Happy Holidays!

Here it is!! The long-awaited, much-anticipated (and overly-hyphenated?) recap of "Katie Joins the Peace Corps and Moves to Kazakhstan - 2010"!! This post promises to be terribly exciting and awe-inspiring, etc. So, from I'll take it from the top...

Back in January 2010 (good lord, almost an entire year ago!) I was nominated to become a Peace Corps Volunteer in the Community Development program in Europe starting in June. This nomination came 4 months after completing the PC application, and 2 months after a phone interview with my recruiter at the Chicago Regional Office. I spent the next 3 months in and out of the doctor's office in good ol' St. Paul completing the obnoxiously detailed medical paperwork. In March I had my wisdom teeth pulled especially for PC, as it's a requirement for service. Once all my paperwork was submitted and I was deemed "Medically and Legally Cleared for Service" the waiting game began.

I waited through midterms, an uneventful Spring Break, finals and commencement without hearing anything from PC. I called my recruiter to ask when I would learn if I would get an invitation to serve or not, but she was generally unhelpful and told me to sit tight. So I sat tight through May and June with no word, and began to get rather nervous about the whole affair. I never figured I was a shoe in, but I didn't really believe that my application would be rejected. So I sat at home in West Bend, WI being slightly panicked and mostly bored, half-heartedly looking for jobs and internships, but hoping the PC would pull through.

July came around quietly, still no news from Peace Corps. My family got ready for a Family Reunion/Graduation Bonanza on behalf of 3 recent grads, my younger sister got ready for her first semester at college, and I got ready to expand my job search. Finally, mid-July I got a call from Peace Corps. A placement officer called to say that I had been slotted to leave in September for Eastern Europe as a Youth Development Volunteer, but that the same program in Central Asia had opened up. He told me if I was flexible (a magic word in PC), they could move my departure date up and I would leave a month earlier, in August. I confirmed that I was indeed the most flexible person he was likely to ever meet, and 5 days later I got my invitation to serve in the mail. It was a wonderful large blue binder full of exciting brochures including a description of my job as a "Youth Development Facilitator." The next day I emailed the Placement Office in DC to accept the invitation and arrange a flight to DC for staging on Aug 17.

To make a tale of medium length much shorter, I spent the next month feverishly packing and unpacking and repacking and re-repacking, made a road trip to TN to visit one of my favorite ladies, and made a final trip to the Twin Cities to see my old stomping grounds one last time and bid farewell to my friends. On August 17th at an absurdly early hour I arrived at Mitchell Int'l Airport in Milwaukee to start the next two years of my life.

August: The Kaz-22 group of PCVs arrived in Almaty, Kazakhstan at midnight on August 20. The first few days were spent getting over jet lag and attending an endless number of talks about PC policy and expectations similar terribly engaging topics. Next thing I knew I was moving in with my first host family, a widow and her 2 daughter and grandson who were wonderful to me, and terrible concerned about my meatless diet. I spent my Pre-Service Training in a "town" of 40,000 people just outside of Almaty. August was a time of serious adjustment, confusion about the lack of street lights, overwhelming expectations by our school's administration, etc.

September: By this time we were well on our way to figuring out life as Peace Corps Trainees, and all the awkwardness that comes from being in country, but not yet being a Volunteer. September 1st was the first day of school and the National Day of Learning. It was our first chance to see the students we would be working with, and a first glimpse of the pomp and circumstance ubiquitous in Kazakhstan. Mornings were consumed with Russian language class, and afternoons with mildly helpful technical trainings. As only the second group of Youth Development volunteers to ever grace the steppes of Kazakhstan, it was becoming clear that despite their best intentions PC just really wasn't sure what to do with us. Regardless, I bonded with my fellow Trainees at a number of nameless cafes (affectionately dubbed "Blue Tarp" and "White Curtains") and with my host family. I helped my younger host sister with her English, taught my host mom how to make chocolate chip pancakes, and ate some face meat.


The first day of school at School No. 8 in Talgar, Kazakhstan. People take the first day of school here very seriously. All the parents attend and the kids wear matching outfits.


See!! Matching outfits! And sashes! And hair bows!


The ringing of the first bell of the new school year. I'm telling you, they love pomp and circumstance!

October: This month was filled with Kazakh holidays, hints of life after Pre-Service Training, and a field trip to the city of Taldykorgan. PC was wise enough to figure out that about half-way through the 11 weeks of Pre-Service Training trainees become restless and generally unpleasant with the static state of their PC lives. So we were all shipped off to different cities across the country for a few days to stay with current volunteers, visit their places of work, and see exactly what it is that PCVs do everyday. The end of the month culminated in Site Placement Announcements (the moment we'd all been waiting for, in which we finally found out where we would be working for the next 2 years) and Counterpart Conference (in which we met the host country nationals we would be working with). On the 30th my training group put together a much-doubted, but greatly successful Halloween Carnival at our school. It was attending by about 100 students and 6 teachers, included a DJ, games, dancing, and a haunted house so terrifying it had to be closed early.


Part of my training village group at Medeo, an outdoor skating rink that will host the 2011 Asian Winter Games.


My counterpart Nastya and I successfully complete Counterpart Conference! People here love getting certificates and such, so PC gives them out at every possible occasion. On the left is John the PC Country Director, and on the right is Paul the Training Manager.


Excited students at the Halloween Carnival.


Aimira (on of my favorite students!) and I.


Anya (our technical trainer) and Zhenya (our language trainer) as a fortune teller and a robot. Nice job on the costumes, ladies!

November: Last month was a bit of a whirlwind. The last week of Pre-service Training we spent preparing our students for a presentation to PC to demonstrate what they learned during the clubs that we led. We took an oral language proficiency test to see where our language level was at (PC likes trainees to be able intermediate low at the end of training, and advanced low at the end of 2 years of service), and packed up our things. On November 6th we were sworn in as Peace Corps Volunteers by the US Ambassador to Kazakhstan, and right after the ceremony were whisked off to the train station to leave for our permanent sites. After a 15 hour train ride, I arrived in Shymkent, my new home. I found a wonderful host family, and spent the month settling in at my organization MISK (the Youth Information Service of Kazakhstan).


Sarah, Collin, and I. We spent four years studying at Macalester together, and somehow we all ended up in PC together in Kazakhstan. Small world. Seriously.


The Talgar Youth Development Trainees have just become VOLUNTEERS! Great succes


The Kaz-22s at the train station in Almaty, en route to Shymkent and the South Kazakhstan Province. Yes, we do have a lot of luggage. Quite a lot of luggage.


The gang at MISK! These ladies are generally very excited, though a little disorganized. My first day at the office they made me a welcome sign, which is generally adorable.


The Alley of Fallen Heroes in Shymkent, my new hometown. Along the sides of the walkway the names of all those from South Kazakhstan Province killed in WWII.

December: At least point I'm still very much settling in. There are a lot of kinks to work out with my organization and coworkers, who are not quite sure what to do with me. They are exciting to have a volunteer, and have been waiting for one for 7 years, but aren't quite sure what they want me to do. I work every day 10am-6pm and try to be as helpful as possible. I organize files and documents, make electronic copies of things, and help with MISK's School for Young Entrepreneurs. This project runs on a grant from the US Embassy, and is poorly managed and generally disorganized. So that's why I'm here, to help this NGO more efficient and more sustainable. It's been a challenge thus far, and it's become clear that to get anything done here you have to start very small. Rome wasn't built in a day, and an NGO can't be completely transformed in that time either. I spend a lot of my time negotiating, suggesting different work methods, explaining the importance of things that seem obvious to an American (e.g. Why it's a good idea to be on time to your meeting with the mayor of the third largest city in Kazakhstan. Why it makes sense to keep all of our org's press contacts in one file, rather than spread around the office. Why it's a bad idea to spend our entire operating budget for the year on one event.). It's been incredibly challenging, and a bit intimidating. I'm trying to start small so that next year I can start implementing real projects, get our volunteer club off the ground and doing real events, and gain some autonomy in my work.


My director Lena dressed as Spongebob to promote International Volunteer Day on December 1. We walked around town handing out brochures about our organization and talking to people about the importance of volunteerism.


Kids at an orphanage take in our holiday puppet show.


The kids and our volunteers gather around the New Year's tree (here the put trees up for New Years, not for Christmas) and sing traditional Russian carols.


The gift I've prepared for the White Elephant gift exchange with my sitemates. I've made cuter gifts in my life, but they'll do.


Overall, it's been a crazy year. I graduated college, moved across the world, had my passport stolen, and baked an apple pie for Thanksgiving. It's already Christmas Eve here, though it certainly doesn't feel like it. No one knows it's Christmas in Kazakhstan, with a population largely composed of Muslims and closely followed by people of the Eastern Orthodox faith who don't celebrate Christmas until January 7th. It's a little strange to be celebrating without snow and only a small celebration with the other Volunteers in the province. You can bet we'll be baking cookies and singing carols, though. Doing the best we can with limited resources, in true Peace Corps fashion.

Happy holidays, dear reader, and may you find the next few days filled with joy and lots of baked goods!



The rather sad Christmas tree outside my office.

Visa Success!

A brief update:

After 8 trips to the police station in the last two weeks, and more than few attempts by the police to make me pay for a visa that by law should be free to Peace Corps Volunteers, I finally got a visa!!! The migration police agreed to put a one month visa in my personal passport (the passport that was stolen was my Peace Corps Passport, so I still have a personal passport, but it has no proof that I entered the country legally)!!!! It's a short-term visa, but at least I can breathe freely for a month while Peace Corps gets me a new work passport.

It Was a Dark and Story Night, or Why It's A Bad Idea to Lose Your Passport

This is a tale of woe that I've finally decided to type up and share with my faithful blog followers. It's a bit insane and a lot of tragedy. Please note that such incidents happen in EVERY country in the world. There are pickpocketers everywhere, some countries just deal with the after-effects of pickpocketing better than others.


In other news, I've had a crazy couple of weeks. I was pickpocketed. Pickpocketed. As in, some jerk stole my wallet that contained: my passport, 2 US Bank cards, my Kazakhstani Bank card, my US driver's license, and 36,000 kazakhstani tenge (about $240 that I had just taken out to pay my host family for December rent). The event itself was nothing serious. I didn't even notice it had happened until a few hours later. But the task of trying to file an incident report with the local police was awful. I'll give you a play-by-play. It's a long story, but stay with me to the end. It'll be worth it.

Dec. 3, 2010

4:30 Leave my work office to go to the library in the city center to conduct an English club. I buy a magazine on the way, put my bills back in my wallet and put change in my pocket for the bus ride. I put by wallet back in my purse and cross the street to the bus stop. I'm not sure how to get to the library, so I ask a bus driver if he goes where I need to go. As I'm talking to him, a man on my right jostles me repeatedly. I think nothing of it. I'm in a hurry, I figure he's just trying to get on the bus. This bus is going where I need to go, so I get on a different bus.

4:45-5:15 I endure the world's longest bus ride to the library. I pay the bus driver with change from my pocket and sit down. The route is more roundabout than I had thought was humanly possible. We go to the outskirts of the city before coming back to the center. English Club was supposed to start at 5:00. I'm quite late.

5:15-5:25 I get off the bus in the city center and walk ten minutes to the library. For some strange reason all of the club participants are still there, patiently waiting for me.

5:25-6:25 I conduct a thrilling English club. Okay, not really thrilling. I don't really like leading English Club, but you gotta fake it til you make it, right?

6:25 Club ends and I gather my things to leave. I realize that my wallet is not in my purse, and I panic. We search the classroom, but my wallet isn't anywhere. I call the Peace Corps Safety and Security Coordinator. She asks me for some details, makes sure I'm not panicking too much, tells me to call home to cancel my American cards, and tells me she'll call my counterpart (the co-worker that's my host country partner) and tell her what happened.

6:30 I call my poor mother stateside where it is 6:30 AM. I have her cancel my credit cards and insist that it's no big deal and I'll get everything sorted out.

6:40 My counterpart Nastya calls me. She's coming to pick me up and take me to the police station. As per Peace Corps protocol I need to file an incident report describing the theft, and get a "receipt" that serves as a temporary ID. It will explain why I don't have a passport or visa.

6:45-7:15 Nastya and I arrive at the police station in the city center. We spend a considerable amount of time explaining in length what happened to the guard at the door. He can't let us in the building until he's signed us into his little book. But he can't sign anyone in that doesn't have a passport. Conundrum. We beg and plead and retell my story, and the guard tells us that because the theft likely occurred at the bus stop (where I was jostled) we have to go to a different police station. The bus stop is in a different precinct of the city, outside the jurisdiction of the central police station.

7:15-7:25 Nastya and I grab a cab, and high-tail it across town to the precinct containing the aforementioned bus stop.

7:25-8:25 We go through the same routine with the guard at this station as we did with the guard at the last station. We explain why we're there, what paperwork we need to do, etc. Everyone is very interested in the American that had her passport stolen, but no one seems quite sure how they can help us. We get shuffled between offices and end up in a department supervisor's office. He can't help us because it's "very late", so he shuffles us down the hall to a different office.

Nastya and I sit at one end of the office with an officer that seems like he might actually help us. In the corner there are two local men being interrogated by an officer. My counterpart and I pretend like nothing's amiss, and tell my story to the officer helping us. He writes down my address, phone number, etc.etc. in his book, and then says that he can't help us. Because we don't know where the theft occurred, the only thing we know for sure is that I noticed my wallet was gone at the library in the center of town. And that's - you guessed it! - in a different precinct. We have to go back to the station we had been at earlier.

8:25-8:45 More than a little frustrated, Nastya and I catch a bus back to the city center, to the police station we'd already been at, to try to fill out an incident report.

8:45-9:45 More than an hour has passed since our last visit, so of course the guard shift has also changed. There's a new guard at the door that we need to explain our story to, and we once again have to explain over and over again why I don't have a passport number for him to write in his book. We finally convince him to let us in and he directs us to room 308, where someone will help us. If there's no one there, we should try room 312, and if there's no one there we should try 413.... Yeah.

We search the halls for someone who will allow us to file an incident report, with no luck. Lights are on in most offices, but the doors are locked. We stand knocking at one door for 5 minutes before someone finally opens. We have found a captain of the department that deals with theft and robbery. We explain our story to him, he's terrible amused by the fact that I'm American, tells me he loves me in English, asks me if I have a husband, and then refuses to fill out an incident report for us. He'd like to help, he wishes he could, it's just that all reports need to get stamped with a department seal. Unfortunately there's only one seal, which is in his supervisor's office, and because it's 9:30 his supervisor has already gone home. He tells us that if we come back in the morning at 9, he can get us our paperwork in 15 minutes, no problem.

Slightly defeated, Nastya and I head home and agree to meet at the station the next morning at 9:15.

Dec. 4, 2010
9:15 I wait in the snow for my less-than-prompt counterpart and the director of my organization. My director Lena interned at this police station last year, so she's hoping some of her connections will help us out.

9:30-10:15 Nastya, Lena and I explain our story to the guard at the door and ask to see the captain we spoke with the night before. The guard tells us that there is a "very important" meeting being held, so we'll have to wait 30 minutes. Half an hour turns into 45 minutes, and it's clear there's no meeting happening. Officers have been filing in and out of the building all morning. Lena goes back to the guard and demands that we be helped. The guard relents and lets us in.

10:15-11:00 We find the captain in his office, and ask him to fill out the incident report. He tells us that he was mistaken the night before and can't actually fill out a report for us. I'm not a Kazakhstani citizen, therefore I have to do everything through the Migration Office. We argue for awhile and insist that I get a report taken care of at this station. I call the Peace Corps Safety and Security Coordinator, she yells at him for awhile and insists that he help us. Captain Unhelpful relents and takes us to his supervisor to have us talk to him.

11:00-11:45 Nastya, Lena and I start to explain my story to the supervisor, but before we get very far he stops us. He wants to know who I am, how old I am, and what exactly I'm doing in Kazakhstan. He's never heard of the Peace Corps, has no idea what a volunteer is. Lena patiently explains to him over and over again that I am a volunteer that works with her organization to do organizational development. But the supervisor is still stuck on the fact that I don't get a salary. He uses words like "psychology", "brain wash", and "magic" and seems to think there's something very unsavory about volunteerism.

Regardless of what he thinks of my financial situation, he'd like to fill out a report for me. But he can't. It's the week of the OSCE Summit in Astana (Kazakhstan holds the 2010 Chairmanship for the OSCE, and the summit was held in the capital), so the entire world is watching Kazakhstan. He explains that if he fills out a report, it could get in the news and everyone will hear about the American that had her passport stolen in Kazakhstan and the country will look bad. He'd love to help, really, he just can't.

I call up the Peace Corps Safety and Security Coordinator again to have her talk some sense into the man, but he refuses to take the phone. We argue for a few minutes, and he gives in. But he won't be writing the report. Our friend Captain Unhelpful will do it instead.

11:45-12:45 The next hour is spent in the Captain's office writing out a theft incident report. As luck would have it, there is no official report form. Instead, I was handed a 2 blank sheets of printer paper and instructed how to write the official heading at the top ("To the chief of police of the city of Shymkent from American citizen Katherine Whitmore residing on Valixanova Street, Building 225B, Apt. 36...."). On the first sheet I write an "announcement" that is a brief paragraph explaining that a theft occurred. The second sheet is for the "explanation of the announcement" in which I go into further detail about what occurred. The police won't provide a translator, so I have to do these reports in Russian.

Lena, Nastya and Captain Unhelpful crowd arround instructing me how to write my story in a grammatically correct fashion. They argue about grammar, the Captain tells me he loves me and asks why I don't have a husband, etc.

Finally I finish the two reports and we get them stamped by the supervisor. Before they're filed away forever, I ask for a xerox copy of them to send to Peace Corps. The Captain informs us that there is not a single photocopier in the entire 6 story central police station in the third largest city in Kazakhstan, so I take the reports across the street to a store to get them photocopied.

We ask about the "receipt" that will explain why I don't have a passport or visa, and he says they need 24 hours to get it processed. Come back tomorrow.

My coworkers and I leave the station, and head back to our office. I call the Peace Corps and the Safety and Security Coordinator (SSC) is outraged at my treatment. She keeps talking about what an "injustice" my treatment has been, and she says she's going to talk to the chief of police about it and get back to me.

6:00 At the end of the day my director and I are leaving the office when the Peace Corps SSC calls. She has just talked with the chief and he also thinks my case was mistreated. If my director and I go to the police station now, he will get us the forms we need. It should take just a few minutes.

6:30 My director and I arrive at the police station and there is an officer waiting at the door to escort us up to the chiefs office. The Chief is very nice, and at least seems to be genuinely helpful. He issues me an official apology on behalf of the city of Shymkent for my treatment and vows that they will find the man that stole my wallet.

I am many things, but naive is not often one of them. At no point did I think my wallet would be found. People don't steal American passports and just give them back.

He asks what the man that jostled me at the bus stop looks like and I explain that it all happened so quickly and seemed so inconsequential that I couldn't say for sure. He was 45-50, my height, skinny, had a black leather coat and a black hat on, and was vaguely asian. Maybe Kazakh or Uzbek, I couldn't be sure. I figured it was the end of that conversation, and we moved on to talk about the paperwork I needed.

6:45-7:15 The chief presents me with the receipt I need to serve as my temporary ID. My director looks it over and notices grammatical errors, so we head up to the room where they type these sorts of things and fix the grammar. Everything has to printed in both Kazakh and Russian, and then get the official seal and signature of the chief, so it takes awhile. But finally I have the a temporary ID.

7:15-7:45 We thank the chief for his help, and try to leave, but he insists that I help them find the man that took my wallet. I am escorted to a room with a computer that has a program containing the picture of every person arrested in Shymkent ever (or at least since this program was installed). They narrow the search to "age 45-50", "asian nationality", "male" and "theft" and pull up pictures of everyone matching this description arrested in the last year for theft. There are 568 pictures. As the chief, a dozen officers, Captain Helpful, our friend the supervisor, and my director cluster around me, I'm instructed to look through the pictures and point to the man that stole my wallet.

I explain that it all happened so quickly that I didn't get a good look at him, I don't remeber very well, it seemed unimportant at the time, etc., but the chief insists that his picture is probably here.

All I can think about is Kazakhstan's less-than-acceptable human rights record. All I can think is that if I pause too long at any one picture, that man will be in a secret prison tomorrow. I don't need anyone to disappear on my account.

I page through the pictures and apologize again and explain that I can't really remember what he looks like well enough.

7:45-8:45 No matter!! If they don't already have the picture of the pickpocketer, I'll reconstruct it! They start up a different program that allows you to reconstruct appearances one facial feature at a time. This stuff is straight out of CSI. We start with head size, and page through 12 pages of different heads to choose from. Then we move on to eyebrows, lips, eyes, noses, chins, hair, face shapes, everything.

Again, all I can think is that if this picture ends up looking like any real person, they'll be dead. Or at least in jail for eternity.

I construct a face that looks like a strange mix of Cameron from "Ferris Bueller's Day Off" and a Kazakh, and call it good enough. They print 45 copies that will be sent out in the morning with the day shift officers who will be instructed to keep their eyes out for this face around the bus stop I had been at.

8:45-9:00 After finishing with the computer programs, I'm taken back to the supervisor's office (who previously wouldn't help us because he didn't want to look bad). The chief stops in to invite my director and I to dinner at his house, and to insist that this supervisor drive us home and take us out to dinner on the way. We politely decline, but are generally ignored. We thank the chief and he goes home for the day.

My director hints not too politely that it's late and we should be getting home. The supervisor agrees, but needs my help first. He pulls out a 400 page manual to his new fancy hunting watch. The manual is entirely in English and he needs me to translate it. Unfortunately he doesn't have his watch with him, it's at home. So he needs me to go to his house to help him work his watch. My director and I somehow talk our way out of a visit. But he makes us promise to come back next week.

9:00-9:45 He gives us a ride home in his 1980 soviet Lada car that he personally spray-painted in camouflague. He drops my director at a club where she's meeting her friends, and then I spend the next 15 minutes insisting that I can't go out to dinner with him, and that he needs to take me home. He tells me he just wants to "hang out", he has a "very clean heart", and "just wants to be friends". A 15 minute drive home turns into 45 minutes as he weaves through the city asking me what my favorite kind of flower is, what kinds of presents I like, where and when we will go out to dinner. He wants to stop and get beer so we can "hang out" and I can tell him about life in America. I finally tell him I have to be taken home right now, or else I'll catch a taxi instead, and he relents. He makes me take his phone number, and makes me promise to call him. If I don't he'll get my number from one of the dozens of forms floating around the police station that have all my personal information on them. Finally I got home, talked him out of walking me to the door, and insisted that we're good friends and will hang out some time.



Insane, right? I mean, who does this happen to? What did I do to deserve this constant battle with bureaucracy.


Update: My friend the "clean-hearted" police supervisor texted me last week to ask how I'm doing. Needless to say, I didn't respond.

The Moment You've All Been Waiting For!

You've stuck with me a long time, dear reader. Through times of plentiful updates and dry spells, etc. Because you've been so patient and wonderful, I feel like you really deserve this. Ready? Are you sure?

Alright, here they are!! The first pictures I've been able to post since I got to Kazakhstan. For some unknown and possibly magical reason blogspot is not blocked today, so I can finally post directly to my blog, rather than posting through emails. [Before I continue I'd like to give a brief shout out to the Kazakh gods that unblocked this website...]

Here goes:



These are some adorable small children on the first day of school on September 1. All the girls wear ridiculously large white hair bows, and the boys wear sashes. It's absurdly cute.



This is my counterpart Nastya and I at the end of Counterpart Conference. Yes she does have an asymmetrical haircut. Apparently it's highly fashionable.



This is me with my host family on my last night in my training village. Left to right: Aunt whose name I can't remember, Me (in a scarf my host mom gave me as a going away gift), Karlaghash (my host mom), Dianna (my host sister). Camilla (host cousin) is in the white, and Amir (host baby) is in the front. They were wonderful people, and I'm already planning on going back to visit them.



This is my language group from Pre-Service Training at Swearing In. From left to right: Caitlin, Robin, Me, Zhenya (our language instructor), Jordan, Michelle.



This is me and the office gang on my first day of work at MISK. It was not nearly as exciting as it looked, but they made me a cute welcome sign and wrote a poem for me.

More to come in the future. I have holiday photos to upload and such.

Old News

In my meanderings around the interwebz I came across local news coverage of our swearing in ceremony when we became official Peace Corps Volunteers on November 6. The report is in Kazakh, which I unfortunately don't speak, but it's sort of amusing to watch. I have no idea what's being said, but my friend Cynthia is shown playing the dombra (the national instrument of K-stan) and I make a brief appearance with my training group singing a Russian pop song (I'm in the back on the left in black and not terribly visible). Enjoy!

Kaz-22 Swearing In Ceremony in Technicolor!!

Newness

Good lord it's been a long time since I've updated this thing. Many excited things have happened since my last post, so get ready for an exciting read.

I moved!! Which means new city, new family, new job, new group of volunteers. Lots of crazy newness. I arrived in Shymkent about 3 weeks ago, and started work at MISK (the Youth Information Center of Kazakhstan) right away. MISK is a large NGO in Kazakhstan with branches in most of the major cities, including Shymkent. Our branch is 8 years old and currently has 3 staff members: Lena (the Director), Angela (the Accountant), and Nastya (short for Anastassiya). Nastya is the head of the "PR Department" and is my counterpart. She was selected by the organization to work with Peace Corps and be my partner.

The Youth Information Center of Kazakhstan. You're probably thinking "That sounds very broad and general," that's because it is. Our mission statement is essentially to "disseminate information to youth" which is no more clear. Right now they have projects all over the place; a business school for young entrepreneurs, a clothing drive for a local orphanage, brochures and pamphlets, etc. Based on my first few weeks at work, it looks like they try so hard to work on as many projects as possible, that they never really finish any one project satisfactorily. So I think it will make the most sense for me to do organizational development and run trainings on time management, strategic planning, grant writing, etc.

A new city also means a new host family. Peace Corps Kazakhstan requires that Volunteers live with a host family for at least the first 4 months of their service at site, so they can get integrated into the community, the culture, and practice their language. I'm currently living with a Korean family in their apartment in the neighborhood of the 11th Micro-region. I can see you scratching your head and thinking to yourself, "Koreans? In Kazakhstan?" It's a bit confusing, I know. There are actually about 100,000 Koreans in the country, so the fact that I'm living with a Korean family is not as strange as it seems. They are almost completely Russified - they speak Russian, not Korean; they cook traditional Russian dishes; watch Russian TV channels, etc.

I live with Louisa who is 65 and Ira, her daughter, who is 25. They are originally from Uzbekistan (their family has been in Tashkent since the 1940s), but they moved to Kazakhstan about 15 years ago. They are wonderful and chill and have hosted a Peace Corps Volunteer in the past, so they know what to expect. Ira speaks pretty good English, but at home we stick to Russian. They have accepted my vegetarianism, though they are confused by it, and they let me do my own thing. Ira and I go to the movies, go shopping, and gossip and do all sorts of sister-like things. 

There are 6 other Volunteers in Shymkent, which means there are many opportunities for American time. Three Volunteers are Kaz-21s (the 21st group of Volunteers in Kazakhstan), and three are Kaz-22s like me. The 21s have already been here for a year and will be finishing their service next fall. They're all really great and have lots of good advice about dealing with local coworkers and know all of the tasty places to eat in the city. They collectively run 4 community clubs every week (2 English clubs, American Film Club, Women's Club) and are really active.

Besides the Volunteers here there are 2 Fulbright scholars, a handful of missionaries, and a smattering of ex-pats, most of whom deal in oil.

On a completely different note, Happy Belated Thanksgiving! It was strange not to be at home for one of my favorite holidays, but never fear. With the large number of Americans in the city, we managed to put on a pretty good Thanksgiving feast. The 7 of us volunteers living in Shymkent spent the Saturday after Thanksgiving cooking enough food to feed 20, and that night all of the Peace Corps Volunteers from our region came in to the city for dinner. There was not turkey, but there was pumpkin pie, vegetarian chili, chicken, mashed potatoes, corn bread and many other tasty things. We invited a few local friends along to experience their first Thanksgiving, and a good time was had by all.

Generally, life is good at the moment. I'm trying to stay busy at work, which is a bit difficult because my coworkers don't quite know what to do with me. I started a volunteer club for local youth to take part in the projects my organization puts together, and I'm hoping to start a partnership to have our volunteers do skills trainings at a local orphanage. One step at a time, of course. Until then, I'll be drinking lots of tea, and making chit chat.

Brown Paper Packages and KazPost

Today I have two stories for you about the postal system. The Kazakhstani postal system is a strange thing.

Story number one goes something like this: last week I went to the post office to mail a letter to my friend Tommy in Tanzania. I showed up at the post office during the pre-lunch rush, pulled out my letter already sealed in an international envelope, held it up to the window and asked the young woman behind the counter "Is it possible to send this to Tanzania?" There was a very long pause, a look of confusion, and then she asked "To where?" "To Tanzania" I replied. [A quick aside: This particular window at the post office is not only the place to send international letters, but also the place to pick up Avon packages. So throughout this entire exchange, women highly made up with brightly colored eye shadow are interrupting and asking for their packages from Avon. Even in Kazakhstan, Avon's calling.]

She thought about it for awhile and asked again, "To where?" So I replied "To Africa." She shrugged her shoulders and said "Sure." She stamped the letter a few times and threw it in a stack. It will be a miracle if this letter ever reaches Tanzania. I'm sorry Tommy, I tried really hard.

Story number two goes like this: I went to the post office to send a package to the States. I wasn't quite sure about the method of sending packages, so I figured I'd show up with what I wanted to send and hope for the best. So I show up with a small Kazakhstani handicraft and a handmade letter, hand it to my favorite young lady working the "International Post" window, and ask "How do I send a package to America?" She looks at my stack of things, raises a quizzical eyebrow and asks "You want to send this to America?" I confirm that this is in fact what I hope to do, and she goes into the back room, presumably to get a box. She returns a minute later with an entire slew of postal employees in tow, butcher paper, and twine. The postal employees crowd around to see what the foreigner is sending. They look at the items I'm sending, ask the woman helping me "She's sending this to America??", the woman confirms. The crowd of postal employees begin to whisper about how strange it is that I'm sending these items all the way to America, there's lots of giggling and many strange looks. The woman helping me wraps my small stack of things in butcher paper, ties it with twine, and seals it with a wax seal. This package, dear reader, is honestly straight out of 1925, but it's heading to the future and America. Hopefully it makes it there in one piece.

New Address

Quick note, here's my new address:

 

Katie Whitmore                      Katie Whitmore

Корпус Мира                         Peace Corps

А/я 62                                   PO Box 62

Шымкент, Казахстан              Shymkent, Kazakhstan

160000                                  160000

 

I included both the Russian version and the English version. It might be easiest just to paste it into a word document, print both off, and tape them to whatever wonderful thing you're sending.

 

Thanks for all the mail. You guys are the best!! xoxo

 

Shymkent!

Alright, get ready for a proper update about my site for the next two years. Most of the info here is copied directly from the information provided by my Peace Corps regional manager. I've included personal commentary in square brackets. Also, consider how long two years is. It's very long, I feel. Anyways, here goes...

Site: Shymkent

Type of Site: City

History: Shymkent is 2200 years and was once part of the Silk Road.

Distance from large cities: 150 km from Taraz 7

700 km from Almaty

150 km from Tashkent (Uzbekistan)

Landscape and Climate: Close to the mountains, the Koshkar Ata river runs through the city. Flowering and hot summers, winters are mild with almost no snow [first time in my life I'll experience mild winters...], spring and fall are warm and long.

Economy: Industrial and cultural city. There are 69 enterprises of heavy, light and food industries [NOTE: I have no idea what this means, but it sounded important, so I typed it anyways]. Economy is generally developed and the standard of living is good. Prices for food and other goods are cheaper than in many other Kazakhstani cities.

Population: 750,000 people

Demographics: Population is 60% Kazakh , 30% Uzbek, 10% Other (Russian, Korean, Turkish, Uighur, Azerbaidzhani, Tadzhik, German)

Most Common Languages Spoken: Kazakh [I'm definitely going to find a Kazakh tutor], Russian and Uzbek [and I'd love to pick up as much Uzbek as possible]

Entertainment/Sports/Culture: 8 parks, 5 theatres, palace of culture, a lot of movie theatres, 28 city libraries [love!!!], cafes, restaurants, discos, bowling, swimming pools, sport centers, etc.

Transportation info: Taxis, marshrutkas [taxi vans that travel along a fixed route, they're faster than buses], prices are cheaper than in Almaty

Safety and security: Safe city, people are open and friendly

There are 3 Peace Corps Volunteers already living in Shymkent, 2 are Youth Development Volunteers, and one is a Education Volunteer. Three other volunteers will be moving there with me in November, which will make for nice company. Two of them are education volunteers, and one is a Youth Development Volunteer.

Brief Info on Work Assignment:

Name of Work Site: Youth Information Center of Kazakhstan (MISK)

Job Description: Social projects for youth, information programs for youth, youth events, education programs for youth, employment opportunities and professional orientation, leadership building, volunteerism development (through trainings, roundtables, forums, seminars)

Number of staff members: 4 people

Other comments: Successfully functioning NGO, famous among Shymkent Youth. Great, motivated staff looking forward to working with a Peace Corps Volunteer.

Site Announcement!!!!!

Here it is, dear readers, the moment you've all been waiting for. Site placements were announced last Saturday, and I will be spending the next two years in a city called Shymkent in the south of the country. I'll be working at an non-profit called MISK (the English translation is "The Youth Information Center of K-stan") that's run by three women in their 20s that sound like they really get stuff done. It's not the city I wanted, but I think it's really going to work out well. There're already 2 youth development volunteers there, whom I think I could become pretty good friends with. I'll do a larger post with more specifics about the org and the city, but I wanted to give you all a sneak peek.

 

 This week on Wednesday we're going into Almaty for a 2 day Counterpart Conference, where all of us Youth Development Trainees get to meet our counterparts (the host country nationals at our orgs who will be responsible for our well-being) and our organization directors and do some seminary things that involve learning how to work together, drinking insane amounts of tea, etc.
 
I'm not gonna lie. I'm pumped about it. Super pumped! The org sounds great, and like they could really use a volunteer to do some organizational development, exactly what I want to do! It's gonna be good. The skies have cleared.

Pre-Service Training and Practicum, juicy details, etc.

It's been awhile since my last post, so this one will be a good one full of juicy details.

 

We're in our 9^th week of Pre-Service Training (PST), meaning that we have only 2 weeks (*gasp*) until we will be sworn in as official Peace Corps Volunteers. PST has been a roller coaster of days of complete clarity when I know I'm definitely in the right place and days of complete confusion. Thankfully the confusing days have been relatively few and far between. The last few weeks we've been concentrating on completely all of our Practicum hours. This takes up about half of our training time and is a way for us Trainees to get our feet wet before we end up in the real working world of the Peace Corp Volunteer. To complete our practicum Youth Development Trainees must lead 6 hours of English Club (hour-long English lessons that are more games than lessons), 6 hours of hobby clubs (I'm working with the school's Leaders Group), 5 hours of content based lessons (we still haven't figured out what these are... we've done 4 hours of training on leadership, but Peace Corps doesn't consider that Content Based), 2 hours of trainings (we're going to work with the English teachers), and a service learning project. Our service learning project has consumed most of my time and sanity for the last month. Our project is teaching students to plan and lead a Halloween Carnival for their school. This sounds relatively simple, but consider the following things: no school funding, no supplies, kids here have no critical thinking skills, there is no consistency with students' attendance, all the meetings are entirely in Russian, people here have never heard of Halloween. Cross your fingers, dear reader, that everything will go as planned and the event won't be a total flop.

 

With all of these hours to complete in addition to 5 hours of Russian language everyday, my enthusiasm for training is quickly fading. I feel like we've been here an age, and am ready to move to my permanent site and start working, but at the same time these past weeks have flown by and I can't believe training is almost over. After being surrounded by other Trainees and Peace Corps staff almost constantly for 3 months, in no time at all I'll find myself pretty alone in a strange city with few English speakers.

 

The site placement process is complicated. Peace Corps tells us they match us to sites according to our our resumes, our aspiration statements (I wrote mine in approximately 12 minutes, you can imagine how thoughtful and thorough it is...), and how we've been doing in training. Despite this, I'm convinced that all the staff get together on a Friday afternoon, pull out the beer, and throw darts at a map. Let's face it, the dart process is way more fun and they probably get just as good of results. There's just no way to determine which site will be a perfect match based on 2 pieces of paper, so why not just have some fun, throw some darts, and hope for the best.

 

In non-work-related news, today a few Trainees and I trekked to Kazakhstan's largest bazaar to purchase winter coats. Please don't hassle me for not bringing a coat with me. I couldn't possibly have fit a winter coat in my suitcase, and based on my experience in Russia, I knew I couldn't possibly find anything in the US that would be remotely suitable for post-Soviet winter fashion. You can't blame me for wanting to try to blend in, can you? So this bazaar is called Barakholka, and is literally miles of bazaars that make up one giant bazaar mecca. According to my language instructor the best quality coats are in the "European Bazaar", but they're also the most expensive, so we went to the bazaar across the street instead. After trying on 8 different monstrosities, haggle the price down 3,000 tenge (about $20), and threatening to leave without buying anything twice, I bought a coat. I'm quite please with it. It's black and poofy and has a creepy fur hood that I'm going to remove. The seller insisted that it's down, and it feels like down, but the very Chinese label says it's 100% nylon, so who knows. My host family insists that it won't be warm enough for winter if I live in the north, but I think it will do just fine. Though I know winter in the US is different from winter here, I have done winter before. I think I'll be alright.

 

So that's what's been happening here in K-stan. The next big event is this-coming Saturday. We will all be gathered in a school auditorium for site announcements. It's going to be a circus. Peace Corps apparently makes a PowerPoint slideshow, with one slide dedicated to each Trainee. Our slide will show the city/town we've been placed in, the organization/school we'll be working with, and a picture of our site. That auditorium is going to be a madhouse of emotionally unbalanced Trainees who are all either rejoicing at their site announcement or sobbing. I'm crossing my fingers for anywhere that is not the north. That being said, I've probably jinxed myself and will soon be Peace Corps northernmost Volunteer. We'll see on Saturday.

 

 

New Address Will Be Forthcoming

I'm sitting at a fake Starbucks called "Moka Loka" stealing free wireless internet. There are expats and french fries, it's glorious. I'll go back to being hardcore, flexible Peace Corps Trainee tomorrow. But until then, I'll be here drinking too much coffee.

I just returned from a 4 day excursion to the city of Taldykurgan, a city about 3 hours north of Almaty. I had a pretty excellent time, and need to mentally prepare myself to go back to language and technical trainings tomorrow. Just so you all know, my address will be changing very soon. In a few weeks we'll find out which site we'll be placed at and what organization we'll be working with for the next 2 years. Once this happens, I'll post my new address, but until then don't send anything because I'll probably be living in a different city by the time it gets here.

I'll post a detailed account of my recent travels someday soon.

The cost of a clean rug

It turns out, perhaps unsurprisingly, that vacuum cleaner salesmen exist everywhere. Even in Kazakhstan. On Friday, there was a Kirby vacuum cleaner salesman at our house for 5 hours. He arrived at noon, and left just after 5 pm. My host sister Donna had agreed to let him come because he promised to clean the area rug in the TV room for free. By the time I got home at 4pm, my host mom had put him to work steam-cleaning and vacuuming said rug. This specific Kirby vacuum is some kind of wonder vacuum that costs 630,000 Tenge (roughly $4,200). I'm not sure people here make that kind of money even in an entire year. Needless to say, my host mom did not buy the $4200 Kirby Wonder Vacuum. But she does have a very clean rug.

The story you've all been waiting for

(Written 9/07) Okay, you've waited long enough. I give you: "The Tale of the Feast that Involved Many Sheep Heads"

 

One evening I got back to my host family's house later than usual. On a typical day and with lots of luck I'm home by 6:00 or 6:30, usually just in time for dinner. On this particular evening I had stayed an hour and a half after our technical training to work on some extra assignments with our language instructor. So I finished the tutoring session, and after spending 11 hours at school, I'm finally home. As soon as I get inside and take my shoes off, my host mom tell's me that she has been waiting for me, and hopes I can help her carry some heavy bags. She says we're going to her oldest daughter's house to drop the bags off, and that it will take half an hour. I weigh the possible options, and because I'm trying to take the Peace Corps encouragement to integrate to heart, I figure it's no big deal to help my host mom out for half an hour. Integration comes first, dinner and homework can wait.

 

On the walk over my host mom explains that the bags are full of clothing for her daughter's husband's sister's neighbor (you follow?) whose house burned down two weeks ago. Now this woman has no home, so her neighbors are helping her get back on her feet. My host mom asks me if I think it's sad, and I agree, it is very sad their house burned down. It's very nice of my host mom to help. (These are the very deep, heartfelt things I'm able to say in Russian...). This is all happening as we're weaving through unlit and unpaved streets at 8:30pm. Every once in awhile we yell at the stray dogs that try to follow us, and every once in awhile my host mom calls the groups of teenagers hanging out on the streets hooligans.

 

After half an hour we arrive at my host mom's daughter's house. We take our shoes off on the porch, chat with the men in the backyard who are sitting around a bonfire, and go inside. As we step inside I quickly realize that we are not there just to drop the bags of clothing off. A low table in the living room is set for 12 and covered with various salads, bread, sweets, dried fruit, candy, and dishes. It has seemed, dear reader, that we had come not to drop clothing off, but to attend a feast. My host mom's oldest daughter, you see, is practicing Ramadan, meaning that do not consume anything during the day throughout the entire month of Ramadan, and must do all their eating and drinking after dark. I'm ushered into the living room, introduced to the guests there, and told to sit at the table.

 

Gradually everyone else joins the table, and my oldest host sister brings two giant dishes full of a noodles to the table. The dish is called beshbarmak and is considered the national dish of Kazakhstan. My host sister made all of the noodles by hand, and her family slaughtered the sheep that supplied to mutton for the dish. This is of course very overwhelming, but I figure I can handle some tasty noodles and a little bit of meat.

 

Next thing I know her husband and uncle have come in from what I thought was a simple bonfire each carrying a large dish of roasted mutton and a sheep head. The heads are passed to the head of the table (the place of honor) to the 87-year-old neighbor woman who picks up a paring knife and in no time at all begins carving the meat off the heads. The ears and tongues go first, and are passed down the table. I luckily avoided those delicacies, but ended up with quite a bit of face meat on my plate. My host sister's husband (who is generally amused by me and thinks vegetarianism is a hilarious notion) has sat down next to me and fills my plate with a few sheep ribs, more face meat, and some suspicious-looking sausage.

 

I'm not gonna lie, the dish was tasty. The handmade noodles were delicious and even the ribs and face meat weren't bad. There was no silverware at the table so everything was eaten by hand (it turns out Beshbarmak means "five fingers" and is named for the way it is eaten). Food was passed around and people ate until they could eat no more.

 

The table was cleared, the dishes were washed, and a large samovar and tea cups were brought out. Everyone lounged (literally) around the table and tea was passed around and sweets were brought out. Stories are told, people recall previous celebrations with other family members, and my host mom's youngest brother regales us with a tale about last New Year's when he consumed an entire samovar's worth of tea in one sitting.

 

I am now a big fan of Ramadan, and nightly Ramadan feasts, and Kazakh family gatherings. And I gained major street cred by eating that face meat. 

 

A brief note on laughter.

Dear readers,

Sorry I fail at getting to the internet cafe before it closes. I'll try to be better.

I hope this makes up for it.

(Written 8/27)

My host family is crazy about laughing. They laugh about everything, all the time, period. Everything is hilarious to them, which I in turn find hilarious. They laugh during tea, during dinner, at their children, at their relatives, at their neighbors, and sometimes (and quite politely, I might add) at me. They find joy in everything, which is completely refreshing. I have no doubt, dear reader, that you wouldn't be able to last five minutes in this household without cracking a grin. (Note: The only person not entirely amused by life is Inkar, my host mom's oldest daughter's youngest daughter ((you follow?)). She cries a lot. Her lack of amusement is excusable because A. She's usually walking around without any pants on; B. She brings me things while I'm studying, frequently a tomato or else a her socks; and C. She's teething.) When all's said and done, I live with an inexplicably happy family. Who needs an indoor toilet and a shower when they could have perpetual amusement instead?

A timely update, and a mention of a feast

It turns out, dear reader, that I'm pretty awful at updating this thing. Also, Blogger is blocked in Kazakhstan, so I have to update things by email which makes it a bit confusing. Please bear with the K-stan insanity.

Here are a few updates:
1. Tomorrow is the first day of school across K-stan. It turns out we won't be introducing ourselves to the entire school as expected. The director decided there wasn't enough time, or else our Russian skills are too awful to be heard in the halls of such a fine establishment. Instead we will be observing an English class to better understand the educational system here.
2. Throughout training we will be completing 16 hours of "practicum," by leading English clubs, extracurriculur clubs, and other classes to gain experience working with youth. This is slightly terrifying, as I have no real teaching experience. I hope I will not make a fool of myself. Keep your fingers crossed for me, dear reader.
3. There are a number of running jokes my family has started that you should be aware of.

                 a. Either my host family will turn me into a carnivore in the next 3 months, or I'll turn them all into vegetarians. At the moment I have the upper hand,

but considering last night we had a Ramadan feast involving not one, but two sheep heads, it's still a toss-up as to who will prevail.

                                     b. In the next two months my host family and all their relatives will successfully find me a good Kazakh husband. Never fear, I'm steering clear of this one.


In general, I'm still in the honeymoon period of all this business. Things are still going great, and I love the other Trainees I get to work with. If there were fewer pit toilets and roasted sheep heads, I'd like it better.

I finally found an Internet Cafe with USB Ports!

I have decided, dear reader, that for the purpose of blogging, internet clubs with USB ports are my friend. I have found such a place, thus, the post you deserved, but didn't receive.

 

Written on 8/23/2010 - Alright folks, to make up for the lack of internet connection, I'm gonna cram a lot of nonsense into one long post.

 

After almost 2 days of travel (including, but not limited to, a flight from DC to Frankfurt, then Frankfurt to Almaty) we arrived in Kazakhstan last Friday at 1 am. We waited for our luggage, got our passports stamped, and were greeted by John Sasser, the PC Country Director for Kazakhstan. We spent the night at a "sanitorium" (sort of Hotel/Conference Center-esque) and began opening sessions the next morning at 8. In short, all 74 of us sat in a conference hall hearing about different aspects of PC Kazakhstan from the Country Director; the Regional Director of PC Europe, Mediterranean, and Asia; and PC Volunteers assisting with the training. There was lots of sleep deprivation, jet laggery, and complete disregard for all suggestions of  note taking. We stayed up until the late hours of the evening to buy cell phones and sim cards (note: my number is 011-8-705-626-69-37, text me!!) and fell into our awkwardly sized sanitorium beds.

 

Day 2 followed the same schedule of information sessions, adding a 2 hour language lesson in the afternoon. Let me just say, a but redundant for the Russian Major. But, as Peace Corps demands, I was flexible and pretended to enjoy 2 hours of "Hello-my-name-is-Katie"-instruction. Then we were loaded onto buses and shipped to surrounding towns and villages to meet our host families.

 

I am currently living in the town of Talgar with a handful of Education Volunteers and half of the Youth Development Volunteers. I live with a Kazakh family consisting of my host mom Karlagosh, host sisters Donna and Dianna, and Donna's 6-month-old son Amir. Their house is quite nice and has a huge tangled garden out back. They have a raspberry and strawberry patch; pear, plum, and apple trees; and trillions of vegetables. The have a toilet in the house, but that's only for winter-use, so we use the outhouse at the far back of the yard. They have only cold water running inside, so to wash we go the banya out back. Think Russian-style-bath-house-ala-"Eastern-Promises"-minus-the-naked-fight-scene-and-a-little-more-rustic and you've got the right picture. There's a wood-burning stove used to heat a big tank of water that we then pour into smaller basins to wash with. It's surprisingly refreshing.

 

The food so far has been just fine. Lots of veggies and bread and tea, all things I'm a big fan of. At my host mom's oldest daughter's house I was confronted with the national dish of Kazakhstan beshbarmak, which is essentially meat and handmade noodles. Sounds normal enough, right? Not quite, dear reader, as the meat is typically horse. The beshbarmak I encountered, however, was made with mutton. Much better, right? Would've been, except for the whole sheep head resting glorious in the center of the dish.

 

 Our official training started today. I go to class for 9 hours a day at School #8. It is a gymnasium that specializes in language, teaching students in Russian, Kazakh, and English. For the next three months I'll be in class 6 days a week, with 4 hours of language class in the morning and 4 hours of technical training and practical experience in the afternoon. September 1st, the first day of school, we'll be introducing ourselves to the entire school – parents, students, teachers, directors, janitors, possibly neighborhood dogs, etc. - explaining our background, what we're doing in K-stan, and  what sort of programming we'd like to do. We're also supposed mention a few interesting facts about ourselves to entice the students to come to our programs, so I'll need to think some interesting things up on the double!

 

Well, that's about it for now. Tomorrow is day to of Pre-Service Training (PST), get ready for 4 hours of redundant language instruction, a tasty lunch of leftover pilaf, and 4 hours of technical preparation.

 

Greetings, from glorious Kazakhstan!!

Greetings, dear reader, from beautiful Kazakhstan!! I wrote a terribly entertaining blog post on my laptop at my host family's house which I put on my flash drive, but the computer at this classy internet club doesn't have a usb port, so I'm writing on the flyyyyy!

Things so far are going amazingly well. We left DC last Wednesday, arrived in K-stan Friday morning at 1am, and began training the same morning at 8. For the first two days the entire group stayed at a " sanitorium" (something like a hotel with an emphasis in relaxation??) in Almaty, spending both days in sessions on PC policy in K-Stan, cultural information, safety and security, and a welcome address of sorts from the Country Director. After two days of sleeping on awkwardly sized mattresses, we were split into five groups of trainees, and sent to our training villages. These five villages are each within an hour of Almaty, and is where we will spend the first 3 months of our service doing Pre-Service Training (PST).

I live in the town/city of Talgar with 8 other Youth Development trainees and a handful of Education trainees. My host family consists of my host mother Karlagosh, her daughter Donna (20 years old), her other daughter Dianna (14 years old), and Donna's 6 month old son Amir. The house is also full of other relatives, neighborhood children, etc. that wander in and out throughout the day. We have running water in the house, which is a huge plus, though it's only cold water. To bathe, we go to the banya, which is a sauna of sorts in a shed in the backyard. It's pretty sweet, I'm a big fan. For bathroom needs, there's a squat toilet in a tiny shed in the far reaches of the backyard. The door doesn't close all the way, but it works. They also purchased toilet paper especially for me, so don't think I'm roughing it too hard.

Monday through Saturday I attend classes 8am-6pm. In the morning I "learn" Russian (or relearn, or relax) with 4 other trainees. Our instructor is named Zhenya. She is 22-years-old, Russian, and completely adorable. In the afternoon, the other 5 Youth Development volunteers come to our school for technical training sessions. At these sessions we learn how to be Youth Development Volunteers. So far we've covered Youth Development policy in K-stan, how to conduct English clubs, and some of the challenges that Volunteers face. I'm not gonna lie, I'm terrified to have to do any sort of teaching. At least I have 2 weeks to figure it out before we take classes on our own. Until then, it'll just be a lot more instruction, group bonding, and general camaraderie, which sounds like a pretty sweet gig.

That's all for now folks, I'll try to post again soon. Right now I gotta book it home before my host mom worry's herself into a tizzy over my absence and calls the police/army/Country Director, etc.

The road to K-stan

I'm in DC in a Holiday Inn enjoying the last air conditioning I'll be feeling for some time. Reality is beginning to sink in that I'm finally really doing this thing, and that tomorrow I'll be taking up residence in a strange and faraway land.

There are 74 Peace Corps Trainees (PCTs) in the Kaz-22 group (Peace Corps lingo for the 22nd group of volunteers to head to Kazakhstan). Most volunteers work in the Education (EDU) program, while the rest work in Youth Development (YD) program. I'm a YD trainee, so after 3 months of rigorous language, business, culture, etc. training I'll be placed with a host organization to do an as of yet undetermined job. Youth Development volunteers in K-stan seem to work across a vast spectrum of youth organizations and non-profits. It's all a bit unclear, but once I get to my site, I hope to have a better sense of the job description.

Tomorrow we leave at 12:30pm for Dulles Airport where I'll lug my 4 unruly bags (2 checked, 2 carry-ons) through security to hop a flight to Frankfurt. After a 6 hour layover there, we'll hop another flight to Almaty, KZ. We'll arrive in Kazakhstan at about 1am, and need to be at training at 7am that morning. It's going to be a few days of exhaustion and stress, but at least there's 74 of us in the same boat. And I think we're all up to the challenge. Or we're really good at faking it.

Numb3rs

In packing for the long trek to Kazakhstan, I have compiled a briefly itemized list of some things included in the process:

Pairs of long underwear - 4
Movies downloaded to my hard drive - 61
Gifts for my host families - 12
Copies of my passport hidden amongst my belongings - 3
Books - 5
Books in English - 4
Music in gigabytes - 21.6
Pictures of those I'm most fond of - 63
Amount of flu I'm vaccinated against - H1N1
Hours remaining stateside - 11
Times I unpacked everything and repacked it all - 4.5 (the last time I only repacked one of my bags, hence the 0.5)
Rum and cokes we will partake of this evening - many

Packed for 2 Years? Check!

Whew! I'm finally packed. I think. And hope. I'm allowed to bring 2 large bags that will be checked, each weighing no more than 50 lbs. It's ridiculous to think that a person could pack for 2 entire years in 2 suitcases. But I think I've done it! I'm taking a rolling duffel and a hiker's backpack, which I'm hoping I can successfully navigate through multiple airports and the streets/paths/unpaved roads of Kazakhstan. I'm also taking a sweet backpack as a carry-on that's slash-proof. If James Bond used backpacks, he would use this backpack. It's perfect spy gear. Or Peace Corps gear, as it turns out.

I'm doing my best to round up random trinkets, knickknacks and whirligigs that I want to bring along, and I've been snapping pictures like crazy to show my host family. I'm getting more excited and less nervous with every hour, though I'm sure the second I'm in DC I'll panic a bit. But I hope it will be an exciting sort of panicking.