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!
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