Sunday, December 26, 2010

Toothpaste

December 23, 2010

 

Well, today it happened.  I'm out of toothpaste.

 

Just to fill in those of you who don't know, Arm & Hammer is my very favorite toothpaste.  I brought an extra large tube to Kazakhstan so I could enjoy its delicious wonderfulness as long as possible.  If days ever got really tough I told myself, "It's okay Anne, you only have to stay until you're out of toothpaste."  Of course, I was joking.  I'm pretty sure I'm in for the long haul now, but having a small goal helped. And it certainly brought me laughs.

 

After I coaxed the last dollop of paste from its container this morning, I felt a wave of personal victory.  Then I realized that I'll now have to settle for sub-par Colgate.  I'll miss you, minty-freshness. But the separation is only temporary.

Monday, December 20, 2010

She said what?!

December 18, 2010

This week I had to teach my 9th graders about reported speech. Are
you yawning yet? When I opened the textbook and saw that unit, I was
certainly ready for a snooze! But first I had to look up what in the
heck "reported speech" was. Good thing I'm an English teacher! (FYI-
"He said he would go to the store" is a reported speech version of "He
said, 'I will go to the store.'")

I dreaded that class. But English as a Second Language doesn't have
to be boring, right? I mean, the English-speaking Neanderthals in days
of old came up with reported speech for a reason. Surely they didn't
create this just to torture high school English students and teachers
for all future generations. So why do we use reported speech in real
life?

I thought. Then I had a plan.

I went to class and started planting rumors among my students. First,
they were boring and normal: "Sara will not come to school today
because she is sick" became, "Miss Flaker said Sara would not come to
school today…" As students got the hang of it, the rumors got more and
more bizarre. I whispered to one student and she quickly reported to
the class, "Miss Flaker said Pitbull would come to Kulan for New
Years!" The class was a buzz. "What?! Pitbull is coming here?!?!"
"When? In 2011?" "No way!" "Will he sing?" It was a total lie, but
suddenly, even the boys in the back (who are a total distraction to
the class) perked up their ears.

Then I pulled out the big one. I whispered to one of my trend-setting
students… She was astonished and half-whispered:

"Really?! Miss Flaker said Brad Pitt is her boyfriend!"

That's right, I said it!

In Kazakhstan, the mention of "boyfriend" in any language is worthy of
press coverage. It took a minute to settle in, then one of the kids
up front caught on… "No he's not! He's dating Angelina Jolie!" But
suddenly, every one in the room wanted to tell me who was dating whom.

Nursultan: Beyoncé! Beyoncé is my girlfriend!
Miss Flaker: I'm sorry, I didn't here that.
Shingus: He said Beyoncé was his girlfriend! Now me… Shakira is my girlfried!
Miss Flaker: Wait, what did he say?
Aidana: He said Shakira was his girlfriend. And I think Medina said
Tom Cruise was her boyfriend!

The whole class was laughing. The whole class was speaking English.
And the whole class was using the dreaded "Reported Speech."

Take that, Grammar! We're gonna learn English AND have fun!

Monday, December 13, 2010

A Man in the Kitchen

December 12, 2010

 

A man doing domestic work is pretty much unheard of around here.  They don't clean, and they don't cook.  Period.  They tend to the animals and fix the roofing, pipes, and electricity.  Very stereotypical, huh?

 

Today, my host mom left the house at noon.  If she's not cooking, it usually means no family-style meal.  Fend for yourself. No problem, I moved on with my day.  But at 4:30PM Abilda, my host dad, tapped on my door.  "Anne. Come. We'll eat." 

 

Say what?!?!  How are we gonna eat?  Did YOU cook something?  Because I know you're wife's not back!  I followed him to the kitchen, interested in his culinary achievement.  "Come. Sit."  I sat.  He put a pot of scalding soup in front of me.  The whole pot. The plastic tablecloth melted and stuck to my "bowl."

 

Once I got past the blistering assault on my taste buds, the soup was actually reasonable.  There were noodles and potatoes and meat.  I think he even put some pepper in it.  I did my best to make a dent in it and show my appreciation.  Then he pulled out a frozen brick of butter and the carving knife.  "Eat. Bread with butter is tasty." I ate bread, but didn't try my luck with the iced-lard. 

 

Despite its' flaws, I sat at the table with a grin.  I just ate a meal prepared for me, a woman, by a Kazakh man. It was simple and I probably won't taste anything else until Wednesday, but it was a great gesture.

Sometimes I do work…

December 12, 2010

 

So, I realized I've told you about my clothes and my dishes.  I've mentioned strange taxi rides and last minutes parties.  But I never really talk about what I do here.  I figured you didn't need a vocab lesson or to learn new English grammar rules.  But let me tell you, these kids are a piece of work! 

 

Last week, I had the pleasure of teaching about technology to my eighth graders. When I asked how many of them used computers, five students raised their hands.  Peachy.  The vocab for the day was "printer" "mouse" "monitor" and "internet connection."  Talk about a lesson they could relate to.  In their defense, many of them do understand how to operate a computer; but when the internet connection is sketchy and the electricity goes out randomly in the middle of the day, it's hard to get the same level of technological exposure that I was used to at their age.

 

I was certain this lesson would be a flop.  But it actually turned into a barrel of laughs.  First, we made excuses for why we couldn't write emails to our friends. "My keyboard is broken." "We don't have an internet connection." Very applicable for these kids.  One student chimed in that he couldn't do his homework because "My cat ate my mouse!"  Haha!  How is it possible to be that clever in a foreign language?  These students are bright!

 

 We exhausted any more excuses then moved on to the reading: Online shopping.  Not even the local teacher knew what that meant. 

 

As I explained the joys of credit cards and ebay to my classroom, their eyes grew the size of half dollars.  One boy nearly jumped out of his seat, he was so excited.  "So, I can go to the online supermarket, click on my food and hit print, and the printer will spit out my apple? … It's like magic!"

 

Oh goodness!

 

I'm finding smiles in the strangest places!

Yep. It's Winter.

December 5, 2010

 

It snowed six inches in Friday.  Today I sat in my house in my wool tights and sweatpants, two wool shirts and my fleece jacket, and my nose still dripped the whole day.  I live in Southern Kazakhstan, so everyone tells me the winter will be mild.  I hate to see what's happening up North because I'm freezing down here in the "tropics."

Wednesday, December 1, 2010

Taxi!

November 29, 2010

 

Man, today I got ripped off by a taxi driver.  I HATE when that happens. 

 

Taxis are weird in Kazakhstan.  They aren't yellow or checkered.  They aren't registered with any companies.  Basically, if you want to BE a taxi driver, you just get a car and start driving around.    If you want a taxi RIDE, you go to the side of the road and stick out your hand at any passing car.  Basically, you hitchhike.  It sounds really bad, I know.  Before I left America, I was thinking, "Oh gosh, hitchhiking.  That's dangerous!"  But now that I'm here I realize it's really just the designated taxi drivers that stop.  Average Joe in his car will drive right past you. 

 

As for money, it's a pretty set rate for anywhere you want to go.  Everyone knows the rate and you just pay accordingly.  No questions asked.

 

After work today, I decided to go to the bazaar.  The taxi driver asked where I was from… because one look at me proves I'm not Kazakh and as soon as I open my mouth, they can guess I'm not Russian.  People are always kind to me, and I've never been taken on a price before.  But either this guy didn't have change or he was playing me a fool since I'm foreign.  I KNOW the taxi should have been 30 tenge, but the driver took my 50 tenge piece and didn't give me change. 

 

I should have demanded change, but some taxi drivers I like and some aren't worth the effort.  This guy was the latter.  I just gave him the money and left.  But now I feel cultural defeat.  Darn you taxi driver!

Happy Thanksgiving!!

November 25, 2010

 

Happy Thanksgiving Everyone! 

 

You know, there's nothing like being away for the holidays to remind you how much you really have.  This is my first major holiday away from home and I have been dreading it for months.  From now to about January 7th is a very special time in my home.  It is like a 45-day marathon of warm fuzzies. The thought of being anywhere but with my family made my eyes leak, my throat constrict, and my chest cavity feel a sudden void.

 

Here I am.  November 25th.  The marathon has just begun.  But I was wrong about that void.  I don't feel empty.  Corri called me yesterday and I don't know what was so great about the conversation, but it's just nice to talk to your big sister.  Today, Susan called bright and early.  She let me wake Lauren up on Thanksgiving morning and Lauren narrated the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade for me.  My Mom, Dad, and Kaye C called later and let me jump back and forth between them.  The warm fuzzy brigade is transcending countries, continents, and oceans.  So family, if you ever wondered how far your love stretches, I'm on the other side of the globe and I still feel ya!

"Toi" Time

November 24, 2010

 

Last night I went to a Kazakh wedding.  WOAH!  What a treat! I can't decide if this is a complete 180 of an American wedding, or if it's like an American wedding without the religious aspects but with some added cultural dances and lip-synching (so… like a reception).  Either way, this is not like any wedding I've seen before.

 

First of all, this particular "toi" was planned in about three days.  That's right, DAYS.  That's not standard, they usually take a couple months, but this one was on the fast track.  I got my invitation in the form of a phone call at 7:30PM, approximately two and a half hours before the event was to take place.  Of course I went!  (I was told Kazakh weddings usually start at 9 or 10PM because historically, Kazakh people had to take care of their animals all day.  By the time chores were done and everyone was clean, it was very late.)

 

I walked into the reception hall and found a seat at a table with my co-workers.  Each table was overflowing with food.  Breads, cheeses, meats, pastries, candies, salads, fruit.  They had everything!

 

The bride and groom sat at the head table, just like in America.  There was a dance floor in front of them and people would get up to toast the newlyweds, dancers would perform, or a professional lip-syncher would "sing."  The guests danced, but the bride and groom only shared one dance.  Most of the time, they sat at the head table and graciously received well wishes from their guests.  The bride wore a beautiful white dress (it looks similar to our wedding dresses, but with more ruffles and fur) and a traditional Kazakh headdress.  The groom was in a standard white Kazakh robe. 

 

In between the toasts and the dances, waiters brought out the main course… I had no idea where they would fit it, but Kazakhs are masters of arranging a dinner spread.  There were more toasts and dancing and then there was cake (and other sweets).

 

Basically, the whole night was eating and wedding toasts.  I did not witness any vows or prayers.  (Legal papers are signed earlier in the day, and there is some stuff that happens with the family, but that is a pretty small crowd.)  It was really interesting to watch because I feel like there is probably more going on than I realize, I just don't understand it yet.  Either way, I loved being a part of it all!

I feel BLAH!

November 19, 2010


Yesterday, the flu bug attacked me.  Funny, this was the first time in about fifteen years that I actually got the flu shot.  Being sick is bad enough, but the remedy here is eat, eat, eat.  Drink tea, drink tea, drink tea!  Kazakh food is tasty and teatime is growing on me.  But I'm sick. I'm not hungry and I certainly don't want greasy noodles or salami.  If anything, I just want plain food from home.

 

Today, I tried to go to the post office. Little did I know, the pension checks came in the mail.  There was a swarm of people at the door.  I attempted to wait in line but my body rebelled. I found a chair off to the side to wait out this corporal coup. It took over an hour.  Eventually, someone took pity on me and helped me mail my junk. 

 

By some miracle, I was able to walk back to my house before crashing.  Ugggh!  I need food.  I want American food!  Not even sick people food.  I want cottage cheese, smoothies, peanut butter and cereal. More than that, I just want to feel better.

 

Thursday, November 11, 2010

The Day I Became the Office Loser (a.k.a. Today)

November 10, 2010

 

My Peace Corps site assignment is to work with the Regional Education Department to conduct teacher trainings and improve English skills among educators. Sounds important, right? Well, this was my first day of work and I felt like I was in first grade again. 

 

I woke up, ate my Wheaties (hot milk with bread and butter), and grabbed my bag before heading down the street to flag down a ride.  On my way out the door, my (new) host mom handed me a sack with hard-boiled eggs, half a loaf of buttered bread, an apple, and candy.  To top it off, she gave me a one-liter thermos of hot tea so I'd have something warm to put in my stomach at lunchtime.  Yes!  The perfect Kazakh lunchbox!

 

I trekked to work, sat at my desk and worked diligently until one o'clock.  Everyone else started to pull out food.  They set up a little eating space in the middle of the room and invited me to join them.  Awesome!  I'm a cool first grader and I get to sit with the big kids!  I gladly trotted across the room with my thermos and lunch sack.  I cleared a little corner of the table and started to chow down.  They giggled… I guess "cool" was the wrong adjective. 

 

"Anne, whacha' doin'?"

 

I had no idea what the problem was.  This was a Kazakh original meal.  I even had HOT TEA for goodness sake!

 

Eventually, it came out that one person brings food for everyone.  You don't eat your own food.  Oops.  How was I supposed to know that?  My sack and thermos were swept away to a distant table and I was handed a fork and plate.  In the future, I must bring food for everyone or not bring food at all.

 

Tomorrow, I will leave the beloved thermos at home with my pull-ups.  On second thought, I may need those pull-ups.  I have much to learn and it turns out I'm not really at "Big Girl" status, yet.

Business in the front…

November 2, 2010

 

So… it's been nearly five months since I got a haircut.  This mop of mine is getting long and a bit unruly. I've got tons of split-ends.  But tonight, a stroke of genius came over me. For some strange reason, I thought I was skilled enough to cut my own hair.  I should never be allowed to do that again. I get impatient with the whole making sure it's even thing, so I just guesstimate.  Plus I only have one and a half mirrors here.  I can't be sure of the end result, but I think I just gave myself a mullet.  That's in style, right?!

Business in the front...

November 2, 2010

 

So… it's been nearly five months since I got a haircut.  This mop of mine is getting long and a bit unruly. I've got tons of split-ends.  But tonight, a stroke of genius came over me. For some strange reason, I thought I was skilled enough to cut my own hair.  I should never be allowed to do that again. I get impatient with the whole making sure it's even thing, so I just guesstimate.  Plus I only have one and a half mirrors here.  I can't be sure of the end result, but I think I just gave myself a mullet.  That's in style, right?!

A Great Reason to Learn Kazakh

November 1, 2010

 

In Peace Corps Kazakhstan, there are two language options: Kazakh or Russian. Both are widely spoken here.  There is kind of a divide between the two.  Some people are proud Russian speakers.  Some are proud Kazakh speakers.  I am learning Kazakh.

 

 Last Saturday, I went to the bazaar to buy some winter boots.  My Kazakh is pretty horrible, but my Russian is far worse… I vaguely know how to count to ten in Russian.  Anyway, I found a pair of boots I liked and I approached the saleswoman.  She was a 5'1" woman probably in her seventies.  The conversation went a little something like this:

 

(The following text is a translation)

 

Anne: Excuse me, how much do these boots cost?

Woman: (Unknown Russian words… probably the cost.)

Anne: I'm so sorry, I don't speak Russian.  Could you tell me in Kazakh?

Woman: You speak Kazakh?!

Anne: My Kazakh is very bad, but I speak better Kazakh than Russian.

Woman: Where are you from?  England?

Anne: America.

Woman: You are from America and you speak KAZAKH?!  (She gives me a big hug.)  Come in.  Because you speak Kazakh I will cut the price…

 

I was probably in her bazaar stall for 20 minutes.  She brought me lots of boots and told me what was good and what wasn't.  She kept giving me big hugs and was so thrilled that I spoke her language.  She brought out cookies and gave me wool shoe inserts for free to keep my feet extra warm.  All this just because I knew a few basic words in Kazakh. 

 

Before I came to Kazakhstan, I was really torn about what language to learn.  Russian is more widely spoken worldwide, but I am in KAZAKHstan.  I chose Kazakh and moments like the one at the bazaar assure me I made the right choice!

Sunday, October 24, 2010

Doing Dishes

October 16, 2010

I wanted to tell you about doing dishes in Kazakhstan. I tried three
different times to write what it means to me and each time I had a
different answer. Culturally, it means nothing (except that young
women usually do the dishes). But to me, doing the dishes means
everything.

First of all, I am pretty useless here. I can't cook my own meals
because I don't know what to do when they give me a whole chicken at
the market. I don't know how to heat the moncha for my weekly bucket
bath. And I can't speak the language. So every day, someone puts
food on my table. They heat the moncha for me and humor me while I
make useless attempts at communication. Someone is holding my hand
every step of the way and I hardly have the words to thank them.
However, I can do a mean dish-washing. So every evening, the family
gets to rest while I collect the flatware and roll up my sleeves.
After all they do for me, it's nice to know I can still grab a sponge
and start scrubbing.

Since this is the only thing I can really do around the house, I have
to laugh. I flew across eleven time zones so I could basically be
useless outside of my job. But now I have two very special jobs. I
am a "hired" volunteer and I came to 1. Teach English and 2. Wash
Dishes. To me, that's funny. I promise I am a reasonably functional
individual at home. I know how to survive. Here, I'm not sure I'd
make it without some chalk or a dishrag.

Lastly, doing dishes has meant friendship. My host family seems to
like me and I have very little idea why. I can't talk to them. I just
smile, play charades, and make faces at their kids. I think they know
I'm a decent person. But they don't actually know me. Therefore, I
attribute any affection to the fact that I wash their dishes. (It does
build character, so I should have plenty of that by now!)

When I was in college, I adopted a Vietnamese proverb that says you
should "do the dishes to do the dishes," I guess it is kinda like the
English, "living in the moment," except that there is an understanding
that every moment is not going to be an exotic adventure. Do what you
must and appreciate that you're able to do that much. When you do the
dishes, don't do them to get them done. Enjoy the rhythm of your
task.

That proverb has taken on a new meaning for me in Kazakhstan. Dishes
may be a chore, and I will enjoy their rhythm. However, that chore is
a universal sign for "thank you" and such a simple act has brought me
friendship through an otherwise broken dialogue.

May God bless dirty dishes!

Thursday, September 30, 2010

Internet, Kaida? (Internet, Where?)

September 23, 2010

Wow! Five weeks and still no internet… I can't believe it! In case
anyone is wondering, yes, it is possible to go this long without the
loverly internet machine… just extremely difficult. I don't miss the
whole facebook addiction, or checking my email three times a day.
Actually, it's kinda nice that I don't have to worry about missing
some really important memo from a professor or a boss because minimal
contact is par for the course here. But I do miss that communication
with my friends at home. I miss hearing about the little things in
their lives, how crazy parking can be or about that weird professor
who refuses to button his shirt all the way. I have no idea what is
going on at home. It's tough.

I think I remember one of my history books talking about this thing
called snail mail from the 20th Century. Maybe I will try to
rediscover the art of penmanship. That or smoke signals.

How Cold Are We Talking?

September 17, 2010

It's Mid-September and Kazakhstan is getting colder. I wish I could
tell you what "colder" means, but my village doesn't have a bank that
flashes the time and temperature on a sign out front. Now that I
think of it, my village doesn't even have a bank. We have two
schools, a post office, a make-shift first aid clinic, two mosques,
and a couple corner stores. It sounds like a lot… but that's a total
inventory of my village. Throw in a couple houses and some stray dogs
and you've got it!

Anyway, this cold-factor has really put a damper on my shower
situation! Once a week, my host family heats up the "moncha" (shower
room) and we can take bucket-baths with hot water. However, to get to
my "shower" I have to trek across the yard and down a little hill. It
really hasn't been a problem so far. But tonight I took a wonderfully
relaxing "shower," only to step out into the chill of the evening.
It's September. Probably too soon to start worrying about being cold…
but as people pull out there winter jackets and fur caps, I do get a
little nervous about what's in store for me and how in the heck I'm
going to make that hike back from the shower when it gets to -20 in a
few months.

The Milk Mission

September 6, 2010

Three weeks ago, I did not know a single Kazakh word. Today, I am a
talking machine. However, I only know about fifty words, so I repeat
them over and over again. "Hello!" "How are you?" "My name is Anne!"
"Hello!"

These phrases are great, but on occasion, I need to use more words
than just, "I am an American, from Missouri." Then I'm up a creek.
That was the case last Friday.

My host mom asked me to go to the corner store for some milk. I walked
into the shop with a big smile on my face, glad to have a mission. As
I looked around, the smile faded. Where was the milk?

The shop-owner asked if I needed help. Umm, yes. I searched my
vocabulary. "I am a Peace Corps Volunteer…" "I have a little sister…"
"I like to run…" Somehow, none of those were gonna get me the milk.
Then I had an ah-ha moment.

"CYbIK, Kaida?" I blurted out.

He looked at me quizzically and showed me to a refrigerator of sodas.
Oops. Wrong word. I did some quick brainstorming and came up
empty-handed, but I still needed to find the milk. That was my
special mission.

I put my fingers up to my head to symbolize horns and I said, "Moooo."
Then I pantomimed milking a cow. The storekeeper bent over laughing.
"CYT! Moo!" He said between laughs. He repeated my gestures to his
fellow shopkeeper, then to everyone else in the store. There were
laughs all around.

I left a few minutes later, milk in hand. Mission Accomplished
(though unorthodoxly!)

When you barely know more than an infant, you use any tools you have…
including making a fool of youself!

In the end, my host mom got her milk, everyone got a good laugh, and I
made a new friend.

Thank goodness I grew up in a charades-playing family!

Blue Jeans= Blue Hands

August 28, 2010

So, I did laundry for the first time since leaving the US… now I know
how spoiled I have been my whole life. Not only did my mom do my
laundry for me until college, but once I was in college, I still had
the luxury of a washing machine. Not anymore.

My host mom took me out by the chicken coop and showed me how to fill
a bucket with hot water and another with rainwater. She went back to
the porch. I started scrubbing. She started laughing. To say the
least, it may take a few weeks before I'm an expert.

This hand washing business takes a lot more personal time, but I
really got to know my clothes better. For instance, I've had this
pair of Houston jeans for about a year. I love them. They are dark
blue and fit just right. They've gone through the wash dozens of times
and never caused any problems. Well, I guess they're more sensitive
than I realized. When I put them in my soapy bucket, suddenly the
liquid looked like the water traps at a putt putt course. You know
the kind: super-fake blue. I ignored it and kept scrubbing. The
jeans bled blue and shortly thereafter, I turned into a smurf. My
favorite jeans. I thought I knew every inch of them. But apparently,
they were hiding a large vat of ink in the seams.

Note to self: next time, save jeans for the end of the wash… they
make the water (and yourself) unbearably blue.

The Dining Ordeal

Hey All! I just found internet for the first time 6 weeks!! I'm gonna
try to put up posts that I wrote weeks ago, but I can't actually
access blogspot, so hopefully this works... if not, email me. Also,
tell me if the format posts weird! Raxmet! ("Thank you" in Kazakh!)

August 25, 2010

Mom, you would be so proud of my manners. When I sit down to eat
dinner, I keep my elbows off the table and hands in my lap. And I
never use that boarder-house reach you warned me about. The only
problem is that doesn't fly in my neck of the woods!

As it turns out, it is common courtesy in K-stan to keep both hands on
the table while eating. It means you aren't hiding anything from your
companions. The elbows sneak up to keep those hands company. And
that proper American table setting it took me nearly a decade to learn
has been thrown out the window. Everyone eats from common bowls and
dishes, so plates aren't necessary, just spoons and forks. Actually,
it is kinda cool. There are way fewer dishes and you only eat what
you want. Less food waste. Good thinking!

When I got to Kazakhstan, I knew to expect some differences in the
cuisine, but I had no idea how all-encompassing the experience would
be. My first two nights here, dinner was a three-hour eating
marathon. Had I known in advance, I would have started training
months ago! Teatime, appetizers, soups, rice and pastas, followed by
more desserts. You think you are done when your host mother dismisses
you to your bedroom. But twenty minutes later your host brother shows
up at the door with his broken English saying: "Come. Eat meat."
Then it's meat with pasta, meat in soup, meat alone. Horse meat, cow
meat, some meat you don't even want to know about. And to wash it
down? Camel milk. (Think soured yogurt.) Then, maybe you can retire
for the night, but most likely, you will have dessert again.

Seeing twenty-five people gather around the table to eat, laugh, and
"do life" together is a remarkable experience. You crowd together,
leaning closer on the table and reaching over one another to scoop out
one more spoonful of homemade raspberry jam. Kids are wiggling in and
out, and tea is being passed down the assembly line. Even an
outsider, who doesn't know a lick of Kazakh, suddenly feels welcome
because this place has some strong reminders of home!

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

Ten Time Zones to Go!

Do you know how heavy 100 pounds is?  Well, let me tell you, that's A LOT of luggage.  It certainly looked fine when it was sitting in my bedroom.  But as I trapezed through the airport I started having second thoughts.  Foolish Anne, when will I learn?!

 

I made it safely to DC and this afternoon 74 trainees will board the plane for Kazakhstan.  I guess it is good to travel with so many people who are in the same situation as me, but every one of these flights is heart wrenching. I cried… scratch that… I sobbed yesterday when I left my family.  Today I'll probably do it again when I call home right before leaving the US.  

 

I'm excited about where I'm going, but I wish Kazakhstan would have wedged itself right between Mexico and Belize rather than staking claim on that spot of land by Russia and China.

Friday, August 6, 2010

This is it!


After two years of planning, eleven months of applications, and a lifetime supply of medical records, I am getting ready to start my journey as a Peace Corps Volunteer.

Destination: Kazakhstan
Job Title: High School English Teacher
Language: Choosing between Russian and Kazakh, but I can tell you this: That Spanish I studied in college probably won’t help much! J

I feel like George Hibbert in the movie, Saint Ralph.  At one point, Hibbert asks the priest, “Did you ever not know and still jump?”

In planning for the Peace Corps, I have read gobs of articles, talked to countless volunteers, and made one packing list after another.  It seems like I’ve been preparing for this since the birth of Methuselah. (Okay, maybe not that long.)  But now that it’s time, I’m not sure I am ready. All the textbooks in the world can’t prepare me for the challenges I’ll face.  Just like George Hibbert, I don’t know what’s in store for me.

What I do know is that I have one phenomenal family.  I have extraordinary friends.  I have a community that has been more supportive than I ever could have dreamed possible.  And I have my faith.  No matter what, I know I am surrounded by love and I can’t ask for anything better than that.

I don’t know what will happen in this next chapter… but I’m still going to jump in. 

And you know what?  I have a pretty good feeling about this!  Kazakhstan, I look forward to meeting you!