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With the passage of time, this will probably be a hiliarious story, though I still feel really foolish at the moment. Tonight I went to a birthday party for Anelia, the youngest host sister from the family who hosted me during my site visit in Aksu. One small problem – the party’s on Monday.

The party was to be held at the cafe Anelia’s parents own. As I cruised up to the cafe I didn’t recognize a lot of the guests and they all seemed a bit overdressed for a birthday party – even by Kazakhstan standards. They weren’t, however, overdressed for a wedding. And that’s why they were there. Totally confused, my Kazakh picked a lousy time to briefly evade me. After a few minutes of trying to explain why I was there, Anelia’s father invited me in. And then I got to go in to the wedding reception. Sat at Anelia’s father’s table with the groom’s mother. At this point I realize I’ve made an epic mistake, but I’m also not going to be able to gracefully exit, either.

The groom’s mother told me that she was glad to have me there, and she and Balrabai, Anelia’s dad, insisted I stay and eat. I ate and I enjoyed the reception. But I really felt awkward. And got out of there as soon as I was given what I hope was the all clear. Otherwise I may have violated multiple cultural norms!

Times like this make me really happy to know how open and welcoming people can be. Especially when I do something stupid like that…. It’s also nice to be able to play the American card – he doesn’t know any better!

Never a dull moment. First wedding crashed, check. Scale – international. Feeling like the north end of a southbound horse – free.

The whisperings began about a week and a half before last bell. At first it was, “Someone very important might come to our last bell.” Then it was less subtle, “The Prime Minister might come to our last bell, but the director said she’d kill us if we told anyone and people on the street asked her about it.”

“Cool, the Prime Minister is coming,” I think. Of course I was reluctant to believe it. I mean, after all, he’s the number two guy in the country – his schedule is highly subject to change. Then again, could be a nice photo op…maybe, maybe. We’re a Kazakh Gymnasium, so it’s good for boosting national pride and whatnot. Hey, it could happen.

And so began the steady stream of dignitaries. At first, it was just a representative from the local akimat. Then the deputy akim came to check things out. I always like to see him. He’s a nice guy. Also, for some reason he reminds me of Eugene Levy, and who doesn’t love Eugene Levy, right?

But that wasn’t the end. No friends, only the beginning. Next was our town education department director – a representative may have come before that, too. That in itself isn’t quite as big a deal because his wife is one of our zavuches, his daughter graduated from the gymnasium and his son graduated this year. Still, in this instance it was a good sign of things to come.

The next day the place was in a tizzy. This time the town akim was coming. But he wasn’t coming alone. No, he was coming with the oblast akim. Essentially, the mayor and the governor were popping in to see if we were up to snuff. That day I got to sit in waiting in a physics class that is taught in English for the akims (or akimler if you want to get Kazakh with your plurals). They came, they saw, they apparently approved.

Soon the rehearsals began. We rehearsed the last bell ceremony several hours a day, every day, during the last week of classes. In the cold, in the rain. Indoors and out. We practiced. Now, my role in the ceremony was to stand in one place, clap when everyone else clapped and sing the national anthem with as much vigor as possible when it played. Still not entirely 100% on the words, but I gave it my best every time.

At first we practiced under the watchful eye of one of our zavuches, then zavuch and director. Then other people started to come and watch and adjust. First the town education department director and deputy akim came. Then the oblast education department director and deputy director came. They watched and made further adjustments. I start thinking there might be something to this visit after all.

Then the oblast deputy akim came. She took the bull by the horns and made the final adjustments. They were quick, decisive, authoritative and certainly no-nonsense. All the female dignitaries were like that. It’s pretty amazing to watch, actually. Women in power here are much scarier when they’re mad. And they all seem to be really in control of things. With most of the men in power, it’s just sort of like, “Oh yeah, I guess he’s in charge.” With the women, though, it’s, “Yeah, she’s definitely in charge and God help me if I screw up.” The aura of power and authority they have is something else. They don’t tolerate no mess, you might say. At the same time, all folks in power here that we saw at this event would on occasion joke with the youngest students and gently help them out. It was a touching dichotomy.

Moving back from that tangent, the day I realized this was probably undoubtedly a go was when the Prime Minister’s representative came to the school to briefly meet with the upper echelon. I actually bumped into him in the hallway as the whole group was leaving and got to meet him. He seemed impressed that I knew a little Kazakh. Then we had a brief talk (that I mostly understood) about what a great instrument the dombura was. He was also impressed that I was learning to play.

The day it really hit home was when we started practicing outside for the first time with the final script. We’d practiced outdoors the entire time. The entire time we had a PA system. But once they said the PM’s name on the loudspeaker the secret was out and it had to be for real.

And it was. On May 25, the day of last bell, we waited around for many hours for his schedule to clear. We had several false alarm scrambles for the front before finally taking our places to get the show on the road. A few police cars started to roll in randomly, but it didn’t really seem caravan-like. Then I heard rotors. Two helicopters flew over heading toward the outskirts of town. That’s where both a new school and hospital are being built. After touring those, I assume, the caravan finally arrived. Lots of cars. The interesting thing is that the VIPs seemed to be in microbuses, not luxury sedans.

And then we began. Good times. There didn’t seem to be a vast armed security presence, which is a stark contrast to a visit by any major US political figure. That’s not to say that he didn’t have people. I attracted plenty of attention in the school from security dudes in suits. Outside, too. I had to show my Peace Corps ID inside the building to one of the guys. I was standing outside the physics classroom – I was supposed to sit in on a physics class later in the day the PM was going to attend. He (security suit) starts grilling me in Russian, which I don’t understand, about what I’m doing there. I didn’t have a badge like the other teachers. Mostly because no one ever gave me one…. The physics teacher explained it to him, but it was still a little annoying. Whatever.

All in all, it was a cool visit. Wish I would have gotten my picture made with the PM, or even gotten one of him (cameras were forbidden – they don’t make good photo ops for the real photogs). Didn’t make the newsreel either. But I was there! And that, friends, is last bell with the Prime Minister. A well-orchestrated visit that gave our school great recognition and gave us a chance to strut our stuff for the PM. I hope he liked what he saw.

One week to go and my first academic year as a Peace Corps Volunteer will conclude. Then I get to kick off a month of camp in June! That’s irony, not really excitement, by the way. Still, it’s another milestone in this interesting journey that I’m on.

What I’ve learned along the way so far:

I’m not much of a teacher. At least not when it comes to English. I suppose the students may have gleaned a nugget of knowledge from me on occasion, but I really don’t feel like I did all that much for them. Granted, sometimes that was due to being unable to control the circumstances, but it still stinks. I have a plan for what I’d like to try to do next year, and I hope it will be more successful. Rather, I hope it will feel more successful. Nothing makes you second guess yourself quite as much as watching all your students speak less and less English in class every day…and start speaking more and more Russian (in a Kazakh gymnasium!).

In spite of everything, I have had some recent successes. And those successes came in a most unanticipated form. All my recent successes in engaging students and encouraging them to speak English have come from Uno. Yes, Uno. That perennial favorite card game with a little Spanish language flavor. All my students (7-10 grade) love it. Absolutely love the game. We hit a slight snag early on where one of our school rules (no playing cards during school hours) threatened to torpedo the whole thing. However, when my reaction to said snag was nothing short of white-hot rage, the problem seemed to disappear in a hurry. Seriously, I’m normally pretty laid back. Being too laid back has probably been a bigger problem for me than anything here. But you even think about trying to stop the only thing that the students have responded to in the last six months and you just stepped between a bear cub and its very big, angry momma.

Speaking of mothers, I’m sure mine is reading this and freaking out a little bit about me losing my temper. Rest assured, mom, that it was quite controlled and I calmly stated my point of view in a very cool manner. Also, I learned that not all cultural differences are so bad. In this particular instance I could have totally flipped a switch and it would have been acceptable. Strange but true.

Another upside to all this is that I believe it shows that I’m finally integrating to the point that I understand the rules and know when it’s OK to talk loudly in a way that would be seen as anger in America. The downside is I’ll have to unlearn that before I go back!

So back to Uno, glorious Uno. The vocabulary you need to play the game is simple. There are a few new words that get added in, but all in all it’s not vocab intensive. Incidentally, the words that are new are both card game specific and always forgotten by the students. I don’t know how many times I’ve given the the verb “to shuffle” and the gerund “shuffling” – also surprised that I know what a gerund is now – only to have it forgotten and replace with the motion and attempts at shuffle sound effects. It’s pretty funny actually. None of them can shuffle and bridge the cards, either. They think it’s the coolest thing. I could probably do a whole lesson on shuffling cards!

The first time we played it was chaotic – lots of shouting in Kazakh and Russian and a ton of gesturing to go with it. That’s OK. Learn how to play first. Then comes the fun. New rule – if you speak in Kazakh or Russian you must draw a card. You’d be amazed how quickly the room got quiet. And equally amazed how quickly they started trying to speak in English. Then, my students are quite clever, they insisted that I play using a no speaking English rule. I can only speak Russian and Kazakh. How handy is that?

So there you have it. What could have been a year of horrible attempts at teaching has been saved at the last minute by a simple card game. This place is always full of surprises.

I’ll go ahead and admit that I’m mildly confused as to which holiday it was we celebrated today. I think it was related to Victory Day – it looked a lot like Victory Day – but it’s two days early. My counterpart said that today was the day of celebrating the defenders of the motherland. Both are throwbacks to the Soviet Era. And it’s that nostalgia which brings you today’s post!

Today at noon I went to our local park for the dedication of the memorial the veterans of the Afghan conflict. It was a nice ceremony and they unveiled the monument – a tank. Then flowers and such were placed at the base of the monument and soldiers fired a 9-gun salute. Three guys, three shots. You do the math. Also, many people were given medals by the town’s deputy mayor. A lot of folks here have a lot of medals. Especially the men and women who were involved in the Great Patriotic War (that’s WWII to us). In fact, Victory Day, which takes place May 9, is the celebration of Russia’s victory over Nazi Germany. But I digress.

This afternoon at three I went to the house of culture and watched a concert that was also related to the holiday. Again, very interesting and entertaining stuff.

What I couldn’t help but think about is the irony of my attendance at this ceremony. I’m an American at a ceremony honoring the men of the Soviet Army who fought against the rebels in Afghanistan. A guy from the country who supplied weapons and training to the people who were trying to kill today’s honorees. That’s not something to be taken lightly. It’s even more ironic in light of the fact that now America is engaged in a battle against, essentially, the same enemy in that country. Add to that irony the steady diet of anti-Soviet propaganda we were all fed growing up and you’ve got a seven-course dinner of irony.

Another thing that I found interesting, and would have probably found even more intriguing if I completely understood it, was a song that one of the veterans sang about the conflict. It was a Russian ballad that seemed to, by my best estimation, talk about the war and the fight against the Muslim bandits. What’s interesting about that is that the guy singing the song was Kazakh. The vast majority of Kazakhs are Muslim. So contrary to what we saw in Rambo III, not all the guys fighting in Afghanistan were Russian. Interesting sidebar, one of the volunteers in Pavlodar watched Rambo III recently with his Russian girlfriend. The Russian in the movie was so bad that she thought they were speaking a different language altogether! End sidebar. Now, here we have a war against Muslim extremists that’s pitting Muslims against each other. That just seems like it could be a really difficult thing. But then again, what do I really know about it?

So what did I take away from all this, exactly? Well, it just helped to fortify this ever-growing sense that we’re all the same way down deep. We may have different ideologies, different religions and different cultures, but we’re all human. It’s been a truly eye-opening experience living in this country. Even now, the Soviet influence is still heavy. The system was so deeply ingrained in the populace that it may take decades for it to resolve, if ever it does. The other thing I notice is that even though I spent my whole life being told by American society that the Soviet Union, Communism and Socialism were bad things, it’s very different once you meet the people who lived through those things. It’s also very uplifting to see that even though the Soviet system tried its best to rub out the cultures of the people it absorbed into its collective, the cultures survived.

Today marks my first full day of independent living in Kazakhstan. I’m pretty excited about it. I have my own place. I have high-speed Internet. I have food. All in all, life is good. Interestingly enough, I feel that I’ve really turned a page in my service because of it. Granted, I’m sure I’ll be completely worthless for a few days while I get reacquainted with the Internet, but overall this is a really good thing for me. Maybe not the same for every volunteer, but I think it’s good for me.

I’ve taken to calling the place the Pink Palace. Mostly because the exterior of the building is painted, well, pink. A lovely shade of sun-faded Pepto-Bismol pink. There’s also grey, but it’s mostly pink. I briefly toyed with the idea of calling it the Pink Pony as a nod to the importance of horses in Kazakh culture. Then I decided it sounded too much like a strip club. And in fact there is a strip club in Atlanta called the pink pony (learned this from a volunteer from Atlanta).

Speaking of horses, I had my first kumys a few days ago. What the heck is that? I’m so glad you asked. It’s fermented horse milk. My host mom said it wasn’t a very good example of kumys, though. A little sour, she said…I think. My Russian isn’t so great, but I’m pretty sure that’s what she said. Perhaps you’re wondering what kumys is like? Well, I thought it would be thicker, but it’s pretty thin and runny. It’s fizzy, which I also hadn’t really anticipated. Had a bit of a funky albeit indescribable flavor, too. All in all, not bad. Though I think I’ll hold out for the good stuff next time. Shubat, the camel equivalent of kumys, is thicker according to the host fam. Don’t know that I’m up for that just yet.

A lot has happened lately, but I don’t really even know where to start. I’m just jazzed to be online again! So there you have it friends. The latest and greatest from my world. Also, I have Skype now. So hit me up if you’d like to chat!

Today was the big day. After weeks in the making, we had the community project meeting with all the town’s English teachers. Also on hand were several people from our local education department as well as someone from Pavlodar. It was a really incredible thing to be in a room full of English teachers. These are all people I probably should have met much sooner, but I hope now that this will help to propel my service in a new and exciting direction.

I put together a few PowerPoint presentations for the conference today. One was about me and my experiences in Kazakhstan so far. The other was about the community project. A final presentation I used was a Russian language presentation about Peace Corps. Don’t be too impressed, I didn’t put that one together. Peace Corps gave it to us. Also, they gave us an English version of the same thing, so my translation work was minimal.

It was a fairly surreal day for me. Before the conference started, I was working the room getting everyone’s name and welcoming them all to the conference. And when it was show time I hopped up to the podium and did my thing. I couldn’t help but laugh at the thought that I was suddenly catapulted back into my PR role. Guess my previous work experience paid off, because I felt like things went really well. I think I flubbed maybe three words in the presentation. Made up lots of time that had been lost by folks going over their scheduled speaking times. It was cool.

Now all that remains is to see how this all turns out.

There were definitely some hurdles to overcome on the lead up to this day. I think I was able to help head off some potential problems early on. Unfortunately, I also didn’t anticipate a few things that might still lead to difficulties later. However, there’s no need to worry about them until they actually become issues.

I did have what I would call a Peace Corps moment yesterday during the final prep for the meeting. My counterpart likes to have control of situations in which she’s involved. In regards to wanting to have control of things, she and I are very similar. Our approaches to regaining that control are very different, though. When I don’t have control I tend to take a very systematic, one step at a time approach to solving the problems. When my counterpart doesn’t have control, it tends to stress her out, and when she’s frazzled she runs all over the place trying to address all the problems at once. She’s tough to keep up with, too. The woman has some kind of energy when she’s under stress!

At one point yesterday afternoon we had finished almost every detail related to our conference. All that remained was to finish the speech outline for our director in Kazakh and Russian. The Russian was spot on because my counterpart did it and all her schooling was in Russian. She knows Kazakh, but she usually asks students to help with the translation of that. As she sat looking at that translation with our two zavuches (vice-principals), all three realized that things were not quite right. They all quickly began to correct the speech. And I just sat there. At first, I was a little annoyed that I was just sitting around watching other people work on aspects of this community project without including me. Then I realized that’s exactly what we’re trying to get our communities to do as Peace Corps Volunteers. We want them to take ownership of the projects. We want them to be able to repeat the steps laid out in this project to accomplish other future projects after the Volunteer has left the site forever.

That’s when I had my Peace Corps moment. I realized that everything I was working to achieve by the time I left was already happening. And it was happening much sooner than I would have ever imagined! Not a bad way to end a long day.

And the ending to today’s long day? I made a presentation on Peace Corps to every English teacher in this community. I took steps that will hopefully involve the entire community in my project. Hard for the end of the day to top that mid-day capstone.

I took a trip to the post office today during a break between classes. On my walk back I realized that I was, for the first time since arriving, finally seeing my town. At this point I feel like I know the main features of the place fairly well, but there were so many details I had been missing.

Whether this was caused by physically or metaphorically having my head down for the past several months, I don’t know. It’s safe to wager that I may have missed a few details with my head down, body leaning into the often fierce, frigid winds that punctuated winter. It could also be that the overwhelming shock of all the rapid, continual changes of my life here blocked out all but the most critical features of the world here.

But today things were clearer. The weather may have played a part as well. It was a bright, sunny day with a beautiful pale blue sky mottled by cottony white clouds. The trees aren’t in bloom or even bud, but the first green shoots of grass are making their way skyward.

Today I finally noticed details of buildings that I’ve walked past for months and not realized. Several of the apartment buildings and schools are quite beautiful in their own plain, utilitarian way. Another building that I always saw as being a solid, bulky structure is in fact nothing more than a shell. There are no windows in the frames, frames which have a substantial patina of rust, and the whole thing is open and empty.

I still struggle daily with the challenges of living in this place, but I feel like the general trend of life is an upward one. After the lows of the last few months it’s certainly nice to be heading back up.

There’s still much work to do. And though the Peace Corps stresses flexibility, I think I’ve been confusing flexibility with malaise for some time. To accomplish anything here I’ll need to be persistent and dedicated. It’s still possible to be flexible while doing that. What flexibility isn’t is sitting back and waiting for a better time or opportunity to start something. Flexibility is working voraciously towards a goal from as many different angles as possible. It’s also knowing when it’s time to adjust the goal.

During our training in Almaty we did an exercise about what “hat” we wear in the teamwork process. My primary hat seemed to be the control one. With this knowledge firmly in mind, the previous paragraph is mildly amusing and hardly surprising.

If you’ve made it this far, thanks for hanging in there. I’ll catch you next time around!

I can see the ground again. After the longest and coldest winter of my life, signs of spring are in abundance in Aksu. My mood has improved greatly and I’m just enjoying life. It’s amazing what warm weather and sunshine can do to make things better.

At the end of March the students have a break from classes. A break for the students means it’s a good time for training for PCVs. So I had a date with destiny in Almaty. But before going to Almaty for a week, I decided to join several other volunteers in Shymkent to celebrate Nauryz, the traditional Kazakh and Muslim New Year.

Getting to Shymkent was accomplished by spending three days and two nights on a train. For the first time, I rode platzcart instead of coupe. Platzcart is the cheapest way to travel by train. It’s an open car that houses quite a few people. One side of the car has two sets of bunks that flank a table. These beds are perpendicular to the train. On the other side of aisle is one set of bunks that runs parallel to the train. The bottom bunk converts into two chairs and a table. This configuration continues for the duration of the car, except for the ends, which have toilets and conductor cabins. Coupe, on the other hand, has cabins with locking doors that contain two sets of bunks. Each has its advantages and disadvantages, but I felt like platz would be an adventure.

When my trainmates and I arrived in Shymkent, we took our bags to the apartments the local volunteers had rented for the visitors to share over the weekend. After dropping the bags, we caught a taxi to Turkestan to meet with the other volunteers on the cultural tour. We wanted to go to Otrar, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, but our cabbie didn’t know how to get there, so we just ended up in Turkestan. Unfortunately, the bus went to Otrar first…so we waited. But we had shashlik so it was OK.

Once the rest of the group caught up with us we toured the mausoleum in Turkestan. It’s supposed to be the holiest Islamic site in the country, and it also has one of the largest domes, I believe. We weren’t allowed to take photos inside, but I tried to get plenty of exterior shots. Some were pretty decent. It was an amazing structure and a great cultural experience. Check out my flickr photostream for the goods.

Before entering, I went to a toilet building that was nearby. Inside I noticed that it was set up for the ritual washing that Muslims are required to do before prayer. I’ve learned how to do the ablutions, and I thought that it would be respectful to do them before entering this holy site. I wasn’t alone in the building, though. You should have seen the looks I got! At first the men were confused, then many of them started asking me questions in English. Later I realized that they must have thought I was Muslim and wanted to know how long I had been studying Islam. I told them since December, which was when I had first been to our local mosque with a co-worker. Technically, I suppose I have been studying the practices of the religion, though I haven’t actually converted. It’s a fascinating religion with myriad tradition and ritual, and the more I learn about it the more I learn about the Kazakh people.

When we returned to Shymkent we all went out for the evening. It was a good time, though there were several fights at the club. Fortunately the fights were all between locals. Usually one of us would grin and say “Texas” after things cleared up. A lot of Kazakhs call Shymkent Texas because they say it’s like the Wild West.

The next day was Nauryz proper. I headed to the hippodrome to watch traditional Kazakh games. It rained, which was kind of a bummer, but it definitely made kokpar more interesting to watch! Kokpar, as I believe I may have mentioned in a previous post, is an equestrian game that might best be described as goat carcass polo. The kokpar, as I understand, is the game ball. The game ball is a goat carcass that has been relieved of its head and hooves. It’s violent, fast-paced and fascinating. The other games were fun to watch as well, but kokpar was something special.

After that, another volunteer and I took the overnight bus to Almaty. Some other volunteers booked seats on a sleeper bus. If I ever do an overnight bus again, I want the sleeper. Sitting in a cramped seat for 12 hours on a hot bus was one of the most miserable experiences of my life. The headrest wasn’t high enough for me to comfortable rest my head, so it was a long, brutal night. Not to mention that Kazakhstan’s roads aren’t always the best. There were times when I was fairly certain we were driving across a bombing range because the potholes were so numerous and deep. Trains are definitely better, even if they’re slower.  The tracks are much less bumpy than the washboards that seem to pass for roads here.

The payoff was that I got an extra day to go visit my PST host family. From the Peace Corps office, I got a minibus to Altyn Orda, one of the transfer points to Shemalgan. It was an adventure. There was a man passed out in the middle of the front seat. I had to push him over to sit down. The driver knew him and tried to get him up and out when his stop came, but the guy was just too far gone. He ended up going all the way to Altyn Orda with us. Toward the end he stopped leaning on the window and started leaning on me. I’m fairly certain everyone in the bus was having a good laugh about that. When we finally arrived and I stood up to get off, I had to do it carefully so the poor guy didn’t fall in the floor!

Then it was off to my first home in Kazakhstan. I’d told my host sister that I was coming to visit, but never gave her a time. I got off at the bazaar and bought some fruit and then took a taxi to the house. The driver took a turn I would have never taken, but it was a turn for the best. We drove right past my host dad! We stopped and he got in and rode back with me. When we got to the house he ran in and yelled to my host mom that Baurzhan was home. She came around the corner with her hands over her mouth and I swear I thought she was going to cry.

My host sister was visiting a friend, and my host brother was working. Although I got to see my sister, my host brother didn’t make it back before I left. I did, however, meet his new wife! She was super nice and absolutely beautiful. Erzat landed quite a catch! We sat around and chatted, ate dinner, showed pictures from Nauryz and just had a good time. Between Shymkent and the host family I was really feeling great about my Kazakh.

In Shymkent, Kazakh is spoken much more than Russian and we Kazakh speakers really got to show our stuff. My host family told me how great I was doing in Kazakh and how I wasn’t struggling for words as much and was much smoother in my speaking. In fact, I hardly spoke any English the whole time I was there.

Then it was back to Almaty for the Volunteer Action Committee and check-in to our hotel for training. The training was good, and it was great to catch up with all my friends from PST. Plus I got the chance to get some of the other 20s a little better. This time we were all a little bit more relaxed and most of us had a party every night. Good times, little sleep.

Now I’m back at site with renewed energy and elevated spirits. I don’t know what the future holds, but I think I can do some good while I’m here. I guess I’ve already been doing some good for seven months, but now maybe I can add some extra value to it.

This weekend I decided it was time to buy a dombura. I’ve been taking lessons for a while, but I haven’t had an instrument to practice with since I moved to my new host family. Hence, it’s difficult to make much progress.

Plus, I’m supposed to be playing at an upcoming concert. I can’t provide any further details right now, but I can say that’s it’s coming up soon and I’ll need to practice a lot between now and the big day so that I don’t make a fool of myself.

So, there are lots of domburas available here in Kazakhstan. The smallest ones available are non-functioning dombura statues that are sold in souvenir shops. There are also numerous souvenir domburas available. The playable souvenirs usually run about 5000 KZT or so. But my instructor told me their quality is pretty lousy. She said I could get one made by a master in Pavlodar for about 9000 KZT, though.

After a lot of thought on the matter, I finally decided to invest in a quality instrument. In converted dollars, the difference between souvenir and quality is not that great, so it wasn’t that difficult a decision.

I started asking my instructor where I could buy a quality dombura in Pavlodar. It took a long time to get an address from her, but I eventually got that and a few phone numbers for the shop.

Once in Pavlodar, I enlisted the help of my friend Jeffrey to help track down the store. None of us had heard of the street the store was on, so I needed help finding it. Between a cool computer program Jeffrey has that shows a map of the city and his excellent Russian skills we were able to locate the shop.

Off we went, looking for 153 Margulana Street. We walked right to it, but there wasn’t any prominent signage that said “domburas here” so it took us a minute to get our bearings.

Once inside we were greeted by the master himself, Baurzhan Kabulbekovich Barlukov. I guess I haven’t completely broken ties with my American cultural perceptions, because I envisioned that this place would be a neat little storefront with several options to choose from. Nope. This was the master’s workshop and he was getting ready to varnish several instruments when Jeffrey and I arrived.

My instructor had told him I was coming, so he was expecting me and I received a warm welcome. He showed us his shop as well as some of the instruments he was building at the time. It was a magical place for me. I was totally on cloud nine. Before I moved to Nashville, I built quite a bit of furniture with my Dad, and we both really enjoyed it. One of his uncles or great uncles owned a saw mill, and my Mom’s Dad was a fairly accomplished woodworker. I guess you could saw woodworking is just in my blood.

It was really interesting to see the different instruments in various stages of completion. He sells three different models: a children’s dombura that is about 5000 KZT, the dombura I purchased at 9000 KZT and the professional model for 30000 KZT. He told us that it takes about four days to finish an instrument.

After learning about his work, he opened a cabinet and pulled out my dombura. Not only does he build them, but he can also play them quite well. Before I bought the dombura Baurzhan Kabulbekovich gave us a quick concert on the instrument I would buy.

It’s really hard to even put into words what an amazing experience this was for me. I got to meet a master dombura maker and tour his shop. I saw his workspace and got to talk to him about his work. He also said I could come back and watch and learn sometime – an offer I definitely plan to take up! I also got a dombura. It will be a great way to share Kazakhstani culture with Americans when I go home. Plus, it was handcrafted by a local artisan. I didn’t buy some cheap, mass produced junk. It’s a master’s work that I own now. It was an incredible cultural experience, and one that I think will buoy me through some of the tough times I may face in the remainder of my time here.

Now that I think about it, chances are that he built that instrument specifically for me. I told my instructor early in the week that I wanted to buy a dombura, and she said she would have to call someone first. I thought she was calling to get the shop’s number from someone, but she may actually have been calling in the order for me!

Some days you just get really lucky. Yesterday was one of those days.

In stark contrast to the melancholy of yesterday, today was a really wonderful day. It continues to be a thing of amazement to me that the most insignificant things can serve as tipping points for both the good and bad here.

This morning I was dragging. Seriously dragging. I stumbled through the front door of the school with five minutes to spare before classes started. Normally not a problem…unless the director of the school has hall duty on the ground floor when one stumbles in late! She didn’t give me a harsh reprimand or anything like that, just a glance at the clock and then a “what gives?” glance back at me. Oops!

I had four straight classes today. Made it through them all. Struggled against my body which kept insisting strongly that I get some more sleep. Had lunch. Burned a few minutes and then had tea with the other English teachers. Sans Saniya today, though, as she was at a tea for a recently deceased relative. That all went well. Then I had to go to a concert.

Normally, there’s nothing in the universe that I despise more than having to go to a concert at the end of a Friday. But this one was fun. At first I thought it was an early celebration of Women’s Day. International Women’s Day. It’s March 8. The United States doesn’t celebrate it. Not sure really what to make of that. It’s interesting, though. At any rate, turns out it was a concert honoring veteran teachers. And by veteran, I think they meant retired teachers. There were two women who attended. I had met and had dinner several times with the relative of one of the women. Small world, right?

After that I came home and relaxed a little bit before Arman told me we were going to the Kindergarten to get Sultan, the host family’s 5-year-old grandson. He somehow didn’t notice me when he first came out to get ready to leave, but when he saw me it appeared to make his day. And THAT was my tipping point for the day. Had a great walk back. We all chatted – to the extent that my vocabulary and comprehension allowed – Arman and I joked a little about a really pretty woman that walked by. That joke carried on later with the host family. Too funny. I won’t bore you with the details, though.

Later on Sultan and I watched a few episodes of MTV’s “Pimp My Ride” with Russian overdubs. You can’t tell me that’s not entertaining!

Of course, being five means that Sultan’s mood can turn on a dime. At the moment he’s screaming bloody murder about something (and has been for a good 10 minutes). Still, I’m having a good day. Mostly because I’m listening to music and that’s covering the screaming to some extent.

I might buy a dombura this weekend. Maybe not. I will definitely buy train tickets for IST and Nauryz in Shymkent. Can’t wait for that. No matter what tomorrow throws at me, I’ll be able to relax with a large number of Americans a few hours later and decompress. All in all, not a bad day.

Plus, I started doing more language study on my own today. Small steps – just a list of all the infinitive forms of the verbs that I’ve written down in my notes. As I learn or recall more I’ll add them to the list. Use the list to study, etc. Next I’ll start a general vocabulary list. Perhaps I may start a grammar notebook, too. Who knows. I feel like I accomplished something, though, and that’s what matters.