Dear Mom,
Jan 15
A few details before I start the journal letter. When we
arrived back here on Tuesday, we found that there was no heat because of
an accident at the heating plant. We have heard a variety of stories
from a variety of sources, but here seems to be the core of it. Either
the weight of the snow on the roof was too much or a boiler exploded,
causing the roof to collapse and take out seven of the nine boilers. So
now there is none to little heat in the city. It has been promised that
the electricity will be on 24-7 (all the time - 24 hours a day, 7 days a
week) which was true for Tuesday but not yesterday. Apparently the prez
has declared KO to be a disaster area. I won't hold my breath to see
the government help and financial come pouring in.
Yesterday, Wednesday, was mail day! We got seven packages of
varying size and a bunch of letters. I am going to list who sent
packages along with their e-mails or phone numbers - please contact them
and let them know they arrived. First off, Paul got two: one big one
from his parents, I think, with a basketball, and a soccer ball. Hey,
Paul, the package had been opened by the postal Gestapo, so I took a
gander inside. Can I wear your new slippers? And I know that Green Bay
sweater shirt is for me! Paul also got a package from a friend with
three rock and roll tapes - one of them is a Guns and Roses tape. Joan
says that he has a friend who is trying to turn him into a metal fan.
Maybe his name was Dave?
In terms of our packages:
1) Connie and Ron Aten - one of the Hurricaners swears by the Misty Mate
and the cat hates the Wild Weasel!
2) Kent Helton - you the man! I love you . . .
3) Pete Roeffers (how the hell do you spell that last name?) - cool pics
and thanks for the spatula - (916) 453 8676 - I think his e-mail is
roffers@montara.cdf.ca.gov but he said in a letter that he had not been
getting the e-mails but may have contacted you already about it so it
may not matter . . .
4) Gail Curtis - thanks for the silky stuff
5) Bob and Marilyn Kellum - thanks for the books and videos
6) Dorothy Lambert - nylons and newspapers. Go UW!
7) Kris Cody - a package of letters from her school which is Joan's
World Wise School - I will tell more about that later.
We also got a bunch of mail from everybody. I shan't tell as I
can't remember. But a huge thanks to all who sent packages. It is so
nice to get things from home, especially peanut butter - that's our new
desire.
Back to the journal letter - this was written during training.
That's right - a hand-written letter? You'll have to type this
one yourself. I'm in the opening blah blah blah session of IST (In
Service Training) and will have lots of spare/boring time to write. I
want to try to catch up before we go back to site; I will try to find
someone to carry this letter back to the States. It think a few PCVs -
older ladies with crappy living/working conditions who have brand new
grandchildren waiting at home and daughters who are single mothers with
busy working schedules who need help - are thinking about going home
after IST. Who can blame them? Kaz has not lived up to a lot of the
expectations of our group. People who wanted a really cool experience
with a foreign, exotic culture are sorely disappointed by the real
situation here.
One nice touch this weekend was the arrival of Jeff and Carlene
Peregrine from Kyrgystan. They were the other married couple in Kaz 5
and are a wonderful couple. Peace Corps Kazakstan was not what they
were looking for and did not meet their expectations/desires/needs.
They were assigned to Timertau, near Karaganda, apparently a really bad
site - a steel mill town with big problems with unemployment, pollution,
crime, and drugs. When they first arrived, there was no accommodations
for them, the counterpart was not to be found, and Carlene's work place
was looking really bad. Jeff couldn't see the director of his school
because he been shot and murdered earlier. So they decided that it
wasn't for them and luckily were reassigned to a small, mud house up in
the mountains of Kyrgystan. They came up this weekend to visit before
heading back to Bishkek for their own IST. Jeff, who was a real cowboy
back in the states, has the opportunity to ride horses and herd
livestock. We hope to visit them in the Spring before it gets too hot.
Hey, ask Paul if he is going to bring his tent back with him!
So, I think I e-mailed you via Kazbek last week, an e-mail that
went up until our arrival in Almaty, so I'll take up from there.
The train was due to arrive at 5 in the morning but didn't
arrive until 6:30. The PCMO, Dawn, met us at the station with a
wheelchair and a vehicle. It was so nice to finally get him into a
wheelchair, into proper medical care, and out of ours! I love Paul
dearly and had no problem taking care of him, but it was kind of
stressful and worrying with the severity of his leg and helping him get
around.
Marion, the UN volunteer who came with us, was not met by any UN
people which caused her to dither, so I went with her to Hotel Kazakstan
to help her check in - the PC driver picked me up there later and took
me to Dawn's apartment where Joan and Paul were.
Note - from what I have heard from the UN people, Marion has
gone back home to the states. The UN tends to drop people right into
the thick of it with no training (language or cultural), and this
assignment, I feel, was too rough for her. Her physical health along
with her personality were not up to the rigors of KO in the winter - the
summer, yes, but not the winter. Typical UN crappese . . .
Paul was enthroned in Dawn's apartment - actually it was Jean's,
the admin officer, apartment that Dawn was watching because Jean's son
had died (hit by a car while walking back in the states). The apartment
had all the luxuries of home - even Direct TV (satellite) - I saw ESPN
live! The PC office also has Direct TV in the kitchen, but of course,
PCVs aren't allowed in the office after hours in typical PC small
mindedness and pettiness. We had Starbucks coffee and cinnamon rolls.
How quickly one forgets the pleasures of home and how much they mean
when they appear again. It almost made us cry. I know this has been
said by many people before, but you really don't appreciate what you've
got until it's gone. The convenience of daily of life in America is
amazing. This isn't judgmental or anything, but you folks don't know
how easy you've got it. I feel really bad for people here who have no
idea how easy life could be and how much they are getting cheated by the
politicians out of the basic joys and eases of life just so the corrupt
bastards can pad their pockets some more. Nazerbyef, the prez, is
already obscenely rich and just keeps taking more and more money while
the people have nothing and the situation gets worse and worse. I'm not
bitter or anything . . .
Since it was X-mas eve day, we heard there was a party in
Talgar, east of Almaty, where Joe Bonner (Kaz 5) is posted. We went to
Jen's (Kaz4) house to meet Joe, Meridith Spungen (Kaz5 and '97 Wooster
graduate - you might want to contact Wooster via phone or their web page
to let them know that we are here together) along with Lyzzat, medical
staff and friend of PCVs. Jen shares a large apartment with a local
woman; they both have two rooms that are separated by the
kitchen/bathroom/hallway. She is very happy with her 'host family' and
is her best friend, although there were some rough spots at the
beginning. Some PCVs live with host families and a have a variety of
good and bad stories. Sun (his name - Kaz5) was posted as an English
teachers in Kapchigai and lives with the same host family he had during
training and is very happy - good opportunity to improve language
skills, someone to cook meals and do laundry, etc... Meredith in Issyk,
also east of Almaty, however, has a hellish situation where her host
mother doesn't want her to leave site and refuses to treat her like an
adult. It doesn't help that Meredith is probably five feet or less and
looks about as old as her students. Her host mother conspires with
Meredith's school director to keep her at site by scheduling her at
awkward times on the weekends and on holidays; it's driving her crazy
and driving her into her own apartment. Her director doesn't want her
to live alone and in a rather confrontational scene, Meredith told her
director, "I can live alone in Issyk, or I can live alone . . . in New
York City." I think she will be getting her own place soon.
At Jen's house, we had a wonderful meal of baked ziti, mashed
potatoes, garlic bread, etc. We drank wine and sang X-mas carols -
thanks to Joan's parochial upbringing - before falling asleep on
mattresses on the floor. I definitely need to learn more songs as the
locals can just belt out a whole stable of songs at the drop of a hat;
we Americans sure have lost our musical heritage. What could a group of
Americans sing accurately at the drop of a hat? Take Me Out To The Ball
Game? The Star Spangled Banner?
We spoke to you at Connie and Ron's the next morning, X-mas
morning, and then headed back to Almaty, about a half hour ride on a
small, crowded bus. The ride out to Talgar was a real joy. A cold,
drafty bus that would not shift into gear unless the driver beat on the
gearstick while cursing, sliding on the snowy road. Every time it
stopped at an 'as-ta-nov-ka' (bus stop), it stalled and took forever to
start up again. Joy.
The next few days were spent with Jason Compy at Mike Stewart's
(Business Assistant Peace Corps Director - APCD) apartment while he was
home in the States. Jason was house-sitting and a few PCVs were using
the floor as a free place to crash - Mike has a washer and dryer too!
He also has a dog, Sheba, who had a severe pooping problem on a dark
carpet where you can't see it and are more likely to step on it! Damn
dog - she is a puppy, a big Boxer puppy, though, and people were
definitely not walking her or paying attention to the "I've got to go
outside now" signals from the dog. One night we played poker - 200
tenge got you 200 beans and the betting was furious. I played a fair
amount of poker during IST and lost most of the time.
Paul was still around for this week, and we saw some of him, but
not too much because we were sick of his ugly mug (Hi, Paul!) and he was
busy spending time with Brian, not with the people who took care of him
when he was hurt and needed help - I even helped him bath - Talk about
thanks! "Tee boo-dish plah-teet," Kaplan! (you will pay). He come up
to Jason's house one night. Escorting him around the slippery streets
of Almaty on crutches was quite a thrill. The lights are not very long,
and it was hard for him to cross the street before it changed. And the
drivers here are morons. So they would try to run him down as he was
hurriedly hobbling. I had to jump in front of cars with my hands out
and yell at the SOBs to make them stop. These people . . . no
bitterness on my part.
We found a vegetarian Indian restaurant which was the best part
of the whole visit. It is run by a group of Hari Krishna people in
Almaty who sell books and incense on the streets and sidewalks. Luckily
by claiming to not speak any Russian, one does not have to deal with the
peddling. It is not actually a restaurant but their apartment with
three tables set up in their living room. You walk in the door off the
stairwell - no sign - take off your shoes, go past the bathroom and
toilet (just like our apartment) and into the living room where the
walls are covered with Indian prints of gods and famous holy men. They
have a beautiful shrine set up in the corner made from table tops and
table legs, all painted in gorgeous colors with figurines of gods and
small offerings. With incense burning and traditional Indian music
(sitar and drums) and the 'staff' wearing saris and traditional clothing
and their faces painted in Indian custom, one could almost forget they
were Caucasian and that we were in Kazakstan. While not the best Indian
food I've had, it was an incredibly different and pleasant change from
the local fare. The whole basic meal was only 230 tenge with dessert
and lhassi (yogurt drink) rounding it up to 300 which is a very cheap
alternative to eating in Almaty where most meals start at 400 for
crappy, small portions.
The menu is set by each day - Thursday is curry day - which
means that when you sit down, the food is already prepared and appears
almost immediately. Normal hours are 12-4, but if you call a day in
advance, you can make reservations for up to 10 people for dinner - at
the same price! It was a very popular place with the PCVs. We took
three different groups of ten there for dinner that week and went home
stuffed each time. We also found a brew pub just down the street that
serves a very tasty half of German style lager in a big, ol' mug for
only 200 tenge. A half liter beer can from a kiosk costs 80-110 tenge,
so the difference is not bad at all. One last cool thing about the
Indian restaurant is that they deliver to your office if you want!
Weird . . .
There was a big sale the weekend before New Year's called
'Yar-ma-ka' which reminded me of a trade or product exhibition in a
local sports (basketball, I think) arena. I guess it is quite a big
deal with people from all over the former Soviet Union coming and
displaying their wares. Most of it was crappy western goods and
clothes that I would not buy in the states anyway, but the one highlight
was the jewellery! Mom, we bought a lot of stuff in your name - i.e. I
know that you would have bought it since it was so beautiful and so
cheap and therefore will buy it from us at the same price. Iranian,
Ukrainian, Far Eastern Russia, Kazakstani rings, pendants, earrings,
etc. A fairly unique sale considering the structure of this country.
Oh yeah, for you outdoor types, they even had a booth selling North Face
outdoor gear.
And speaking of outdoors, I had the best sledding experience of
my life, even better than the one in New Zealand! I thought I would
never top that . . .
The following description will actually cover three separate
trips on the same trail. I will try to keep them separate, but they may
merge into one at various points.
The highlight of the weekend was a hiking trip up into the
mountains. Sergay, the local staffer who took us up on that big camping
trip during the summer, told of a nice, round-trip (not up and back down
the same trail) hike below Medeo - the ice skating arena and ski area -
that went up to about 9,000 feet. So we decided to take a stab at it on
Saturday.
Due to confusion about the bus schedule and where the buses
stop, by the time Joan, Joe and I got it all figured out, there was not
enough daylight left to do it. So on Sunday, Joe and I set off alone to
try again.
Again not understanding how the buses work, we watched two #6
buses blow past us until we figured out that the bus only stops at
certain stops, one of which we were not standing at.
Finally a bus dropped off at a bus stop at the foot of a snowy
road that twisted away up the mountainside, one stop before Medeo. Joe
and I shouldered our packs and headed up this road, following a crude
and confusing map drawn by Sergay. Luckily a local with a backpack and
skis was going the same way and pointed is the right direction whenever
we got confused.
The road, covered with snow and ice, wound its way up
the slope between houses nestled into the hillside. We branched off up
a track and across a stream and through some hamlets that smelled of
goat and other rural pleasantries.
A small track led up through an orchard on a steep hill; the
trail was relatively beaten down but slippery with snow. There was
probably a foot or so of snow on the ground. On the other face of the
hill face a beautiful stand of birch trees that filtered the sunlight.
It was a clear, sunny day, and about halfway up that slope, I
quickly stripped down to only a long john top and bottom as I had
overheated. The locals strip down even more in the summer! Dixie told
us a story of hiking in the mountains with a woman in her 70s who, when
too hot, stripped down to her underwear and bra and kept going straight
up the hill in tennis shoes. They were later passed by an old man going
straight up as well wearing nothing but tennies and his underoos. The
people do amazing things in the mountains here with either no gear or
some of the worst gear I've ever seen. Huge backpacks with no waist
support and thin, unpadded canvas shoulder straps to support all the
weight. Heavy canvas tents, canned goods, all kinds of heavy stuff to
carry up and down the mountain; no wonder they are so fit, the ones that
hike and camp.
The first half of the hike was uphill (duh), and at one point,
Sergay, the PC staffer, caught up with us. He had been on the bus,
about a meter away in the crowd but had not initiated contact with us as
he is a bit of an introvert. He is not into idle conversation, and I
think that American desire to make chit chat makes him uncomfortable.
One of his nicknames is "the Terminator;" he is a strong,
non-communicative, Soviet-type. When he occasionally relaxes and opens
up, he is quite friendly and animated, but this rarely happens. He
doesn't like food; he views it only as fuel for the machine. On the big
hiking trip, he actually said, "I don't like food."
He had thought we were going all the way up to Medeo and had
been surprised when we jumped off the bus at the last minute. He got
off at Medeo and hiked down the road to the stop and quickly caught up
with us. Sergay is a monster hiker (he is in some of the photos from
the big trip - wearing a white long sleeve t-shirt, shorts, baseball
hat, and a frown.) and during the big hike, he carried two backpacks -
one on the front and one on the back - and ran up and down the mountain.
He constantly pulled away from us and had to wait for us as we pantingly
caught up. Without many switchbacks, the trail basically went straight
up through the pine trees and occasional clearings. The blood pounded
in my ears every time I stopped for a breather.
The view of the mountains was spectacular: pine forests clinging
to the hillsides, craggy peaks, snowy slopes, and icy passes. At one
point, we could see the up and down paths we took on our big hike. I
took some photographs to make a panoramic view from spliced together
photos.
We finally made it to a snowy, alpine meadow. From this point,
some people climb higher to ski and sled down the smooth slope of the
meadow, some continue on a trail through the valley, and some, like us,
turn right, go over the ridge and head down the trail toward the city.
There were a fair amount of people there - putting on skis,
sledding on the meadow slope, hiking, and eating lunch (that would have
been us). It was sunny and warm as we sat on the slope and listened to
the voices and laughter bouncing off the rocks and snow. Sounds carried
a long way up there. But there were also moments of profound silence
where no sounds intruded, a silence that seemed huge and to press down
on your ears.
After a yogurt, Snickers bar and some bread, we climbed over the
ridge and down through the tree line. It is an old trail that has been
beaten down by years of feet. Not only was the snow beaten down into a
two foot wide rut, but the earth itself had been worn away over the
years, leaving a groove, a tube that wound down the mountainside. I
actually think that the locals have dug out sections of the trail to
form a perfect half tube because it is too perfect, too straight.
We had nothing to slide on, but the trail was slippery enough
that we had some fun rides while standing. We vowed to return again
with sliding materials, and we did, but that will come later.
The trail led down into an area of dachas in the foothills of
the mountains. All the slopes are covered with terraces and small
buildings - no space is wasted. It looked like some images I have seen
of Italy. I don't think it was the same area as the grandparents'
dacha, but it was identical in appearance (see photo).
We hit a road and wound our way down the valley, at one point
cutting through a state-run (at least it used to be) sanatorium (health
spa/R & R place) with beautiful, wooden cabins. At a turn around point
in the road, we found a bus waiting that took us down and dumped us off
at the main road where another bus picked us up and took us downtown to
Jason's temporary lodgings. As the married couple, we got dibs on the
only extra bed, a single, with the argument that we could share it and
get two for one - pretty sneaky, no? Bob Alexander, I know you are
making a snide remark somewhere out there. By the way ("ka-stah-tee" in
Russian), Bob, thanks for the package with the letter, pen and coffee.
Both have been immensely, although Joan wants more coffee!
On Monday, we just putzed around at the PC office - I found this
cool game on the computer in the Volunteer lounge called 'Warcraft'
which wasted most of my time. By the evening, a group of PCVs in town
for various reasons had gathered, and we decided to get some take out
(yes! take out!) from a 'kul-you-nair-ee-ya' ( a store that has prepared
salads and foods and well as a lot of western food stuffs - quite a nice
treat at not bad prices) and eat it in the PC kitchen while watching
Direct TV from the States. We hung out there for awhile, just
socialising and watching CNN and ESPN. As much as I despise TV, it was
really nice.
There is a guard who is in the office after hours to deal with
emergencies, although the lack of English language skills is often
annoying and frustrating. Well, there was a phone call at around 10:30
which the guard asked me to pick up. It was Wylie Williams, the Peace
Corps Director (PCD). Here's the conversation:
- Hello, this is Rich Bailey.
- Hi, this is Wylie Williams . . . I hear you're having quite a party
there.
- Uh, no. We're just hanging out, watching CNN.
- Well, I expressly stated in a memo in the newsletter this summer that
the PC office was off-limits to volunteers after-hours. (We, as
trainees, did not get the newsletter in the summer.)
- Oh, . . . well . . .
- So, I'd appreciate it if you all could be out of there in a half hour.
- Sure, OK.
Bye bye blah blah. Just because some Kaz3 idiots got drunk and
stupid in the volunteer lounge (which is the smallest room in the whole
office but is for the largest amount of people) during their COS (close
of service) conference, all PCVs now cannot be there after hours, which
I guess is after 8 pm. It really is annoying that the PC office is not
'there' for us; it is one of the major beefs we have with the office.
It's all talk about how we're all one big family, all hot air when it
really comes down to it.
When Jeff and Carlene were here, they told us about how much
more supportive the Kyrgystan staff is: they even have a person in the
office whose only job is to help volunteers, take care of their problems
and keep them happy. It must be nice.
We figured out that it must have been the new, 17 year old,
office guard who didn't like us watching 'his' TV after hours, so he
called daddy, who is also a guard there, who must have called the
Director.
This new guard is young and better watch out because a lot of
the PCVs have had problems with him. He often is on the phone all night
long or has his girlfriend (female companion) hanging out there with
him. He needs to be nice to the PCVs who will be nice to him, or he
could quickly find himself without his cushy job which I'm sure supports
his family - nice nepotism.
There are problems with the guards downstairs as well. The PC
office is in a building with a bank, so there are all kinds of kooky
security issues. It took PC a long time to get permission for people to
come in to the building even after 5 pm. The doorguards, especially
later at night, are very reluctant to open the door, and sometimes it
requires long periods of banging to get them to appear. I've stories of
guards with bottles of vodka and women in each hand.
Well, the next part of the letter goes on to Kapchigai and the
New Year, but I will wait until tomorrow as I have been typing all day
and my hands are tired. I hope this has been interesting so far - there
is so much more!
love,
Rich