no dinner in hand, I decide to cook myself a little baked pasta. Simple really. But not tonight. Tonight I find the rusty shelves of my gas oven all askew, off their rungs and tilting towards the rear. From what? My best guess is the cockroaches that live in there wanted to remodel. I don’t know! I wrestled the two shelves somewhat back in place, teetering and threatening to dump all my pasta onto the flames below. At least the high-risk project turned out a pretty good meal, but it doesn’t stop here. I go to wash the dishes and the taps are running scalding hot water! Remember I mentioned before that I was getting a nice, warm flow from both taps? Well, now its tea time all the time! I’m not so much worried about the dishes as I was looking forward to a soothing shower to calm my threadbare nerves. Now there’s no hope for that either! Sigh.

At least I have milk for tomorrow morning’s coffee...

Tropical…by birth

The electricity in my apartment tonight keeps flickering on and off.  It can’t decide whether to stay or go.  I unplug my computer just in case of a power surge when it decides to come back on again.  I’ve noticed recently that it goes off every day some time after late morning, and comes back on again by the time I get home from work.  It hasn’t been a problem for food in the fridge since the enclosed balcony where the fridge is maintains outdoor winter temperature anyway.  Gas has been steady but low.  Strange thing is, for the past few days I’ve only had hot water running in both taps.  Nothing scalding or anything.  Rather a nice warm flow.  So much for my daily wake up splash of cold water.  I’ll just have to appreciate the luxury of warmth for now, especially when my five foot tall hot water tank is automatically warm when I come in from the cold.  He’s become my new best friend.  I come home and I go immediately to him and give him a big hug – for five minutes until my hands, feet and face are comfortably soothed by his radiating heat.  I was thinking about giving him a name but I’m afraid that Peace Corps will read my blog and wacko-‘vac me home. 

At night, my down sleeping bag and silk underwear have served me well.  I haven’t had to use the Peace Corps issued space heater yet.  Still holding out for the bitter, stormy nights to come.  Anyway, its hard for me to admit to being cold, especially to my Colorado friends, who often forget that I was born at sea level in the tropics – nowhere near their mile high mountainous birthplace.  Despite the fact, I actually enjoy the cold.  I just have to wear more clothes than the hefty, stalwart folks.  I’m looking forward to getting snow.

Finally, some of my packages have arrived.  One of them was sent in June!  The goods from home will come in handy through the bleak winter, and I expect there will be more to come.  I’m hoping this backlog will push through some others that are over due by half a year.  Until now, I had not received any boxed packages since May.  Talk about patience.  Fingers crossed for my next visit to the post office.

I imagine that most Americans back home are in a frenzy over the coming of Christmas.  While I do miss my family and friends, I am very happy to be out of the fray...

Stop driving back and forth to the mall everybody!!!

Chodak-Tkent-Nukus-Bukhara-Tkent

Just returned to Andijon from two and a half weeks on the road. Our four days of NGO technical training and Russian lessons were both productive and fun. Celebrated my birthday at the training site in Chodak (mountain-side sanatorium outside of Tashkent) with all but one of UZ17 volunteers. Although the NGO sector in this country continues to face many bureaucratic frustrations and regulatory obstacles, it was good to openly discuss our shared concerns and learn about our individual coping mechanisms. I can now count in Russian and form short sentences, but still mixing with Uzbek where I get stuck on Russian vocabulary, tenses, conjugation, etc. Unfortunately, we were not in the mountains, but at least we could go on long walks where their snowy peaks were in view.

Then after two days and four trips to the aviacassa (air ticket office) and the airport in Tashkent, we were finally able to buy tickets to Nukus. The small Yak-40 was packed. With seats full of passengers and no room for luggage (something else took up all the cargo space), luggage ended up piled in front of the plane behind the cockpit (I kept mine on my lap). Upon take-off, the tentative pile began to fall over onto the passenger in the bulk seat who reluctantly tried to push the pile away from her while looking around as if to demand, “Who’s ever luggage this is, get it off of me!” The owners of the bags were reluctant to get out of their seats with the plane at a 30 degree angle, so my heroic friend ended up helping her and secured the luggage with the belt that ropes off the emergency exit door – no hope of getting out past the bags anyway. During the flight, a few bags would tilt towards the cockpit door, blocking its entrance or exit. But that didn’t seem to bother the pilots nor the stewardess. They just shoved the obstruction aside with their foot and go about their business. Needless to say, there is very little air safety regulation in this country.

Nukus was c c c…cold. The desert and all that open space doesn’t guard against the wind at all, so we mostly stayed indoors to rest up and keep warm. High point was finding tofu in the bazaar, which we promptly turned into a stir-fry with garlic and spinach the first night, and a tangy, spicy, peppery dish the second night. Still didn’t make it to the much acclaimed museum, but there will be future trips out west over the next sixteen months.

On the way to Bukhara for Thanksgiving we picked up three friends in Urgench and managed to hire a van for a fairly good price. While five hours of desert landscape were extremely monotonous, we entertained each other with random trivia questions and dreams of eating turkey upon our arrival. Our anticipation and endurance on the long trip was rewarded with three turkeys, two of which were cooked in a tandor, along with a buffet table crammed with pumpkin soup, stuffing, creamed onions, walnut-pomegranate-spinach salad, cranberry sauce, home-baked breads, broccoli with ranch dressing, no less than six pumpkin pies, nutty date balls, banana bread, bunt cake, apple pie, jello, chocolate cake…a bigger spread than I’ve ever seen in America, never mind in this country. But there it was, and we were all together about 35 people, mostly PCV’s, Uzbek friends, as well as a few other Americans working in Bukhara. I was happy to be with good friends and among the generosity of the Bukhara PCV’s – the way Thanksgiving should be if I can’t be at home with my family. Good times all around. The following day before leaving on the overnight train back to Tashkent, we took a stroll through Bukhara’s historic old city and bought some spice tea from the infamous “spice guy”. The tea is so fragrant that it can be used as pot pourri, and the taste is smooth and soothing. I will wrap little cones of it in origami paper to give to my colleagues back in Andijon.

Taking an overnight train anywhere is romantic, right? Well, at least until two thug-like men board in the middle of the night at who knows which stop and enter our four-bunk coupe. They were so steeped in vodka and cigarettes that we were fumigated to the bone by the time we arrived the following morning in Tashkent. Our clothes, hair, and even clothes packed inside our bags reeked for days afterwards. It took a few showers at the Intercon and professional cleaning of our clothes to rid the stench from our bodies and belongings. In between scrubbing ourselves clean and tending to Peace Corps business in Tashkent, we shopped and luxuriated in the fine dining opportunities the city offers…Indian, Korean, Chinese, Italian, burgers, mmmmmm…. At Mir, a Turkish operation that caters to Western tastes with foreign products, we found new and exciting items on the shelves including Birella pastas and sauces, pesto!!!, olive oil, brie, and Philadelphia cream-cheese. What next…prociutto and freshly grated parmesan? I’m hoping for peanut butter, although there is a “peanut butter” guy here whom PCV’s often order from although I’ve yet to try him.

Our meetings at the American Embassy were productive, and had a side benefit for me in particular. We met with the director of the Public Affairs Section who manages the “American Corner” facilities around Uzbekistan. Andijon and Termez each have one that provides space for holding English clubs, a library of English books and magazines, equipment to watch American movies, and computers to do research. It is a good program and they are interested in expanding into other regions, specifically in Nukus, Namangan and Jizzak. We also met with the coordinator of the Democracy Commission’s Small Grants Program and got some concrete information about funding opportunities for our NGO’s. All of this will be useful when discussing new projects with my director and colleagues. Best of all, I was able to hop a ride with the public affairs guy in an embassy vehicle back to the valley. Cruising through check-points without having to show our passports expedites the trip significantly, never mind the comfort of not squeezing between two people into the back of a Nexia with Uzbek music blaring in my ears for five hours.

Oh, and we also managed to buy tickets to Turkey for the holidays, departing in a little over two weeks. Tickets to SEAsia at this time are impossible to buy, and anyway, the high season there turns me off a bit. We’re hoping to have Turkey mostly to ourselves outside the throng of tourists typical of the summer season. I can’t wait!!!

What I learned in Peace Corps – Uzbekistan…

...that I couldn’t get in the “real” world:

- that “bull-shit” is a real word in the Uzbek (er Tajik?) language

- that the pit is preferable over a dysfunctional flush toilet

- that you can cool your Coke bottle under a running tap

- that you get paid for dancing without having to take your clothes off

- that people do eat sheep’s ass, and eyes, perhaps even at the same time

- that I’m still considered a virgin at 37 (bc I’m not married)

- that you can cook rice in a gallon of oil

- that you can fit 20 people in a 10 person van

- that language teachers are the most adored people on earth

- that drinking copious amounts of vodka could be so life altering

- that you can speak three languages in one sentence

- that you can live on a $1 a day

...more to come on two and a half weeks of whirlwind through Chodak-Tashkent-Nukus-Bukhara-Tashkent…

Kitchen Chatter

I’m sitting in my kitchen warmed by the glow of gas-fed flame heating my hot-water tank.  The flame is not as blue today and it may take another hour before the water is hot enough for a proper shower.  The gas flow is usually at a minimum after rain showers or storms (your guess is as good as mine), but the skies have been clear save the typical smoky autumn air of burning leaves.  And its not as if I have a spacious eat-in kitchen.  In fact, it measures roughly 6ft. x 6ft., where two people can only pass each other with hands on the other’s hip lest a sudden movement knocks over a pot on the stove or dishes piled up in the sink – so goes my excuse for intimacy, but it works.  Tonight’s dinner is a bowl of borsch (beet soup with potatoes and beef) prepared by Café Eurasia, conveniently situated across the street from my NGO.  Yes, its Saturday and I went to the office – to finish up a 15 page translation of a project proposal due Monday to an international organization.  Well, I didn’t’ translate it.  Earlier in the week, the pirivochik recited the translation while I typed.  I merely spent the rest of the week converting thick Russian accent into American speak.  At the bewilderment of my colleagues’ passion for literal everything, I had to convince them that an exact word-by-word translation would bore any reader out of the idea of what is written.  And the ideas are good.  Thank God its finished.  I’m leaving for the mountains that skirt the capital city of Tashkent for a week of Peace Corps training, and then out west to spend Thanksgiving in a meaningful way.

Mid-week I took an exploratory trip into the border regions (Uzbekistan and Kyrgyzstan) to ascertain the level of interest amongst the women in these rural communities to start an economic project.  We would provide the skills training as well as basic business and entrepreneurial mentoring, and even find a partner who can arrange a micro-credit loan for the start of their work.  Typical of our previous experience in the regions, the response was energetic.  We’ll return after two weeks to see what they have collectively decided together with the rest of the community’s women.  Some ideas enthusiastically thrown out included sewing, baking, greenhouse farming, and making traditional crafts. My favorite statement during this process was, “They sell traditional crafts made in Samarkand in the bazaars here.  Why can’t we make them ourselves?!”  That’s the ticket.  I’m excited to follow up on their momentum.

Scenes out towards the rural regions transform each time I visit, according to the change of seasons.  Agricultural societies are like that.  This time, I saw that all the cotton had been picked.  Large trucks drove by casting billowing bits of white plume behind them.  Tractors are out in force tilling the fields for next season, but only after all the dried up cotton plants have been hand-picked by the villagers.  I saw them bare-handed, bundling the spindly sticks and heaving them onto their heads, then transporting them to trucks that belong to farmers who will sell the dead plants for tandor fires that make the non so sweet.  The planting, cultivating, picking and tending to cotton is back-breaking.  As early as September until December, (mostly) women and children are obligated to pick cotton.  They will abandon their work and schools to obey a national conscription that is supervised by the mere legacy of servitude left over from the old Soviet mandate.  I’ve heard that it is also by law, however, I sense that it is done just because its done, every year, ever since there as been a leader to commandeer such obedience..

Someone told me that when there was a lack of cotton pickers this year, the militsia actually went into bazaars and forced merchants out into the fields.  Should it surprise anyone then, that on top of every other problem they face this year, this kind of treatment is what engendered the recent spate of violent riots – several in Andijon and one in Kokand?  In the process of trying to formalize the country’s economy by requiring all commercial enterprises to register as a licensed business, pay taxes, and utilize proper retail/operational spaces, the government is set to alienate the majority of the impoverished who have no hope of adjusting to the rigors of their demands.  Tax levels are too high, newly built store-fronts and bazaar stalls are too expensive to rent, and the indiscriminate collection of bribes by local authorities diminish any level of legitimacy the state’s taxation apparatus can even hope to enact.  And anyway, the only places I have seen where tax payers’ money is going to is in the construction of shiny new stores, which I recently found out, are owned by the government.  Again, should it surprise anyone that Uzbeks don’t want to pay taxes to a government that only constructs buildings that the people are then forced to rent?  Or that instead of being left alone to earn a meager hand-to-mouth living, the government forces them to work cotton, which is a state-owned export enterprise?

Survival in Uzbekistan must be kind of like what I spied in the fields of dead cotton plants.  Cattle was grazing in the fields and I thought they were eating dead leaves.  When I asked what was nutritious amongst the dirt and twigs, the reply from my colleague was that they were eating green, meaning grass.  But didn’t see any green.  Then again, I’m not a cow.

I’ve been reading a lot of survival books lately, mountaineering disasters in the Andes, Shackleton’s Antartic endeavors, Breasheare’s Everest expeditions, Pi’s fictional drift in the ocean, and now Gourevitch’s accounts of the Rwandan genocide.  Perhaps such extremities endear me to my basic amenities, and somehow give hope, for the people of the country I’m living in, to endure as much as the depth of the human spirit allows.

October Update

I was about to settle into a bowl of fresh popcorn and a DVD, but thought I'd write a long overdue post…

There is a lot to tell – work has been immensely interesting, and seasonal changes are forcing more adjustments to everyday living. Over the past month, I attended two very useful conferences. The first was an International Organizations Network (ION) meeting of representatives from around the Ferghana Valley region. We addressed common concerns regarding the shift in the government’s attitude towards NGOs, the barriers this creates and how we cope with them. For me, this was a great opportunity to make more contacts and learn about other development projects. And it was at this ION meeting that I got invited to attend a four day conference on economic development, more specifically on Business Development Services (BDS) – a more holistic approach of fostering economic development through promoting services that support micro-enterprises. It’s a mouthful, but well worth learning. The field is in its nascent stages and I feel like I have a good opportunity to be that early bird.

It is a lovely fall season now, and with temperatures dropping in the evenings, my apartment surprisingly remains quite warm (at least after I stuff myself into a –5 degrees down sleeping bag with sweatpants, wool hat, and a cashmere sweater on!). Being on the fourth floor and exposed to bright sunshine helps a bit during the daytime. Gas and water supplies have not been a major problem so hot showers are still a luxury. My site-mates even have a set of my spare keys for when they need a good washing. A small miracle occurred and my telephone is working, but in typical Uzbek fashion, it only kind of works – I can receive calls but I can’t call out. How frustrating is that?!? On the bright side, it is saving me from raking up huge phone bills, especially calling long distance to Nukus and to other good friends out west.

The food supply is rapidly changing. Tomatoes are dwindling, eggs are more expensive, eggplants are much smaller, red and green peppers are in mountainous supply, still lots of grapes and melons, apples are wormy, persimmons are yummy, and walnuts and pumpkins are now in season. Strangely enough, I think winter spinach is also coming in – not sure how different they are to spring spinach. Thankfully, the cooler weather helps to refrigerate meat. I’m less skiddish about the possibility of finding maggots in my hamburgers.

On the cultural side, its Ramadan this month – an Islamic holiday punctuated by fasting, prayer and charity. Over a 30 day fasting period, families wake up around 4.30am to eat before the sun rises and the fast is broken after sundown in a ritual called “Iftar”. I’ve been told that all things enjoyable are to be avoided during Ramadan. This includes watching television, listening to music, kissing, sex…just about anything that gives you pleasure. The strict discipline reflects a love for Allah and proves one’s ability to adhere to other disciplines of the Islamic faith. Special evening prayers from the Koran called “Taraweeh” are recited each night. The Koran is divided into 30 parts so that by the end of Ramadan, the entire Koran has been recited. As for charity, Muslims are supposed to share their blessings by feeding the poor and giving to mosques. What I’ve personally experienced is more aggressive begging on the streets and nightly pounding of my apartment door by troops of children asking for money in the name of Ramadan – sort of Halloween like. I resent the intrusion and snuggle deeper into my sleeping bag. So much for my cultural assimilation.

Looking forward, there’s a 99% chance I’ll get a Small Projects Assistant (SPA) grant from Peace Corps in December for the youth leadership program my NGO wants to start. We have another In-Service Training (IST) in November. This time for NGO Development technical training as well as more language training. I’ll start working on getting a Kyrgyz visa for our cross-boarder project work (and a few social outings to Osh now that I’ve made some friends over the boarder). And there may be a little vacation in Southeast Asia over the holidays if we can figure out how to get a flight out of this country during that peak period.

So that’s all for now. Hope everyone is well and happy!

…back to the popcorn!