When the Inspector Came to Call

This drawer represents the latest in bill organizing technology in the Aubre, Heather, and Valerie household. The system, for all its complexity, has a surprisingly user-friendly interface - we simply put the latest bills somewhere vaguely on top, in whatever jumbled order the bills come. It could not be said that we prioritize keeping records of what bills we do or do not receive. Our system is proudly inter-utility in its outlook: bills lie mingled for such sundry items as gas, electricity, hot water, cold water, trash, hot water and heating, and other miscellaneous services (we do not necessarily know exactly what every bill is for: ours not to question, but simply to pay).

This has not been a problem until last night, when an inspector came to call. He was wearing a trenchcoat and bowler hat, or would have been were we in an English murder mystery. As it was, he was wearing a windbreaker (he probably drives on his rounds - it's been balmy, but not that balmy) and holding a clipboard with (Russian) writing on it. Aubre and Heather called me for Russian assistance upon opening the door to him. Now, in order to fully appreciate this story, you have to know that a situation in which I am called upon as the most able Russian speaker is bound to end in tragi-comedy.

This, I believe, is what happened as the inspector would relate it later that night to his befuddled and much-amused wife:

"So, I rang this doorbell and these girls opened it. I worked out that they were foreigners from their gobsmacked looks as I explained that I was going to turn off their power as they had not paid their bills. They called a third girl, who asked me if I was here about the gas bill, despite the fact that I had clearly stated to the other two girls that I was here about their electricity bill. I somehow managed to get it into her thick head that I was here because they hadn't paid their bill, but she kept asking if they could pay it now. [Interjection from aforementioned girl: I still don't know why we weren't able to just pay him then. We were perfectly willing to.]

I asked her to show me their last electricity bill, at which point she disappeared into the living room, to re-emerge in a while with a fistful of bills that she thrust at me to sort through. She did look somewhat apologetic at this stage. None of the ten bills she gave me was for electricity, and I told her so. I pointed out that electricity bills have colourful backs, at which point her face lit up - finally, something she could understand - and she proudly presented me with a bill with a coloured back. This was the October bill, however, and I pointed out that the bill they hadn't paid was the November one. She stared aghast at me and stammered, "We didn't, we didn't" [Interjection: I couldn't at that moment remember the Russian word for "receive". Of course, I remembered it two minutes after the inspector left. That is generally the way of things with my Russian.]

Anyway, at this point, I asked to talk to their houseowner, whereupon their faces registered panic and they rummaged feverishly through a pile of papers underneath their phone before lighting on a small scrap of paper on which was written their landlord's number. [Interjection: We hope it was his number. There wasn't exactly a name on the piece of paper. Like I said, we're organized.] They tried calling him, but he clearly did not pick up. The third girl felt the need to convey this to me after the abortive phone call by repeating, "House owner, he's not, he's not" [Interjection: I couldn't remember the Russian words for "picking up his phone". Later, of course, the bright thought occurred to me that I could have said 'answering', a verb that I know.]. Whereupon I gave up on trying to communicate with them and left them my number, telling them to tell their house owner to call me. Foreigners!!"

At this point in the story, no doubt his five year old son would be poking around in his plov and proudly thinking, "Even I would have communicated better than those girls..."

As a result of this incident, we have decided that we need a new bill organization system in which the bills are actually, well, organized. We'll get around to it sometime.

Twin Day

We had Twin Day at school this week. My housemate Aubre and I went as eighties college students. We bought the cardigans secondhand, happened to find the silvery disco-esque headbands at a random little magazin (shop), and made up the rest from our household's combined wardrobes. To achieve the hair effect, I had to sacrifice sleep the night before on the altar of tons of little braids in my hair and endure my hair being teased and hair-sprayed to a large and in-your-face death in the morning.

The kids were flabbergasted. Jawdropped. Bamboozled.

One six year old girl whom I love dearly misunderstood my explanation of what I was, and later in the day, amused me muchly by announcing to someone else that she knew what I was: I was eighty. (I did clarify with her that eighty year olds do not generally look like that, and that I had been talking about a time period long before she first graced the earth. I didn't say 'graced the earth', of course; I said 'born'. I think she kind of got it by the end.)

Circus shenanigans

I went to a circus here recently, which was a tremendously entertaining experience. From the first moment of walking into a big top that smells of animal poo and sounds like the excitement of little kids, the circus delighted me. Well, the poo smell didn't, but at least it smelled...authentic. I loved the acrobats, obediently gawked at the strong man, was appropriately scandalized by the scantily-clad dancers, and had a fun night in all.

American Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving is a really big deal for Americans, even in a country where turkey costs something to the tune of $40 per kg (okay, I might be exaggerating; suffice it to say that it's not cheap). I was privileged to partake in a sumptuous Thanksgiving feast (sumptuous is almost a redundant adjective - Thanksgiving dinners by definition are lavish, one might even say, over the top: my cup runneth over-style). Our meats were chicken and ham rather than turkey, but we all ate to our hearts' content and thanked God that we weren't pilgrims rejoicing to have survived - we rejoice to be thriving. I am richly blessed indeed.

Winter 2010 has arrived

Winter has officially arrived. Our first big snow last Friday has cloaked Bishkek until today, though most roads and pavements have now been cleared by the balmy sunshine of the past two days. Before that, though, I was surrounded by a veritable winter wonderland of white glory. (And also a treacherous terrain of ice. I don't mean to be sacrilegious, but the thought occurred to me that hell could well be paved with ice. Slippery, destructive, deceptive, etc.)

Soaked Sponges pack a punch

This is me after a soaked sponge got me right in the eye: all part of a fundraising initiative by our student council. Students suffering from Shakespeare were my primary attackers, and some of them can throw hard! All the secondary teachers subjected ourselves to this treatment, in the name of a good cause.

Elections

We have elections coming up in a few days, and everyone is in a tizzy about them. Political parties that we have never heard of have in the last few weeks sprung into sudden action, and there are posters, rallies, and advertisements on taxis all over Bishkek. Apparently there are over twenty political parties running in these elections, a great number of which are but a few months old. We are all hoping for peaceful and just elections, and that the new government will have the collective good rather than material goods in their eyes.

The Rubbish Revolution

Okay, maybe this is over-stating it. But I was excited recently to discover new, professional, grey bins lining the street just outside my apartment. Unfortunately, the line of dustbins stops at the end of the block, so they are clearly not a government initiative, but rather one funded by the institution whose fence runs the length of aforementioned block. Who knows, though? Maybe this is a start of a rubbish bin revolution: soon they will line every street of Bishkek. Well, one can only hope.

Kyrgyz Independence Day

Last Tuesday was Kyrgyz Independence Day. It was a national holiday and a hot day, so there were hordes of excited children playing in the fountains near the central square. Notice the contrast of the recently festively festooned building with the burnt out shell behind it - a remnant of April's turmoil.

My walk to school

Some mornings are smoggy, some mornings are foggy.
Some mornings are cloudy, some mornings I'm drowsy.

But on other mornings, this is the view I get to enjoy on my way to school.

My reading nook

I have dreamed of having a reading nook in my classroom for years, and finally, this year, I was able to make it happen! When we read novels in class, students love sitting in this nook, but to date, alas, my vision of students curling up with a good book at lunchtime or after school has not come to fruition. Instead, I've had students curling up for a nap. Oh well: at least the nook's being appreciated!

Beshbarmak

Beshbarmak means five fingers, and it's a Kyrgyz dish (traditionally eaten with five fingers, hence the name). It comes in many forms, depending on where you eat it. At this restaurant, it came in a bowl with noodles, soup, beef pieces...and five huge pieces of congealed fat. (Yes, all that yellow is fat.)

Beautifying drab buildings

Three ways to beautify a drab building:

1. Sunlight.
2. Leaves.
3. Someone's colourful washing.

Kyrgyz madonna

There is a certain patience and resignation in this Kyrgyz mother's face that reminds me of Mary, who said, "Be it unto me according to your word", knowing faintly what suffering that would entail.

Waste not, want not

I think village dwellers often have to be more resourceful than city dwellers. And certainly, some Kyrgyz city dwellers have picked up the more wasteful aspects of materialist Western culture. In the villages which I've visited, however, waste is sacrilege. Nothing is wasted. If an animal is killed, every part of it is either eaten or used in some other way. While a horse lives, it is used for work (including the work of tourism - allowing ignorant but grateful foreigners to go for horse rides). Even its 'waste matter' is not wasted: dry dung, it turns out, burns nicely.

Another use for sheep

Sheep are useful sources not just of metaphors and similes, but also of wool. The Kyrgyz art of felt-making quite naturally developed from their nomadic, shepherd roots. I had the privilege of witnessing this man making tapachki (slippers) from scratch, well, from wool, anyway. Wool, soap, water, a bit of dye, and a lot of rubbing, and hey presto, you have felt slippers! The lady, Svetka, is spinning wool to make yarn with which to sew bags.

All we like sheep...

The Warp and Woof of Kyrgyz Rural Life

I thought I'd post some pictures of Kyrgyz rural life for those of you who haven't had the chance to hear from me in person. I've had a few opportunities to visit rural Kyrgyzstan and I've enjoyed the hospitality that Kyrgyz villagers have shown me. This picture is of shyrdaks (Kyrgyz rugs) being hung out to dry. The embroidery on these shyrdaks is often mindbogglingly intricate: every one of them represents days of work by a Kyrgyz woman, often in the company of other women. Shyrdaks are, in a literal and metaphorical sense, part of the fabric of Kyrgyz village life.

Spring in Kyrgyzstan

Spring is my favourite season in Kyrgyzstan. Everything turns so green and lovely, and the hills and grass and trees bring me great joy. Especially coming after winter, spring brings with it delight. Among other things, I love the thought that I have 8 months or so before I need to worry about slipping on ice. I really hate ice. If you ask me what I hate the most about Kyrgyzstan, ice is probably number one, followed by dirt and potholes. If you ask me what I love, besides people, I think the mountains and in general the countryside in spring would be number one.

Murder Mystery Night

Introducing Jacquelyn Justice, the wife of Senator Justice of Nevada. The high schoolers here had a murder mystery night recently, which I was privileged to be a part of. It was a lot of fun, and not only did I correctly guess the murderer (by fluke), I was also awarded the best acting award for my portrayal of a posh, snooty senator's wife. Notice the bling I'm wearing: borrowed from a middle school girl! =p Senator Justice conducted himself well, though it was a pity about the beanie he insisted on wearing.

Korean Hip Hop

This photo is of me and a student who had spiked his hair quite impressively for a Korean hip hop performance during the intermission of our school musical. He was also a member of the stage crew, so it was very amusing seeing that hair silhouetted during the second half of the musical.

On the ski slopes

Skiing and snowboarding are much cheaper here than they would be in Australia and the kids love these winter pursuits, so I've hit the slopes a couple of times in the interests of bonding. I enjoy it but would be loathe to spend money on it just for its own sake. Photos are of me on a chair lift, the mountains (a big plus, actually - beautiful!) and some kids and me. We were supposed to be doing a Russian style photo, all serious faces and no smiles. As you can see, a couple of the boys failed to keep straight faces. =p

You've heard of wedding cars...

...but have you ever seen a wedding bus?

Winter playground

Imagine sliding down onto that sheet of ice...

Winter road

We've been having a fair bit of snow lately, which has cloaked everything with a beautiful white. On the other hand, yesterday's high was -8 degrees Celsius, and the snow eventually packs down or thaws and refreezes into ice, as this treacherous road demonstrates. (On the temperature note, friends I was with yesterday said 'It's not below zero degrees', by which they meant that it was not below zero degrees in Fahrenheit - it was about -12 degrees Celsius!)

Winter in Bishkek

I realise I haven't posted for a while. Oops. Well, here are some pictures of a Bishkek winter. This first one looks like Santa Claus, but is actually Father Frost. It was in a Narodni (a supermarket chain) here, and I managed to take it before a worker reprimanded me. Apparently photos are not allowed in Narodni stores - I'm not sure why.