. . .and I saw plenty of it on my interminable trip back to the states. I won't go into two much detail (as it's all whining) other than to say that anyone who doesn't hate humanity after the Almaty airport at 1 in the morning is too nice for their own good, the Frankfurt airport is a monument to poor planning, and transcontinental flights incite me toward homicidal rage directed at stupid, irritating American tourists who insist in talking loudly and doing the stretches the cartoon man shows them. Also, what's up with showing 1 1.5 hour movie during a 9 hour flight?
Despite the nightmarish quality of the actual trip itself, my arrival in DC was lovely. Clare is even better than I anticipated, and Marie and Allen outdid themselves providing me with good smelling girly shower things and a fabulous meal. In gratitude, I promptly passed out. Monday I got up far too early for my flight back to TX, which started feeling longer even than the previous flights as the realization kicked in that I was going home for the first time in 2.5 months. Kate and the kids met me at the airport with a banner and flowers (though I ruined the surprise by coming down the wrong escalator) and then we at Mexican. Ummm, enchiladas. One of these days I need to get me a margarita, and then my homecoming will be complete.
So I'm currently squatting in my own apartment with no air conditioning and no internet access, have no shuttle transportation for the near future, seem to have brought back some cholera from Dushanbe, and have spent all my money on Russian to Russian transcription, beer, and Almaty pizza. And still, damn, it's good to be home.
Thanks to all of you for reading this summer, as well as commenting and sending emails. You all helped me maintain as much of my sanity as did survive Central Asia. I won't be posting anymore, as really, you don't want to hear about my regular life. If you do, you'll just have tp pick up the phone. I'm sure I'll be off again soon to somewhere exotic and, uh, fun, and then this page will once again be a forum for all my complaints and rants about the inadequacy of the rest of the world.
Tuesday, August 16, 2005
Saturday, August 13, 2005
A Real City or Something
Despite my obvious fascination with and love for my hotel room, I have managed to see something of Almaty. And apparently I lived in Dushanbe too long, because anything approaching an actual city kind of freaks me out, it seems. We went to lunch yesterday with the ACCELS director here, and though she claimed the sushi was fresh and good, I couldn't get my head around the idea of sushi in Central Asia, and had to let that pass. I went for chicken with no bones instead--baby steps.
Then I actually managed to have some fun. I sat next to a random Tajik woman on the plane here, as she was on her way to try to get an American visa. I called her friend's cell phone, and we went and sat in a mall for a while. Then, instead of paying for a taxi, we let ourselves get picked up by three teenagers claiming to be Kurds. Apparently they were Tajiks, too, but whatever. After almost flying through the windshield about 8 times, we wandered around a park and then went for dinner. I ate a pizza that puts the lesnaia skazka to shame and approached American standards.
This morning I had a meeting, and then tried to be a good tourist. That of course didn't happen. We ended up going back to the mall for a gross lunch, and now I am taking it easy back at the hotel. I'll probably go for some dinner and fit in one more shower before I have to head to the airport at 1 this morning. I'm really dreading this flight, and I find myself filled with rage that no enterprising soul has invented an instant matter transmitter yet. I hate travel, with uncomfortable seats, other people's noises and breathing, sitting in airports, being fed gross food every 2 hours, and all the other things that go with it.
But at least on the other end I have Clare Eva to meet, and some hamburgers and lemonade promised to me courtesy of Marie and Allen. And then I get to go home and start my real life again. Hopefully my cell phone will work once I turn it on again in the states on Sunday afternoon. That's all I've got now, so those of you planning on calling should use that number.
Then I actually managed to have some fun. I sat next to a random Tajik woman on the plane here, as she was on her way to try to get an American visa. I called her friend's cell phone, and we went and sat in a mall for a while. Then, instead of paying for a taxi, we let ourselves get picked up by three teenagers claiming to be Kurds. Apparently they were Tajiks, too, but whatever. After almost flying through the windshield about 8 times, we wandered around a park and then went for dinner. I ate a pizza that puts the lesnaia skazka to shame and approached American standards.
This morning I had a meeting, and then tried to be a good tourist. That of course didn't happen. We ended up going back to the mall for a gross lunch, and now I am taking it easy back at the hotel. I'll probably go for some dinner and fit in one more shower before I have to head to the airport at 1 this morning. I'm really dreading this flight, and I find myself filled with rage that no enterprising soul has invented an instant matter transmitter yet. I hate travel, with uncomfortable seats, other people's noises and breathing, sitting in airports, being fed gross food every 2 hours, and all the other things that go with it.
But at least on the other end I have Clare Eva to meet, and some hamburgers and lemonade promised to me courtesy of Marie and Allen. And then I get to go home and start my real life again. Hopefully my cell phone will work once I turn it on again in the states on Sunday afternoon. That's all I've got now, so those of you planning on calling should use that number.
Friday, August 12, 2005
CNN is the New Corn
As much as I am determined to hate Almaty because I'm tired and cranky, there are some perks. My hotel room is tiny, and I fell off the bed last night trying to crawl on to it on my way back from the bathroom in the dark, forgetting how narrow the bed is--but at least it's long enough for me. You'd think this wouldn't be an issue, as I'm 5 ft. 3 in. tall, but yet I did not fit on my bed in Dushanbe.
The shower approaches the sublime. Now, I still have to hold it in my hand, but the water is hot, not just not cold, which is the closest I've gotten for the most part this summer. There are sliding doors and ledges for toiletries. And the pressure, oh, the water pressure. Beautiful blunted needles of hot water shooting into my scalp. You can't know how good that feels unless you've spent your summer hunched under a tap in a bathtub in Dushanbe. And best of all, the water is actually clean. As in, the texture of my hair is starting to approach, um, hair again, as opposed to steel wool.
That's still not the best part though. Nope, the best part is, in addition to HIT TV and BBC News, my hotel room features CNN. Beautiful, beautiful CNN. Did you know that a bakery in London has perfected a new type of crustless bread? And that oil reached record prices yesterday? The Gaza pullout is getting lots of coverage, as is the UK decision to hold and deport 10 people suspected of being a threat to the country. I could watch this stuff forever, and even waking up to Anderson Cooper was a joy. It's even better than corn.
The shower approaches the sublime. Now, I still have to hold it in my hand, but the water is hot, not just not cold, which is the closest I've gotten for the most part this summer. There are sliding doors and ledges for toiletries. And the pressure, oh, the water pressure. Beautiful blunted needles of hot water shooting into my scalp. You can't know how good that feels unless you've spent your summer hunched under a tap in a bathtub in Dushanbe. And best of all, the water is actually clean. As in, the texture of my hair is starting to approach, um, hair again, as opposed to steel wool.
That's still not the best part though. Nope, the best part is, in addition to HIT TV and BBC News, my hotel room features CNN. Beautiful, beautiful CNN. Did you know that a bakery in London has perfected a new type of crustless bread? And that oil reached record prices yesterday? The Gaza pullout is getting lots of coverage, as is the UK decision to hold and deport 10 people suspected of being a threat to the country. I could watch this stuff forever, and even waking up to Anderson Cooper was a joy. It's even better than corn.
Thursday, August 11, 2005
On Leaving Dushanbe
I'm sitting in the ACCELS office in Almaty as I write this post, having left Tajikistan yesterday morning. It's been raining off and on since I got here, which is quite a change, as I never saw rain in the daylight during the two months I lived in Dushanbe. I'm sure that Almaty is a perfectly adequate city, but right now I'm tired and just want to get on the plane home.
Leaving Dushanbe was somewhat harder than anticipated, given that I've had an extensive list of complaints this summer. Wednesday was my last day, and after yet another failed interview attempt, I spent the day with one of the other Americans, whom I'll miss. I realized that there is actually nothing worth buying in Tajikistan as I searched for gifts for the kids, and I bought myself some Yulduz Usmonova mp3s as well as 3 disks with a total of 375 mp3s of bad pop from the soundtrack to my summer. I had one last afternoon at the opera ( I LOVE the opera, you know), and then it was time to go home for my host family party.
I was kind of dreading this, as one of my host mother's sons had a recent major setback. He and his wife owned two sections of a higher end department type store, which recently burned to the ground in some sort of bazaar mafia related arson. They lost many thousands of dollars worth of merchandise, as well as all the money they paid for the space. There is no insurance in Tajikistan. In addition, the oldest son worked there, so he is now also unemployed. The families have three kids each. They are in a lot of debt, some of it to my host sister's husband. It turns out he's not the nicest of husbands, which adds another layer of ick to the whole situation. I knew this disaster would come up, and I was not looking forward to it--what is the appropriate thing to say when something like this happens?
Before that, though, I had a rather nice Dushanbe moment. I've spent a great deal of this summer avoiding eye contact and trying to be unobtrusive on the street, as well as drowning out comments by wearing my headphones. I had to run down to the main store to meet my transcriber to pay her, so I grabbed my CD player and threw in the Jesus and Mary Chain. And that's when I realized, I needed to be listening to this all summer long. I mean, can you be intimidated by creepy little men when striding along to Head On, one of the greatest rock and roll songs of all time? No, no you can't.
The party started off as hideously as expected, with the couple who lost the store looking exhausted and sad, and everyone talking among themselves in Tajik. But when everyone finally arrived, people seemed somehow able to put aside their own problems and focus on the fact that I was leaving. And despite the fact that I'm some random American chick who dropped into their lives two months ago, they really seemed to care. My host mother gave the first toast, and was crying before she started speaking. Noza was pretty much a tearful wreck all night. I admit, there were some tears from me as well. I like to think I'm all tough and badass, but apparently I'm just a sap. Or I'm getting soft in my old age.
So, for all the many hideous inconveniences and unpleasant aspects of living in Dushanbe, I guess I had a good summer. I met some people I'll miss, many I won't, and some I'm not sure about yet. Maybe I'll even find that I've learned something valuable about myself or my place in the world, though I'm afraid I might just have learned that I like drinking beer in the afternoon.
Leaving Dushanbe was somewhat harder than anticipated, given that I've had an extensive list of complaints this summer. Wednesday was my last day, and after yet another failed interview attempt, I spent the day with one of the other Americans, whom I'll miss. I realized that there is actually nothing worth buying in Tajikistan as I searched for gifts for the kids, and I bought myself some Yulduz Usmonova mp3s as well as 3 disks with a total of 375 mp3s of bad pop from the soundtrack to my summer. I had one last afternoon at the opera ( I LOVE the opera, you know), and then it was time to go home for my host family party.
I was kind of dreading this, as one of my host mother's sons had a recent major setback. He and his wife owned two sections of a higher end department type store, which recently burned to the ground in some sort of bazaar mafia related arson. They lost many thousands of dollars worth of merchandise, as well as all the money they paid for the space. There is no insurance in Tajikistan. In addition, the oldest son worked there, so he is now also unemployed. The families have three kids each. They are in a lot of debt, some of it to my host sister's husband. It turns out he's not the nicest of husbands, which adds another layer of ick to the whole situation. I knew this disaster would come up, and I was not looking forward to it--what is the appropriate thing to say when something like this happens?
Before that, though, I had a rather nice Dushanbe moment. I've spent a great deal of this summer avoiding eye contact and trying to be unobtrusive on the street, as well as drowning out comments by wearing my headphones. I had to run down to the main store to meet my transcriber to pay her, so I grabbed my CD player and threw in the Jesus and Mary Chain. And that's when I realized, I needed to be listening to this all summer long. I mean, can you be intimidated by creepy little men when striding along to Head On, one of the greatest rock and roll songs of all time? No, no you can't.
The party started off as hideously as expected, with the couple who lost the store looking exhausted and sad, and everyone talking among themselves in Tajik. But when everyone finally arrived, people seemed somehow able to put aside their own problems and focus on the fact that I was leaving. And despite the fact that I'm some random American chick who dropped into their lives two months ago, they really seemed to care. My host mother gave the first toast, and was crying before she started speaking. Noza was pretty much a tearful wreck all night. I admit, there were some tears from me as well. I like to think I'm all tough and badass, but apparently I'm just a sap. Or I'm getting soft in my old age.
So, for all the many hideous inconveniences and unpleasant aspects of living in Dushanbe, I guess I had a good summer. I met some people I'll miss, many I won't, and some I'm not sure about yet. Maybe I'll even find that I've learned something valuable about myself or my place in the world, though I'm afraid I might just have learned that I like drinking beer in the afternoon.
Sunday, August 07, 2005
Doing Dushanbe, Rock Star Style
It may seem to many of you that my life in Dushanbe is rather tame, perhaps even boring. In comparison to most places in the world, you would be correct. But the thing is, I'm in Tajikistan, and here, I'm a rock star.
I've had a waitress at the cafe outside the Opera-Ballet wave me over to my party as she recognizes me at my arrival. I've closed down the Avesto cafe and helped drink them out of bottled beer. I've horrified groups of decent Tajik men by loudly singing bad 80s rock in a restaurant in the middle of the afternoon. Once or twice, I've even stayed out until midnight.
So you see, I own this place. Now please let me go home.
I've had a waitress at the cafe outside the Opera-Ballet wave me over to my party as she recognizes me at my arrival. I've closed down the Avesto cafe and helped drink them out of bottled beer. I've horrified groups of decent Tajik men by loudly singing bad 80s rock in a restaurant in the middle of the afternoon. Once or twice, I've even stayed out until midnight.
So you see, I own this place. Now please let me go home.
Saturday, August 06, 2005
Getting Change in Dushanbe
As you may know, the currency in Tajikistan is the somoni. There are about three somoni to the dollar, and each somoni is broken down into 100 dirams. There are mostly just 20 and 50 diram notes in circulation, and only rarely does one see a 10 or 5 diram coin or note.
Despite this, prices come in all sorts of denominations for which it is impossible to provide correct change, such as 30 diram marshrutka rides. Most of the time, you just don't get the little bit of change, and sometimes you get to underpay a little bit.
But my favorite way of handling the change issue is the way stores will just give you something random along with whatever you're trying to buy. Often it's a piece of nasty wanna be Starburst candy. Today, when buying water, I was given a strawberry tea bag. But the best change I've gotten to date was in a pharmacy the other day. I was trying to buy some ibuprofen, and when the woman working there couldn't give me the correct change, she ripped off a strip of pills from somwhere else, handed it to me, and told me it was for a headache. Yes, this country gives drugs instead of change.
In other news, not much is going on. My classes are finally over, and I managed to learn incredibly little in the course of two months. I'm now running around like a crazy woman trying to do more interviews--working here involves lots of phone calls, meetings at the last minute, and canceled meetings, not to mention being lost a fair bit of the time. I kind of can't believe that I leave in less than a week.
Despite this, prices come in all sorts of denominations for which it is impossible to provide correct change, such as 30 diram marshrutka rides. Most of the time, you just don't get the little bit of change, and sometimes you get to underpay a little bit.
But my favorite way of handling the change issue is the way stores will just give you something random along with whatever you're trying to buy. Often it's a piece of nasty wanna be Starburst candy. Today, when buying water, I was given a strawberry tea bag. But the best change I've gotten to date was in a pharmacy the other day. I was trying to buy some ibuprofen, and when the woman working there couldn't give me the correct change, she ripped off a strip of pills from somwhere else, handed it to me, and told me it was for a headache. Yes, this country gives drugs instead of change.
In other news, not much is going on. My classes are finally over, and I managed to learn incredibly little in the course of two months. I'm now running around like a crazy woman trying to do more interviews--working here involves lots of phone calls, meetings at the last minute, and canceled meetings, not to mention being lost a fair bit of the time. I kind of can't believe that I leave in less than a week.
Wednesday, August 03, 2005
Rummy and the Ice Palace
So last week, Donald Rumsfeld paid a visit to Tajikistan. I was sitting in the garden cafe of the Avesto Hotel, my favorite place for afternoon beer and juice drinking in Dushanbe, when I saw a police-escorted cavalcade pull in to the front of the hotel. It wasn't the president's cars, for which roads are cleared on a regular basis, and seemed to be attended by lots of press vans. So the other American with whom I was sitting and I decided it must be Rummy, and that we should go meet him. We quickly set off across the lawn and made it all the way to the front of the building. Then my fear of men in suits in formerly Soviet countries reasserted itself, and I scampered quickly off across the lawn.
Then, there was a rumor floating around (courtesy of some French soldiers, I believe), that Rumsfeld had parachuted into the eastern, very mountainous part of the country. Folks, there is only one possible explanation for this bizarre behavior, especially with the subsequent news that Uzbekistan is kicking the US out of its base there. There is a secret Ice Palace in Tajikistan, and it is from here that all offensives in the region are coordinated. Perhaps it is still under construction, but it must exist.
It is now my greatest ambition in life to find the Ice Palace. I will reign there as the Ice Princess (or Snow Fairy, I haven't decided yet) and coordinate the annual Ice Ball, the major yearly diplomatic event. I will always have ice for my juice, and when Rummy parachutes in for visits I can greet him with icy cold beer.
Then, there was a rumor floating around (courtesy of some French soldiers, I believe), that Rumsfeld had parachuted into the eastern, very mountainous part of the country. Folks, there is only one possible explanation for this bizarre behavior, especially with the subsequent news that Uzbekistan is kicking the US out of its base there. There is a secret Ice Palace in Tajikistan, and it is from here that all offensives in the region are coordinated. Perhaps it is still under construction, but it must exist.
It is now my greatest ambition in life to find the Ice Palace. I will reign there as the Ice Princess (or Snow Fairy, I haven't decided yet) and coordinate the annual Ice Ball, the major yearly diplomatic event. I will always have ice for my juice, and when Rummy parachutes in for visits I can greet him with icy cold beer.
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