Rollin'

Autumn has arrived in Toktogul. Leaves are turning yellow, the evenings are crisp and cool, and I’ve been eating apples by the bucketload. People are busy with school, with the harvests and the many parties and celebrations that go along with the harvests. And, at long last, I’m busy too.

The Kyrgyz word for summer is jai, which literally means “slow” and certainly described my life for much of the past few months. Everyone—Peace Corps staff, other volunteers, my host family, my work counterparts—told me to chill out over the summer, to rest, to meet people, improve my language, read a few books, get extra sleep. And I did, repressing the ultra-American/Seifert part of me that likes to have 80 things on my plate and move at 100 mph at all times.

Now though, as kyz (just means “autumn.” No cool double meaning) rolls in, things are picking up for me, and I’m excited. I’m forming a “Youth Health Educator” group, and spent much of the past week visiting local schools to recruit students. Two high school students from each of the four schools in Toktogul have been selected be in my group. We’ll identify pressing health issues for youth here, create lessons and activities to implement in the local schools. My eight students are stellar; we have our first meeting on Monday and I can’t wait.

I’m also teaching four hours of English club per week at a local high school. I constantly get requests to teach English and I mostly agreed to do the club in hopes that some of the haranguement would subsist. But yesterday was my first club, and it felt so good to be back in the classroom. It made me miss my days teaching at good ole Marshall High School last winter! My students are very sweet, and I think that forming relationships with them will help me integrate here. Plus, I plan to have a health bent to many of my English lessons and activities. So how’s that for, as the Kyrgyz say, “killing one rabbit with two bullets”?

Other news is that I’ve moved. No more IKEA palace, no more shower, no more sweet little Malika luring me out to play with her by telling me it’s dinner time (she’s smart, that one, and I fell for it every time). The grandmother in my previous host family fell ill and had to move in, along with other relatives to care for her, and they couldn’t host me anymore. I understood, and now I’m living with another host family. They are great, too—my host “parents” are only 25 and 26; they have an infant son and their 11-year-old nephew lives with them as well.

I really like my new place. Because my hosts are about my age, our relationship is very relaxed. They’re very interested in learning about American culture, and teaching me about theirs. I feel very comfortable in my new space, and have been doing a lot of cooking, which has been great. PLUS, they have a banya, my most favorite way to sweat it out and get clean.

That’s about the update, friends. The weather's changed here, things are rolling along, and overall life is ever so good. Hoping you’re all well, and sending my love.

Roses and Thorns

Time is passing. The summer heat has finally yielded to pleasantly warm days and cool nights. The mountains are capped with a new layer of snow. In a few days, I’ll pass the five-month mark of my time in Kyrgyzstan. I’ve learned a thing or two about this place over the past 150-some days. I thought it’d be interesting to share some of my  “roses,” my favorite things about Kyrgyzstan, and some of the…er…“thorns.”

Rose: Roses. Or simply flowers and plants in general. Most Kyrgyz people have vegetable gardens, but they also grow flowers and keep potted plants in their homes. I see a lot of jade plants here, which always reminds me of the jade plants my dad grew in my home in America. It’s nice to be among people who value the beauty of living, growing things.

Thorn: The myth that wind carries dangerous diseases. This myth is particularly frustrating on long, stuffy taxi/bus rides, when fellow passengers refuse to open windows. On my six-hour bus ride to Karakol, I was pleased with myself when I managed to grab a seat right behind an open window. But then, a young father seated near me asked that the window be closed, clearly convinced that the wind would infect his infant with a fatal disease. Not wanting to be the insensitive American who wants babies to die, and lacking the language skills to engage my fellow passengers in a discussion of how diseases are actually spread, I bit my tongue—and sweated it out—for six hours.

Rose: Fresh, delicious, bountiful, cheap, local produce. This is the stuff that yuppies and hippies in America pay the big bucks for—delicious tomatoes grown only miles away, deep pink watermelons, cucumbers by the bucketload, trees that offer more apricots and plums than anyone knows what to do with. In the winter, of course, this will change drastically. But, for now, it’s been darn good.

Thorn: Sheep fat. Specifically the widespread belief that it is 1) tasty 2) healthy and 3) will make you strong and capable of producing many children, and thus should be eaten often and in great quantities.

Rose: Families take care of eachother. Within a very short period of time, my host family in Toktogul took in an orphan (somehow related to us) who had nowhere else to go, and my host dad’s mother who needed care following a stroke. This is the norm here—in fact, there are very few nursing homes or orphanages here because they aren’t needed. Families are big, and very close-knit. When someone needs to be taken care of, Kyrgyz families step up and make sure no one gets left out in the cold.

Thorn: Kurut. I have to give the Kyrgyz people credit for finding some pretty creative uses for horse’s milk, but kurut is one I could gladly go without. It is horse’s milk boiled until it becomes solid, and is then formed into balls. At some point, an obscene amount of salt is added. Kyrgyz people eat this like candy. Personally, I consider it to be one of the more offensive things I’ve ever tasted. 

Rose: MOUNTAINS. The beautiful, beautiful mountains, everywhere you look. This country—particularly my little corner in Toktogul—is absolutely stunning. I feel so lucky to have the opportunity to spend two years in such a gorgeous place.

Nur Bala Camp

I spent the past week in the northern province of Talas, home of epic Kyrgyz hero Manas, as well as the country’s only McDonald’s. While it was great to eat chicken nuggets and see Manas’s 1100-year-old pants (which were giant. He was a big dude), the real reason I journeyed north was to work at a camp for children with disabilities. The camp was organized by an organization called Nur Bala, where another PCV named Huy works. Nur means  something along the lines of “ray of light;” bala means “child.” Nur Bala works to address the extremely undermet needs of disabled children in Talas City and neighboring villages. The camp allowed kids and their caregivers to get a break from normal life, to receive some education on health and nutrition, but mostly to play games and do crafts and relax.

We had about 15-20 kids (some came a day or two late, some left early) between the ages of 3 and 15, with a range of disabilities. Some were wheelchair-bound, some used crutches to get around, some had developmental delays. It was difficult to find activities that worked for everyone, but crafts were a big hit. We spent a lot of time making bracelets, painting and coloring, and making origami. “Red light, green light” turned out to be a pretty popular. Rest time, on the other hand, was not popular.

Befor this camp, I had very little experience working with kids with disabilites. It was interesting, and certainly relevant for me as I will be doing similar work in Toktogul come autumn. The kids were bright and sweet, and it was encouraging to see most of them with very loving and engaged caretakers. On the hand, there are so few resources for kids with disabilities here. Many of them only go to school for a few years, if at all, and tend not to leave the house much. It makes me wonder what these kids’ lives would be like if they had access to the resources that are available in the States (not to say, however, that all disabled individuals in the States have access to these resources).

In autumn, I’ll work on a project with Ratbu, an English teacher/rockstar in Toktogul. Two PCVs from days past (aka 2010) are coming from the States to help implement the project, which will allow kids with disabilities to create skits about their experiences and perform them at Toktogul’s culture center. I’m sure I’ll learn more about the lives of disabled individuals in Kyrgyzstan, and will have even more to report on the matter.

Otherwise, it was nice to spend a week in Talas. There were several volunteers helping at the camp, and we all stayed at Huy’s apartment in Talas City every night. We spent a lot of time cooking and eating—mac n’ cheese, tamale pie, chocolate chip cookies, and SO MUCH WATERMELON. It was nice to have a week of reduced sheep consumption, and to kick back with other Americans for a few days.

In a few minutes, I’ll hop a taxi back to Toktogul. It’s been a good week and I’ve learned a lot, but I am excited to get back home. While I enjoyed spending time with the kids at camp, there is one particular round-faced three-year-old I’m pretty stoked to see.

P.S. There isn’t really a McDonald’s in Talas. Gotcha.

Super cute, but don't be fooled: these two
were very tintek (aka naughty)

Crafts were a hit.

Aidana taking a whiff in order to tell me that I smell bad.
Thanks a lot. 

The group.

This grandpa was awesome. He told me stories about fighting for the
Soviet Union in Afghanistan. Also, he thought it was hilarious to
make fun the American tradition of smiling in photos. 

Beautiful Akilai and her momma. 

Travels

This morning, I was that person—the foreigner walking through Bishkek with a giant hiking backpack and a few extra bags dangling from my shoulders, the American dropping an embarrassing amount of som on French toast and coffee at Sierra, the uber-Western coffee shop in Bishkek. As a Volunteer living in Kyrgyzstan for two years, it’s sometimes frustrating to be taken for a tourist who is just passing through. Today, though, I was willing to play into the stereotype, to soak up air conditioning and wi-fi, and enjoy every bite of that French toast. Because today, after nearly two weeks of traveling around the country, I’m headed home to Toktogul.

The main reason for my trip was a boys’ camp on Lake Issyk-Kul, on the eastern side of the country. The camp—the theme of which was “Teaching Our Boys Excellence”—was organized by Ashley, another volunteer, and run with the help of six of us volunteers. I taught lessons on HIV/AIDS and human reproduction, helped out with various activities, ate a lot of watermelon, swam in the lake and tried not to worry as the boys scampered over giant, slippery rocks as part of our waterfall hike. While I wouldn’t say that 15-17-year-old boys are my absolute favorite type of human, it was cool to see how camps are run and pilot some health lessons that I imagine I will teach often in my time here.

It takes two days to travel from Toktogul to Issyk-Kul, and I made sure to attach stops for visiting and hiking on either end. Before the camp, I spent a wonderful day in the city of Karakol with other volunteers Maryn, Maddie and Max. Maryn made us pancakes and coffee, showed us all over town, introduced us to ashylan foo (a cold, spicy noodle dish. Yummmmm) and was generally a wonderful host. After the camp, Max and I stayed with Ashley in her village outside Karakol, and did a gorgeous day hike to some hot springs. The hike made me realize why Kyrgyzstan is sometimes called the Switzerland of Central Asia. I felt like I was in the Sound of Music the whole time, and had to work pretty hard to keep from breaking out into “The Hills are Alive.”

From Issyk-Kul, Max and I headed back to Bishkek. We met up with fellow volunteers Larissa, Nicole and John for a two-day hike into Ala-Archa National Park, a roughly 40-minute drive south of the city. It took us about seven hours to make it up a gorge to Ak Sai Glacier, and was perhaps the most breathtaking and challenging hiking of my life. At the top, we stayed at a [very rustic] lodge and met mountaineers from Germany, Korea, Britain, Japan, Russia….many of whom use the lodge area as a base camp for further hiking. We hiked down the next day, with plans to return and hike further into the park as soon as we can.

After the hike, I spent an extra day bumming around Bishkek. Yesterday, I ate sushi AND Mexican food, saw many other volunteers and even did a bit of clothes shopping. Being in Bishkek is a little disconcerting—often I feel more like I’m in Chicago or Ann Arbor than Kyrgyzstan—but it’s been so wonderful to relax, to see new places and spend time with other volunteers.

In just a few minutes, I’ll begin the journey back to Toktogul. I’m excited to see my host family, to sleep in the same bed (and to sleep in a bed) for more than one night, to get back to work with renewed energy. As I make my way down that winding road to Toktogul, crammed into a taxi between sweaty Kyrgyz ladies, stopping along the way for chai and kimiz (fermented horse milk) and smoke breaks and more kimiz and lord knows what else, I imagine that any doubt about where I am will disappear. It’s been a great trip, but it’s also great to feel that Toktogul is my home, and that it’s time to return there.

Max and Maryn eating ashylan foo

Russian Church in Karakol.

Lake Issyk-Kul

Hot springs at Altin Aryshan outside of Karakol

Our hiking group in Ala Archa!

Me and the ever-so-lovely Larissa.

About halfway up.

The lodge we stayed in at Ak Sai Glacier. 

Surveying the land. 

At the top!

Beautiful Ala Archa National Park.

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