Wednesday Photo: Falling colors

Falling colors, originally uploaded by coming2cambodia.

Taken in Almaty, Kazakhstan.

***Sorry it is late— Can I blame the time change???***

Upsetting the “authorities”

Followed

I haven’t done as much touristy things this trip for several reasons. First, I have spent a lot of time working. Second, I have spent a lot of time meeting people. Third, I want to do a lot of this stuff—like go up to the mountains—with S.  Fourth, because I want to use this time to plan our move.  What do we need? What can we buy here? What should I worry about? These questions are ones that I normally don’t think about when traveling.

When we move, we may try and bring some food stuffs that will help our kitchen taste like home.  I am all for trying local cuisine and sampling the local restaurants; however, there are nights when I simply crave a familiar taste.  I know we will be able to ship stuff and people have said that we can buy almost anything here— but I have also heard that the city was very expensive.

I decided to go out and investigate.  I found a trusty pen and pad of paper and headed out. I went to Gros, one of the many supermarkets in the area.  I have heard that they are less expensive than Interfood and Ramstore, but their selection is not as good.

As I wandered through the store, trying to decipher what items were and writing down prices, I found myself being followed.  One guard seemed to have decided that writing in a supermarket was a very suspicious activity. Pretty soon there was a second. And a third.

I continued writing and looking.

After a while, they finally decided to confront me. A woman stepped forward and said, in Russian, something that I can only assume meant: “What the hell are you doing writing in MY store??”  Not wanting to try to have a conversation with three guards in broken Russian, I replied in my worst accent: “ne panemayu”.

They returned to discussing what to do about me. I returned to writing down prices. In the end, it was a standoff. They won, I left. I won, I had a list.  Here it is:

Item	Price in Tenge	Price in dollars (as of 10/20/09) Exchange rate 150 tg to 1 USD
Juice (1 liter)	195-500	$1.30-$3.33
Olive Oil (750ml)	1400	$9.33
Green Olives (can)	200-300	$1.33-$2.00
Black Olives (can)	190-300	$1.27-$2.00
Vinegar (250ml)	374	$2.49
Tartar sauce (275ml)	386	$2.57
Jar whole pepper	369	$2.46
1 lint roller	603	$4.02
O.B. tampon (box of 32)	738	$4.92
Kotex (box of 12)	309	$2.06
Nivea Body cream (250ml)	741	$4.94
Kleenex x 4 toilet paper	550	$3.67
Pedigree 2 kilos	974	$6.49
Pringles large	485	$3.23
Wine	672-2000	$4.48-13.33
Cricova champagne	1446-635	$4.23-$9.64
Martini (100cl)	2030	$13.53
Kailua (70cl)	4350	$29.00
Bombay Gin (100cl)	4712	$31.41
Sauza Tequila (70cl)	4439	$29.59
Captain Morgan Rum (75cl)	2852	$19.01
Bacardi Oro (75cl)	3230	$21.53
Leffe (330ml)	383	$2.55
Hoegaarden (50ml)	239	$1.59
Lowenbrau	173	$1.15
Jardin Supremo Coffee med bag	533	$3.55

For the love of George!

Grad school was a good time for me.  Everything slowly came together: work, studies, future, friends.  I loved the flexibility that my program had– that I could individualize, choose my classes, and complete my practicum abroad. I was stimulated mentally by both teachers and classmates. And, perhaps best of all, I had great friends.

Looking back at life, grad school was the first time I had a truly cohesive group of friends that were mine.  They got along. They weren’t psychologically abusive. We had fun, whether at PBR Wednesday or walking through the park.  I haven’t stayed in touch with all of them– some, like Masuda, I wish I could fine. Some, like Senik, I have worried about as they returned to their home countries. Others are simply facebook friends or an email here or there.

My graduate school was filled with many wonderful people– a fair number of them were international students. I am not convinced that there is something about the students at GWB (George Warren Brown School of Social Work— now know as Brown School).  I met an alumna here in Almaty. She was one of the international students a few years before me. Like my friends, she is a fun, intelligent, compassionate woman.  She has  introduced me to her friends and taken me around Almaty.  Its nice to know that when I move here next summer, I will have friends waiting.

Linguistics of my life

When a child is born, she is capable of recognizing every sound possible. As she grows, she loses this ability.  She only retains those sounds common in the world around, her native tongue or tongues.  How do we know this?  Well, linguists did experiments. They had tapes of the same sound being played over and over: “bee…bee…bee”.  They gave babies special nookies—ones with sensors attached that monitored the frequency and strength of their sucking.  With new stimuli, a new sound for example, a baby will increase frequency and strength of their sucking.  As the grow accustomed to the stimuli, the return to a base rate.  Scientists found that overtime, children lost the example to distinguish sounds.

As adults, this lack of ability to hear different sounds and differentiate them is a key difficulty in learning new languages.  So, we find ways to imitate.  We connect what is new to the world we already know.  When trying to help Spanish students roll their Rs, we tell them to say a D and a R quickly together.

The same happens as we try to describe new phenomenon, food, or places.  We say that the new dish tastes like that old favorite. Or Pepsi tastes like coke only sweeter.

I find myself in the same situation right now.  I am trying to describe Almaty in a way I can understand, in a way S can understand, in a way home can understand. I say things like: oh, I loved the green market, it was just like markets in Chile or if you go down that street, it is kind of like walking in Patronato, in Santiago, Chile or wow! the pizza at Pizza Hut in Almaty tastes just like that at home or its like Moldova only fancy.

How do I describe this place for what it is and not based on what I already know?

Photo Wednesday: Fairytale Castle

Zenkov Cathedral, originally uploaded by coming2cambodia.

Subject: Zenkov Cathedral, a orthodox church in Almaty, Kazakhstan.
Taken: October 2009

Excitement: A play in one act

Key players:

Me- On my first visit to Kazakhstan.

Cooper- On his first visit to Kazakhstan, recently returning on an overnight train from the capitol.

Larissa- Has lived in Almaty for several months now

Setting:

Philharmonic theater in Almaty.  The doors are not yet open. A crowd gathers under multiple chandeliers. Paintings hang on the wall. A small group of Americans gathers in the corner.

Que lights.

Larissa: So…. what did you do today Clare?

Clare: I ended up in a chandelier store.

Cooper: OH MY GOD! So did I!!!!!

Lights.

Trip down memory lane (in Chile)

DSC_6211, originally uploaded by Chinmong.

Emily put out a challenge to talk about our first trips in Chile. She has a great post up with photos. Sadly, I am blogging from Kazakhstan, so I don’t have access to my photos. I do, however, have a story.

Or rather, I have a crystal clear memory of my arrival and my first trip in Chile. Keep in mind, we are talking August 17, 1996.

I remember coming through the glass doors of the airport. I remember I was wearing the purple velvet hat I had bought in Germany 2 years before. I remember meeting my host dad– the actual finding him part is a bit fuzzy– but I remember his laugh. The host mother was there as well. As we walked out of the airport, there was a huge billboard for Crystal Beer; I still can see it in my head. In actuality, there is now a hotel where the billboard once stood.

I remember being in the car. It was beige, four door. We were driving down route five and passing all these little houses. Everything was so green and there were cows! We stopped at Bavaria. This was my first trip in Chile.

At Bavaria, my host dad ordered my lunch. I got a hamburger with avocado, tomato and mayonnaise. I drank my very first fresh raspberry juice. It was delicious.

We kept driving. At the point in the road where the old mall was (Punta de Sol– at the time it was a happening place) we turned on to Kennedy St. My host dad started talking about JFK. We finally arrived at home; the had been telling me about it the whole trip. They said we lived in a water tower. As we drove down Kennedy, I actually saw a water tower. Up until this point, I assumed that I had misunderstood. Heck, I only got about 45% of what came out of Juan’s mouth. But, I saw a water tower. As we approached, we slowed down. And then turned. Turns out that they lived in front of a water tower.

And I was home.

Other stories:

• Emily
• Abby
• Lydia
• Annje
• Eileen

Photo Wednesday: Not quite home

The first thing S and I did when we found out we were headed to Almaty, was google pictures of the city.  In some ways, it is similar to Santiago– surrounded by mountains, some smog, tree lined streets in the suburbs.  So… here it is.  I arrived last night, in the dark.  This was my first view of the city this morning.

And a more panoramic view:

Random thoughts from a jetlagged mind or My husband has a point

I am 10 hours into my 19.5 hour trip to Almaty. Generally, I would spend less time counting, but as I am sure that I will be doing this trek at least 3 more times (round trip), I am paying attention. Was that a run-on sentence?

I sleep on planes. It is a blessing really; a skill that I can thank my mother for—she has sleeper genes. When I traveled to Moldova as a Peace Corps volunteer, some of the other volunteers on the plane decided to start drinking tiny bottles of wine and seeing how many of the caps they could build in a pyramid on me before waking me. It was a lot—I think nine! Ironically, we were on our way to the same airport that I sit in now: Frankfort.

Last night, while sleeping fitfully in a middle seat, I did something that my husband accuses me of all the time: I stole my neighbor’s pillow. I, of course, had no idea. I was asleep! Nonetheless, in my sleep, a stole a stranger’s pillow and proceeded to sleep with it all night. He claims to have not slept a wink.

Is this something I should feel bad about? I had no idea that I was doing it.

My husband complains endlessly about me stealing blankets and pillows. The matter is made worse because I prefer a cold house and, therefore, once I have stolen all the blankets, he is left freezing. We have so many pillows that I am pretty sure he survives on that front.

To make up for it—what little I could—I had a nice conversation with the man over breakfast. He was a Jordanian English teacher converted into a school principal. He, and nine Jordanian colleagues, had just completed several weeks on a program in the U.S. to visit schools and learn about U.S. curriculum. He visited D.C., St. Louis and Chicago. When I asked his opinion—always interesting to hear what other people think of our institutions, what they see and what they miss—he told me two things. (1) The schools are very well equipped. (2) Democracy in the school is bad for the children and the learning environment. Further inquiry told me that by Democracy he meant freedom—freedom to eat in class, to play chess, to disrespect teachers, to do homework or not. In his mind, democracy, and the school system in the U.S., were chaos.

Hate is NOT a family (or American) value

Hate is NOT a family value, originally uploaded by coming2cambodia.

When I was 17, I got involved with lesbian, gay, bisexual rights as my high school was forming its gay-straight alliance. In the 90s, this was still considered progressive and controversial. I have taken part in marches and other moves for equality, including blogging about them, ever since.

Yesterday, I went to the National March for Equality in Washington DC. For me, the march was special for two reasons, one unlike the DC pride parade, this one passed both the white house and the capitol. Two, I spent sometime talking to someone who has been out of the closet for quite a while, but who had never done anything like this. He was a proud member of the US military and, therefore, barred from participation. Having left the military officially the day before, this was our celebration. For him, this was a second step out of the closet; one where he could allow himself to be overwhelmed by the number of people marching, the PFLAG (Parents and Family of Lesbian and Gays) mothers screaming “we love you”, and feeling of celebration that the march gave him.

I have heard the argument that “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” (DADT) doesn’t harm anyone, because it doesn’t actually forbid service members from being gay. Silence is harmful. Silence teaches to internalize a sense of self that is less worthy. Silence says that we, as a country, support discrimination. And, silence, and the internalized homophobia that accompanies it, is hard and painful to unlearn. Support our troops– repeal DADT.

**This photo by RandalM– check out his page for more great photos**