A Midsummer Night’s Update

I keep saying I need to be better about updating this blog. Then I don’t do it. Sorry. Part of it is that I get busy. Part of it is that I get lazy. Part of it is that I occasionally get paranoid about who’s reading this and the impact it , or could have, on my life here.  Enough excuses. On with the show.

At last I’ve returned to site after a summer adventure through Kazakhstan. My adventure started with stops in Astana and Almaty to do FLEX PDO trainings. What’s a FLEX? Who’s a PDO? Good questions, loyal and frustrated because of lack of new content readers. Good questions, indeed. FLEX is the Future Leaders Exchange Program – a program administered by the good folks at American Councils. Essentially, it’s a U.S. Government program that sends kids from Central Asia and the former Soviet Union to study at a U.S. high school for a year. It’s a great program. PDO is pre-departure orientation. Essentially, it’s a seminar that helps prepare FLEX exchange students for their year in America. As they have the basic language skills they need already – the students go through a LENGTHY selection process that assesses multiple dimensions. In Kazakhstan there were approximately 5000 applicants and only 90 finalists! – PDO helps provide the students tools for adjustment to living in U.S. culture, living with a host family, integrating into their high school and community, etc.

FLEX PDO was incredible. I could go on forever about how great the students were, how incredible our teachers and teaching assistants were, but I’ve got a lot of summer ground to cover. I’ll try to sum it up as such: I had an opportunity to work with two groups of the best and brightest students in Kazakhstan. It was one of the absolute highlights of my service. I’m grateful to American Councils and FLEX for the opportunity to teach at the PDOs, and I’m thankful I got to meet so many wonderful students.

After PDO I took a train to Aktobe to meet Tyler and Melissa for a quick jaunt to the Caspian Sea. Before leaving for the sea I got to make my first trip to Melissa’s site, which was really nice. We caught the train to the Caspian from Melissa’s site. From there we rolled into the desert of the Mangistau region of Kazakhstan. It was hot. Inside and out. It was over 100 degrees Fahrenheit…in the train. At that point, since outside was hotter, the only difference was breeze or lack thereof. The lack was inside the train, unfortunately. Mangistau was impressive. Wish we could have explored it more. As it was, we decided to spend our time relaxing on the beach. Why, yes, I have summered at the Caspian!

After the Caspian it was a sweaty train ride back to Melissa’s site to celebrate her birthday. Good times were had by all. Except the guy at the club who Melissa told not to talk to her because he was 12. And the guy’s friend who tried to start a fight with Melissa to defend his friend’s honor or something. I really have no idea what happened, but it was rather amusing at the time.

On the train ride back three noteworthy things happened. One, I had the only emergency window in the car. Nice in an emergency exit situation. Otherwise, the thing doesn’t open. Due to the aforementioned 100+ degree temps, this was bad. Two, a crazy lady at one stop started yelling at Tyler and Melissa. She was clearly touched. A brick shy of a load. Lights on, nobody home. But she was yelling. A lot. In Kazakh. Wouldn’t shut up. It got on my nerves. It’s not unusual here to have people give you a piece of their mind on things that in America people would just keep their mouths shut about. More often than not it is unsolicited, bossy-sounding advice about what you should or shouldn’t be doing. And as flexible as I’ve learned to be, down deep in our core Americans HATE being told what to do. So I started yelling back at the crazy lady. In Kazakh. Not my finest hour, but I hope we’ll all be laughing about it later. And that she didn’t get me with the evil eye. None of us had our charms when it happened! And three, I met a guy who works for one of the oil companies here. He’s a local guy who has been working there for 8 years. It was really interesting to talk with him (in English) about his job and to learn more about that industry. He has a great job with great pay and benefits. And speaking English really helped him succeed. I hope I can use him as an example to motivate my students.

After Aktobe, part 2, I returned to Almaty and then came back to Aksu.

Today was a mixed bag. I went to the post office to pick up a package that had been sent about 5 weeks before I left for Astana. It apparently arrived a week later. When I went to pick it up, I was met by one of the Russian speaking P.O. clerks. At first I thought she was giving me the business for taking 3 weeks to come pick up a package. My Russian, you see, is a bit lacking. I caught maybe half of what she said, but caught all of that I was getting the business. I went to the window, the guy took my form, ran to a different spot, came back and said a Russian word I did know that put it all in context. He said “back”. Yeah. The package got sent back after sitting for 3 weeks. Now, even though the lady was giving me the business, she was actually being motherly and apologetic. Or as close to apologetic as it gets here by American standards. It was an interesting moment. I was upset about the package, but not as angry as I would have been in the past. It is what it is. Sometimes these things happen. Plus, understanding (or at least choosing this way of interpreting the exchange) that the lady was not berating me, just telling me what happened in the way that is culturally common, even if seemingly harsh to U.S. standards, made me feel like maybe I had integrated somewhat after all.

That and the fact that on the way to my failed P.O. mission I saw one of the locals I know at the library. He invited me to come back because there was a presentation of a new book happening. I did go back, and it was awesome. The book was a collection of poetry and other writings of a local gentleman. Though his hair was still very dark, he definitely was Aksakal in status and age (white beard – wise, old guys). It was really wonderful to sit and observe people from around the region who had come to honor this man and his work. They asked me to play a song on dombura and say a few words. I hadn’t played in over a month, so it was rough. The words, while just as rough, I felt pretty proud of. In essence, I tried to say that Kazakh culture is beautiful and strong. It survived 70 years of repression and is thriving today. Though the idea was conveyed differently as my vocabulary in Kazakh is not nearly that well-developed. Survive, thrive – no clue how to say those things. But I think the idea came across. Plus, the gentleman was given 3 shapans – these are traditional Kazakh garments. I was honored to be a part of that celebration.

And that, in short, is what I’ve been up to. Probably forgot some things. It’s what happens when I go for months without an update. Shame on me.