Death is Apparently Not an Option

I have a cold. I HATE colds. I mean I really, really, really HATE them. And I've had a lot of the non-fatal illnesses that one person can contract; colds may be my least favorite. At least while in the middle of them.

I was supposed to have a friend come over on Wednesday to fix my exploded lights, but I was too infectious, plus I'm really disgusting when I sick and sit around in pajamas and don't shower and swig out of cartons and so on and it really doesn't need to be witnessed. Then he went back to the hut on a mountain that he lives in so I asked another friend, who is spending the weekend in an abandoned mineshaft or something and is supposed to call me when he gets back.

If the above paragraph makes no sense, welcome to my world.

So I went out shopping with a friend yesterday, thinking I was on the upswing, and we got lost and wandered around, and then I felt just terrible ,and then my cold moved from my face and the back of my throat into my chest as well, and know it's just sitting there like a big, painful, ugly squatter. Also, I really want to eat an enormous juicy steak, or perhaps a delicious hamburger like they only make in the US and not here. In the absence of the likelihood of either of those materializing in my increasingly water bottle and juice carton strewn apartment, I have ventured out in search of whatever meds I can find at the pharmacy around the corner and hopefully some ramen. It's the closest thing to soup I can think of that I might actually find in my bodega (yesterday I had grand plans of going to the market for some mutton and veggies and making a nice hearty and seasonally appropriate stew. HAH!) and it's hot watery goodness is sounding pretty awesome right now.

Hopefully it turns out to be some MAGIC ramen, because I have some pretty big plans for this week. That's right, after last Friday's visit to both the State Statistics Committee and the National Library in one day, I am upping the excitement ante even more this week. Tuesday I'm supposed to learn how to make lagman, which is one of only like two national dishes I actually like. There's this guy named Bakyt who is apparently the Lagman King, makes his own noodles and everything, and I know nothing about him except that my friend A knows him and I am supposed to present myself at his house at 5 on Tuesday at which point I will in turn learn the secrets of a good lagman. Then on Wednesday, I'm taking the marshrutka to Panfilov, an outlying region of this province with a village with a Family Medical Center to talk with the director there.

Yes, it's a glamorous life (don't forget the 8 AM Kyrgyz lessons! Plus, the 2008 Demographic Yearbook of the Kyrgyz Republic, which I found myself reading in bed yesterday morning at 5 AM, now comes standard in Kyrgyz AND Russian, making it totally confusing to read but at least theoretically a great learning tool). I'd tell you more, but I don't want anyone to do anything crazy out of jealousy, plus I need to go find some magic ramen.