This is Turkmenistan?

Hello hello!

 

I posted new pictures today!  Link below!  Hooray!!!

 

Okay, brace yourselves.  This will be my last email for an indefinite period of time.  Please, please, hold back your tears.  I'll be back before you know it.  Here's the deal:  tomorrow at 5:30 am I am getting into a mini-van and 5 of us are heading east to Lebap.  The van will be packed because although we only came with 100 pounds of luggage, the amount of stuff we have has grown exponentially in the two short months we've been here.  Sigh.  Can't get away from stuff. 

 

So we've been in the city since Thursday.  I have been in awe of the fact that in my hotel room, there is a toilet not 15 feet from my bed!  Indoors!  Ah, it's heaven.  Paradise.  Pure happiness.  I will miss that.  And running water.  And hot showers.  But, enough. Small sacrifices.  I get to come home eventuall, after all. 

 

Thursday evening, we went out to dinner at a place called "City Pub."  This restaurant has soccer paraphernalia all over the walls.  They played English language music.  I had pizza -- it was so-so, but it was pizza.  Afterwards, we went to the "Zip bar."  Had a beer and smoked a hookah with several other people.  Then, we decided to go to a disco.  I didn't even know Ashgabat had discos, but it makes sense.  The Russian population here is pretty western and they have just as much desire as anyone to get their grooves on.  It was deserted when we got there around 10:30.  And, the DJ wasn't there so the music wasn't very danceable.  Around 11:00 more people came, the DJ came, and the music got better.  They played Kanye West (for those of you who know who that is) and I jumped onto the dance floor to shake my booty.  It was a lot of fun.  Then the turned on the green strobe light which was fun at first but a bit dizzying after while.  The fun thing about this disco was that, other than the Americans, the other patrons were Turkmen men and prostitutes.  They were scantily clad and danced mostly with themselves or with potential clients.  Prostitution is not uncommon in the city.  And I hear they don't make a lot of money which is unfortunate.  I mean, if you're gonna sell your stuff, at least make some bank.  IMHO. 

 

What was cool about the whole evening was how un-Turkmenistan it was.  We really could have been anywhere -- we could have been home.  It was a very "normal" night out.  It was also a lot of fun :) 

 

Yesterday, we woke up, gussied up, and headed to our swearing in ceremony.  Our host families, counter parts, Turkmen government officials and US Embassy folks were all invited and present.  Our CD spoke, a representative from the Turkmen Edu. Ministry spoke, and the Ambassador spoke.  He administered our oaths to us and presented us with our certificates stating that we are now all official Peace Corps Volunteers.  The oath said that we would do our best to protect the constitution of the US while here and things like that.  Not very Peace Corps if you ask me, but I have a feeling all government employees take this oath (or something similar).  Even though we're not "technically" gov't employees. 

 

After the ceremony we had more information sessions at Peace Corps.  We got our first month's salary and settling in allowance.  I got 4.16 million manat which is about $250 dollars.  Not too shabby.  I've never had a million of anything before, so that's pretty cool.  But it doesn't go very far, unfortunately. 

 

For dinner last night, a HUGE group of us went to a Karaoke bar (again -- Turkmenistan?).  It was a fiasco really  -- too many people for the kitchen to handle and well-intentioned people trying to make life easier by limiting our orders but ultimately being obnoxious by limiting what I could order. Grr.  The evening was saved by singing Bon Jovi's "Living on a Prayer."  Bon Jovi makes everything better. 

 

Today our CD had us over to his apartment for breakfast.  His apartment building is beautiful inside and out.  It was so crazy to see his house -- it was so American!  A sofa!  Hardwood floors!  A flat screen TV! Oh, and he and his wife have a gorgeous kitchen.  The plumbing is still weak -- can't flush paper-- but still, he has a very comfortable living situation.  And, because we won't be in the city for Christmas, he had a Christmas tree for us.  My training group and I took a picture in front of the tree -- I haven't uploaded them yet but I will as soon as I can.  It's great -- we look like a happy group of siblings :)  But you may not see it until January :)

 

After brunch, I went shopping!  I spent 740,00 manat.  Ugh.  I bought soap, a trash pail, cooking supplies, a bread pan, a water pitcher, a plate (for monitoring how much I eat), a plastic mug, shoe polish, shout for stain removal, fabric softener (this was a mistake: I meant to buy liquid laundry detergent but it was in foreign languages I don't know...), soap, soap dish, a cup, candles, more minutes for my cell phone...

 

It adds up quickly.  I headed back to the office by bus, dropped my stuff off, and went shopping again!  I bought olive oil :)  This makes me very happy.

 

So, it's been a busy day.  A busy few days. 

 

We have a friend who had to go to Thailand for medical reasons -- she got a rectal infection of all things and needed minor surgery.  She's back but still not 100%.  Anyhow, she had a great time in Thailand despite being in pain and in the hospital for a week.  She met PCVs from Thailand and she says that they all have internet and indoor plumbing in their homes.  Ah, well...  Indoor plumbing is for weenies.  Real PCVs squat :)

 

I've posted several more pictures today, so look at those when you get a chance :)  Here's the link again in case you need it: 

http://www.flickr.com/gp/11696456@N08/8Dt169

 

 

Also, I gave you all my address in Lebap.  I've talked to several PCVs there and it sounds like the post office in T-bat is just as reliable as Ashgabat's, so you can send your letters there, too.  Here it is again, just in case:

 

US Peace Corps Turkmenistan                  Türkmenistan

P.O. Box 46                                                    Lebap Welayaty

Central Post Office                                      Türkmenabat – 22, 746100

Turkmenabat – 22, 746100                         Merkezi poςta, abonent 46

Lebap Welayat                                            Korpus Mira

Türkmenistan                                               JESSICA HOOVER                            

JESSICA HOOVER                                      TÜRKMENISTAN        

TURKMENISTAN

 

 

This address is slightly different from the one I gave you before.  In Turkmen, write "Korpus Mira" instead of "Parahatcylyk Korpusy."  Korpus Mira is Russian and is the name the postal workers know Peace Corps as. 

 

I'm sure I had more I wanted to tell you -- I know I mentioned a cultural discussion last email, but we'll leave that for another time.  I hope you're all doing well.  Only 19 more days until Christmas!  Happy Holidays!!  Feliz Navidad!! 

 

Love and hugs,

Jess

 

P.S. My Country Director reads Junot Diaz.  If you know who that is, you won't be surprised know that I freaked out when I saw the books on the bookshelf and had to tell him that I read Junot, too :)

 

P.P.S.  There is a dusting of snow on the mountain tops now.  It's beautiful :)

Thanksgiving in turkmanistan and the Incredible Spontaneously Cumbusting Apple Pie

Loved ones,

 

These two items are, in fact, unrelated.   I appreciated all the Happy Thanksgiving wishes.  What's Thanksgiving like in T-stan?  Well, kind of a blip, really.  It's not a holiday celebrated here.  Some groups took it upon themselves to cook a "real" Thanksgiving dinner.   We just kind of let it go – there are only 4 of us and one is a vegetarian.  Not thatTurkey is a total necessity but it just seemed like a lot to take on.  We were going to mooch off of some volunteers hosting T-giving dinner for themselves at the office, but most of them are about to leave the country  and we don't know them very well, so we didn't crash their party because of anticipated feelings of awkwardness.  (We did happen to be in the office during their festivities and they brought us a plate of food:  real salad, turkey, stuffing w/gravy, sweet potatoes!  oh, it was heaven!  I ate a ton, my second lunch that day.  Worth every calorie).   On Thursday we each taught in the morning.  Went to lunch where we had our cook's version of pizza.  We'd gotten a can of cranberry sauce from PC the day before so we had that, too.  Only we didn't have a real can opener.  So we got this ghetto one from the cook and she tried to open the can from the wrong end.  In the end, we managed to get a bit pulled back but the thing looked like a case of tetanus waiting to happen.  We also had gummy bears, courtesy of my loving daddy J 

 

And…. yes, I made a pumpkin pie!  It was alright; probably could have cooked the pumpkin a bit more. But even Summer ate some, and she says she never eats pumpkin pie.  I have pictures; I'll try to post them. 

           

On Saturday we took the day off and went to the city.  We went to a shopping center called "Yimpash" (the 'y' is silent) which was incredible.  It was like a department store and a grocery store all in one.  Three floors – food court on the third floor.  We had cheeseburgers and sodas for lunch and then the 5 of us shared a banana split.  Heavenly.  After eating, we shopped and I dropped 111,000 manat on baking supplies: butter, powdered sugar, corn starch, whipped topping mix, baking powder.  It was amazing.  It was a little slice of Western decadence right in Ashgabat and it was as comforting as a mother's love.  I'm sighing a little sigh of happiness now. 

 

 Arms laden with cooking supplies, I left Impash with the ladies and we headed to a salon to have our eyebrows done. Rather than wax, threading is the common method of hair removal here.  Basically, the lady twists a piece of thread together, holds on end in her mouth and the other in her hand, and runs the twist along the hair.  Somehow it gets pulled out.  I'm not exactly sure how it works because my eyes were closed and I was trying hard not to flinch the whole time, but she did a good job.  For 30,000 manat ( a little over $2 ) I am a new woman.  Or, at least one with shaped eyebrows.

 

From the salon, it was off to Peace Corps.  Briefly checked mail, ate tons of food as I mentioned, and then with happy hearts we headed home.  On the way back, I stopped at a bazaar to buy 4 kilos of apples for my apple pies. 

 

THE APPLE PIE

Can't get much more American than that, right?  So, we're discussing pie last week at home and I am telling my host sister about the different pies I can make.  She was particularly intrigued by apple pie so I told her that rather than go to the city, I would stay home on Sunday and teach her how to make it.  I bought all the requisite ingredients.  My friend's were trembling with the thought of eating fresh baked apple pie.  Mmm… I even have cinnamon!  And nutmeg! (also thanks to my dear father)  Amazing!

 

This will awkwardly tie together eventually:

 

Sunday rolls around and I need to do some laundry.  And by some I mean probably a load and a half/two loads worth in a washing machine.  But, I can't get into the banya to do my washing because it's occupied the whole morning.  So, resigned to waiting, I sit and begin to read an American newsweekly.  My host sister comes in and says we're leaving to her aunt's house.  It's nearly 11:00 and I'm moderately upset because I want to do my laundry!  But I trudge along because that's what a good anthropologist would do.  Sit with a bunch of young girls around a plastic table cloth laid on the floor.  Admire the celing – exposed wood beams!  How log cabin quaint!  How familiar! Eat fried bread.  And more fried bread.  And tons of pickled veggies.  Every time I try to stop eating, someone sees and says, "Jess, eat! Eat!"  Damn those Turkmen and their incessant hospitality.  I'm gaining weight here!  Argh!  Anyhow:  then lunch comes out.  Steaming, hot bowls of… goat soup!  My favorite!  Luckily, my host sister explains that I don't eat goat and I'm spared the discomfort of having to sip at the goaty broth.  And really, the "soup" was goat broth and goat.  Not just meat, but tongue, cheek, gross, squishy white chunks of either fat or brain (or both).  So I gorged on pickled veggies and it was good.  Don't get enough veggies anyhow.  And I'm satisfied that this family, with whom I will be living only another 3 days, understands that I do not like goat. 

 

We head home and I do my barge load of laundry.  I can definitely forsee developing carpal tunnel because after 2 hours of washing and wringing, I was in pain.  I need a wrist brace for that kind of manual labor.  Laundry hung, it's time for pie.

 

As a baker, I am very attached to my measuring cups.  Cooking without measuring scares me.  Out of necessity, I cooked for myself all last winter, and I must say, I made great strides in "winging it".  Nonetheless, for this pie I had to measure three cups of flour with a tea cup and it made me slightly anxious.  But then I thought that the home bakers of yesteryear probably did without measuring, so maybe I could to.  My host sister and I each made a pie.  It was hard to describe to her how exactly to make pie crust – she's used to making dough for bread and at one point, started kneading her dough!  Big no-no in pie crust making!  She ended up not using enough liquid but whatever.  It worked. My crust turned out beautifully much to my surpise – no measuring and no food processer.   My dad would be proud: he cuts his butter into the dough with his hands and now I can to.  I'm quite pleased, actually. 

 

Things are going swimmingly.  The random fly is buzzing around, landing on my arm, my face, my head,  as wantonly as though I were a dead puppy [there is, by the by, a dead puppy in the no man's land outside our town, decaying in a trash heap.  Sad.]  Then one landed on the dough and Towus (my host sister) tried to brush it away.  The fly wasn't going for it.  So she PICKED IT UP and tossed it aside.  Seriously.  These flies are freakin' domesticated. Nothing scares them and I so loathe them and their audacity.

Next comes peeling and slicing 4 kilos of apples.  No sweat, except my hands turned orange.  But the apples smell and taste so wonderfully delicious that looking like an oopma loompa is totally worth it.  Roll out the dough -- little difficulty with her dough here but no biggie --  and we're in business.  Assembling the pies – rolled the dough too thin and the bottom layer's leaking all the juice and the perfectionist in me is screaming bloody murder – but then I think, "hey, I'm in Turkmenistan, who says I have to make a perfect apple pie every time?  It'll still taste the same."  Feeling good about not being overwhelmed by my temporary baking shortcomings and sit back as Towus puts the pies in their brick oven.

 

Not even 2 minutes later she calls my name and both pies are out of the oven, top crust layers scorched.  Huh. Apparently there were flames.  I didn't think to check the temperature on the brick oven.  Which is total sarcasm because there is no temperature to check!  It must have been mighty hot to burn the crust so quickly.  I entertained thoughts of Hansel and Gretel and Sweeny Todd.  So she turns the gas waaaay down and we put the pies back in.  I try to explain that they need to cook for a long time, but she stood there anyway, waiting for them to cook.  And took them out nearly every 5 minutes for me to check.   I stood with her, enjoying the heat radiating from the bricks, listening to the juice in the pies bubble.  That oven would be an amazing marshmallow roaster.    So, lah-dih-dah the pies are done and I slice one up into 9 pieces for everyone to try.  One plate for me, 8 pieces in the pan for everyone else to eat out of.

 

Now, I could have only made one pie, but silly me assumed that it would be a big hit and two would be best.  Besides, that way Towus would learn by doing!  Alas, as I devour my piece of pie, I am met with sheepish grins and giggles and spoons being lowered to the plastic tablecloth.  They don't like spice it turns out.  The cinnamon was too much. But frankly I bet the results would have been the same sans cinnamon.  My host mother said, "Turkmen don't like spices.  We use salt and pepper and that's all."  Which is true and highly unfortunate for them, IMO.   And rather remarkable, considering the close proximity of such spicy empires as, say, India.  She also said, "We only eat Turkmen food."  My heart breaks for them. 

 

So they don't like my pie which is fine.  My feelings aren't hurt.  It's a damn tasty pie.  My host mother made me eat two pieces (yes, she made me.  You seriously do not understand how important it is for you to have food in your mouth at all times here.  She wanted me to eat three pieces but I put my foot down there. )  But them not liking my pie is good because now they understand me not liking goat (I told you there was a tie-in!)  This makes it easier for me to refuse gross food for the next 3 days.  Then I'll have to make another apple pie for the next family to turn their noses up.  The only problem was that I had a pie and a half left.  My fellow Americans happily ate our homemade slices of America  yesterday and today.  And burnt though it was, my crust was flaky and delicious.

  

I learned my lesson: when cooking tasty American food for Turkmen, underestimate the amount of food needed. 

 

I wrote a rousing journal entry on (the lack of) diversity in Turkmenistan and its cultural implications but I'll leave that for another time when I'm not waxing poetic about apple pie for 2 pages.  It just occurred to me that very shortly I will be without internet for an indefinite amount of time (as of Dec. 7 – the big move!)  So, keep that in mind. I'll be in Ashgabat until Saturday so I'll try to get in another email before then. 

 

I still fit into my skinny jeans,
Jess

 

Photo Update - you don't need to join Flickr...

Hi!

 

Okay, I spent some time and figured Flickr out today.  I'm sorry I sent you all the invite; it turns out I can send guest passes!  So here's the link.  PLEASE let me know if this works!  There are 21 pictures for you to see so far. 

 

Yay photos!

Jess

 

http://www.flickr.com/gp/11696456@N08/E38769

Culturally insensitive?

Hi guys,

 

So after sending my email yesterday, I started to feel kind of guilty.  Maybe I was a smidge culturally insensitive regarding the whole cleanliness/hand washing issue?  I guess the point that I was trying to make is we (Americans and Turkmen) have different ideas about what constitutes clean.  And that I think it's ironic that my host mother would scold me for being a grubby little girl (my words, not hers :) ) when I come from a culture that considers my current life style somewhat primitive. Undeveloped. 

 

But, I did not intent to imply that the U.S. is better.  Certainly there are sanitation issues in Turkmenistan and for those reasons alone I would venture to say that perhaps our US preoccupation with cleanliness is "better."  In terms of health and hygiene and sanitation, yes.  But does having toilets make us better people?  Not really.  I am most thankful for my outhouse.  It's a place where I can do my business privately. It serves its purpose.

 

So, while I won't be eating any raw ground beef anytime soon (ewwww) and I'll keep trying to wash with soap every time (not always available, however) I would never say that my US culture is better or that we're better people because of our lifestyles. 

 

Just wanted to get that off my chest.  

 

It's a beautiful 73 degrees in Ashgabat today.  I went to a "Mashine Toy" this morning -- a party celebrating the purchase of a new car!  There were lots of people and lots of food.  Including Dograma.  It was the first (and last) time I had Dograma.  After one bite I decided it was not for me.  It's crumbled bread, onion and... goat meat.  Yep.  Not my fav.

 

Photo update:  Sorry I invited you all to Flikr.  I didn't want to make my photos public but upon further thinking, I guess I will because it'll be a pain in the butt for you to all sign up for some  photo service you won't use just to see my pictures.  I'm working on it. 

 

Happy Sunday!

Jess

Happy (early) Thanksgiving!

Dear friends,

 

Greetings from sweaty Turkmenistan.  Seriously.  Last week I could see my breath each morning as I made my way out back to the outhouse.  Now, I'm sweating in my koynek (dress).  It's been quite mild the past few days.  Today had to be in the 50s at least.  Maybe 60s?  Warm enough for a light dress and a sweater.  Unfortunately, the heat is still on in our house.  And I get the feeling that it's either on or off, no happy medium.   As such, it's really, really hot in here. 

 

I was talking to my mom today (oh the wonders of skype! ) and it came to my attention that she was a little confused re: my current living situation.  Perhaps you are, too.  Let me clarify:  Yes, my new house is nicer.  There are more rooms, it's better decorated, there's a TV antenna, a phone, a car, and I have a sofa to sleep on.  The walls in the house are painted. 

 

[Turkmen house painting is well, different.  Maybe something that only pictures would do justice to, but I'll try to explain anyway.  There's a base color, usually light blue, and then beginning a third of the way up the wall, there are fake painted pillars (or, pillar-esque things).  The bottom half is painted to look like crown molding.  In our house, there's also a floral motif on the ceiling surrounding the "chandelier."  Quite decorative.  In my room, there's a mural.  It's a forest scene with two deer, what look like aspen trees, a creek, and mountains in the distance.]

 

Each room in the house is connected to another room – my room has two doors, one into each adjoining room.  The kitchen is in a separate building.  It's also nicer than the previous kitchen.  There's a stove and a small food prep area.  There's also a gas heater (very hot – we use to heat the water for bathing) small cabinet and refrigerator.  Bathtub and sink in the bathroom, but still no running water.

 

And yes, still an outhouse.  Although this one has a light, which is a definite plus when one wakes up at 6:00 in the morning to use the facilities.  Which I've been doing on a nightly basis since I've moved.   Which basically means I've been eating way too much watermelon.

 

Why do I eat so much melon?  Well, not only is it tasty, but this family has a thing for carbs.  For dinner the past three nights in row, I've eaten one main dish that was purely carbohydrate.  For example, tonight was potatoes and bread.  Yummy potatoes, but just potatoes nonetheless.  And yes, I know watermelon isn't the most nutritious of all the fruits, but it's not brown and so it makes a difference.  I eat quite a bit.  

 

I would like to call to your attention the fact that in Turkmen, there is no word for "weekend."  That's because in Turkmenistan, there is no weekend.  There is only Sunday, "Dynch Gun," (not prounounced "gun," but "goon") or "Rest Day."  The work/school week in Turkmenistan is Monday – Saturday.  TGIF doesn't hold quite the same meaning here, I'm afraid.  Unless you're a Peace Corps Volunteer – we go fun places on Saturdays but we're special.

 

You might think, then, that Sundays must be the time for kicking back and relaxing.  Nope.  On Sunday, we wash all the dirty laundry by hand and clean the house.  Washing machines? For sissies with running water who don't wish to spend all day scrubbing and squatting!!  All the carpets are swept and the molding wiped down with a damp cloth.  Sunday is the day you have time to do all the work you didn't get to during the week.  So friends, be glad for Saturday.  Take heart in Friday evening.  

 

This makes me chuckle:  My new host mother – whom I like more this week than last – seems to think I don't wash my hands.  I think she was spying on me the other day when, at 6:30 as I was coming back to the house from the toilet, I bypassed our small carafe of hand washing water.  Then, as I was again going to the toilet before breakfast, she asked me if I wash my hands admonished me to do so once I'd finished in the toilet.  She demonstrated with her hands how I should do it.  I agreed and gladly washed so she could see.  Now, what she doesn't know is that after my early morning bathroom visit, I used hand sanitizer in my room.  And that before breakfast, I had also doused some sanitizer on my hands.  I didn't feel like making an issue of it, so I didn't say, "But I did wash my hands!" Rest assured, I do always wash my hands.  Especially here.   So, why does this make me chuckle?  Well, because she thinks I'M dirty, even though:

 

a)     I wash my hands with soap, which is more than I can say about some people… (*cough, most Turkmen)

b)     We don't have flies all over our kitchen at home.  Furthermore, we don't have flies waltzing all over our dinner at home.

c)     We cover our mouths when we hack up mucous at home.  Or, at least I do.

d)     We flush at home.

e)     We don't lick raw ground meat off our fingers at home.  (Again, I don't.  You might.)

f)       And lastly, but probably most importantly, I've never gotten giardia at home.  So there!

 

It's not upsetting or frustrating.  I just think it's funny – clearly our concepts of personal cleanliness are not the same.  

 

That's all I have for now – healthy and happy for the time being,  albeit a little sweaty J 

 Happy Thanksgiving!  Eat some extra pumpkin pie in my honor!  (I want desperately to make a pumpkin pie but while we have an endless supply of pumpkins, I'm having a hard time finding heavy whipping cream, let alone a functioning oven...)

 

 

Thankful for the magic of Friday evenings,

 

Jessica

 

P.S. Here's my new address as of December 7 – remember that it's best to always use both the English and Turkmen versions, but if you only write the English, your letter/package WILL arrive (just maybe not as quickly).  Also, Summer had a pair of gloves stolen out of a small padded envelope, so if you send anything bigger than a letter, make sure it's got a lot of tape on it (the Thieving Post People are less likely to mess with stuff that's taped really well esp. if it's red, white, and blue USPS tape).  Happily, I have not had anything stolen out of my packages thus far.  If you're nervous, you can always use the Ashgabat address.  I'll get whatever you send, but just not right away because I'll have to go to A-bat to get it (or ask someone else to).

 

US Peace Corps Turkmenistan                  Türkmenistan

P.O. Box 46                                                    Lebap Welayaty

Central Post Office                                      Türkmenabat – 22, 746100

Turkmenabat – 22, 746100                          Merkezi poςta, abonent 46

Lebap Welayat                                             Parahatςylyk Korpusy

Türkmenistan                                               JESSICA HOOVER                            

JESSICA HOOVER                                     TÜRKMENISTAN        

TURKMENISTAN

 

 

P.P.S.  I'm working on uploading a few of my photos to my old Flikr account but it's taking ages.  I'll send out a link when I've finished.  There may only be a handful because it really is taking decades to upload a few pictures at a time.

 

Halach and Your Questions Answered!

Hello faithful readers!

 

Just another friendly update coming straight from the heart of Turkmenistan.  Last week I visited my permanent site in Mashpaya village (formerly Stalin) in the Halach etrap, Lebap welayat.  It's a very lovely area.  The Amu Darya River is close by and so there's a lot of vegetation.  They've diverted the river into several canals which help with growing.  Lebap is supposed to be one of the few areas of T-stan where there are fresh veggies year round (or at least for most of the year).  Arriving in Halach, I almost felt that I was at home; there were actually trees with fall colors and plenty of farm land.  Very green.  Also, extremely muddy.  Stalin/Mashpaya is part of a daihan birleshigi – collective farm.  This is a remnant of the Soviet days.  It means that people own land to farm on but they must give a certain percentage of their harvest to the government.    

 

The new host family is nice enough although I can't foresee really bonding with the host parents.  They're not mean or anything, just not my type.   I'll start shopping for a new family once I get back.   Sounds kind of awful, huh?  But most volunteers do not live with their originally assigned HF for the whole two years.  And besides, I figure I'd rather be with a really great family since it is two years, than be with a mediocre family just because I'll feel guilty moving out.    Both the host parents work at the school doing janitorial work.  There are two host sisters.  One is a student and the other works at home doing embroidery.  She spent two years in an institute studying accounting but there's no work for her.  There are two sons as well.  One works in Ashgabat, the other in Turkey.

 

I visited my school – it's bigger than our school in Magtymguly.  There are two floors, no heat.  A few "real" black boards but the majority are just painted blocks of wood.  The floors used to be tiled but now the tiles are broken and/or missing and much of the cement base layer is showing through.  No computers.  No phone.  Nice courtyard though, and they actually have gym and drawing classes which is new for me.  Magtymguly does not offer these courses. 

 

I took a train to and from Halach.  From Ashgabat, it's 800 kilometers but the trip took 18 hours.  (I'm not sure if it's 800 km as the crow flies or from A-bat to T-bat and then down to Halach, which is the route the train went.)  That's right; you could fly from JFK to Istanbul faster than that.  But, I guess it was a fun experience.  Sleeping on the train, bonding with the other Lebap trainees, chatting with the random old Russian men who shared our compartment.  We can't figure out why PC didn't fly us – other trainees who will be closer to Ashgabat than we flew.  Maybe there weren't enough tickets – who knows?  There is an airport in Turkmenabat so it's possible to fly there and then take a taxi to Halach.  Halach is 180 km from T-bat.  Our train tickets cost 73,000 manat.  About 5 dollars.  A plane ticket is 250,000 manat, or a little less than $20. 

 

Peace Corps does not have an office in Turkmenabat, but we do have a P.O. Box.  My address will be changing once I move and I'll give you an update ASAP.  I want to verify that what I have written is correct before I give it out. 

 

The current PCVs in my area gave me a site description that I'll attach – the girl who wrote it is just about to complete her two year service so she should know more than I do J  I am concerned about what she wrote concerning the T-bat post office, so again, I'll ask PC staff and keep you posted.

 

My mom sent an email asking several questions which I'll answer now…

 

1.       Will I live in my own apartment? 

Like I said, I have a HF.  It is possible for some volunteers to live alone in apartments, but it's more frequent in the city.  In the village, it's cheaper and safer to live with a HF.  Volunteers, unless they are married, are not allowed to live together because PC thinks it will prevent them from fully integrating into their communities. 

 

2.      Besides camel head, grease soup, fake cake, gristle and fat what do I eat?

Breakfast is most often bread with butter and/or homemade jelly.  Sometimes milk.  Always tea.  Lunch we eat at Collin's.  His host mom usually serves: tea, bread, carrot salad, sliced tomatoes served (sometimes) with onions, apples, bananas and mandarins if we're lucky along with any of the following common Turkmen meals:

Gutap – "pie," dough filled with spinach, mushrooms, or meat, shaped like a half moon and fried

Chorba – soup.  Anything goes really, usually with carrots, potatoes, and meat

Un ash – one of our favorites.  Basically like homemade chicken noodle soup

 

Today at lunch we had soup with cabbage dumplings.  Another popular dish is quite similar to ravioli: small dough hexagons filled with spinach and boiled.  Served with yogurt.  Collin's host mom also makes a "turkmen pizza:"  like a pizza only there is dough on top and bottom and it's filled with meat, pumpkin, and onions.

 

Dinner is bread, tea, and a Turkmen dish or two.  We've been eating a lot of watermelon recently.  There's also a lot of dill, parsley and basil here, which they consider vegetables and eat straight up.

 

Familiar veggies: tomatoes, cucumber, pumpkin, onion, eggplant, carrots.  They do a lot of canning and pickling for the winter.

 

Fruits: watermelon, a melon similar to honeydew, grapes, bananas (imported), pomegranate, mandarin oranges (also imported), apricots, apples, peaches, persimmons (I think)

 

3.      Common "farm" animals?

These live in our back yards: camels, cows, chickens, sheep, goats, ducks.  Because many families have cows, there's often fresh dairy of varying degrees of tastiness.

 

4.      Gardens?

Yes, nearly every family has veggies and some fruit trees/bushes.  In Halach, it's safe to say that EVERYONE has a garden.

 

5.      Common means of transportation?

Bus (near Ashgabat or other cities) or marshurtka (public mini-van), train (not local), taxi.  In T-stan, any car is a taxi.  You flag someone down and ask if they'll take you where you need to go, negotiating the price before getting in the car.  And women do not sit in the front seat unless they're offering a little somethin' somethin'.  One of the Turkmen PC staff visited the US and tried to ask random people to take her places.  Didn't work quite the way it does here and she was most offended.

 

6.      What do people wear?

Depends.  Ethnic Russians and other Third Country Nationals tend to be more modern in their dress.  In cities you'll see jeans and miniskirts.  Traditional Turkmen women wear dresses to their ankles with embroidery around the neckline and usually going down the middle of their chests and ending near the belly button, kind of horseshoe shaped.  Modern Turkmen women will dress as the Russians do.  I don't know if Russian women wear shorts in the summer.  There's a lot of Russian TV here and therefore heavy cultural influence.  In more liberal places, the dresses don't have to be ankle length. 

7.      What's your HF like?

Funny you should ask.  Upon arriving back in Ashgabat, I was informed that I would immediately be moving out of my HF.  There is a 2 year placement in Magtymguly and my family was chosen to host the volunteer for her time of service.  Apparently during her visit, my host father kissed her hand, told her she was very beautiful, and tried to kiss her face.  PC decided I had to move ASAP.  FYI, he never did any of that to me. 

 

This was rather disappointing, because I really liked them.  My mother was warm and open, the sisters all friendly.  We got along swimmingly.  They gave me space but we still spent a lot of time together.  My former host father is a lab assistant at the water treatment plant in A-bat.  My host mom stayed at home to cook and watch after the animals.  The 4 sisters and 1 brother were all students.  We lived in a compound so I had my own door to the outside which was awesome.  Alas…

 

My new HF (for the next 2 weeks):  The house is nicer.  My room is large and I have a sofa to sleep on.  There's also heat, which is nice (last house = no heat in room).  It's a lot brighter, too.  Nicer kitchen, bathroom, toilet.  But…the host mom is tough to deal with.  She's pretty rude, in fact.  I showed them photos on my laptop today and she said, "oh you must be rich.  Buy us a computer.  Tell your mom to buy us a computer as a present"  I flat out told her "no"…not sure if that was appropriate or not, but whatever.  She talks about me to her children right in front of me, too.  And it's not all glowing either.  But they can get away with it because I don't understand a lot.  My other family had a lot more respect for me and never would have done that.

 

So now, it's awkward because I have to start all over acclimating this family to what it's like to live with an American – for instance, my independence is strange to them.  I want to go to a friend's house or to the city rather than spend time getting to know them.   Not that I don't want to know them, but having been here a month, I've earned certain freedoms that it doesn't seem fair to have to give up because a new family might not understand.  Oh well.  It's only two weeks.

 

This family has 5 children: 3 older sons and 2 daughters.  2 sons are married.  The unmarried son was pushed on to me the first night I was here (I got winked at by the host mom).  The daughters are nice, one is my age.  The dad's an engineer, the mom stays home.  One of the married sons lives here with his wife.  Every room in the house is a bedroom, including the foyer.  Two weeks.  Two weeks. 

 

 

A few brief tidbits:

There's a dearth of hugging here.  Of course, it's culturally inappropriate to hug a man in public if you are an unmarried girl but I haven't even seen displays of affection between parents and their children.  It makes me sad because I can't imagine my parents not hugging me and telling me they love me.  And that's another one:  I haven't heard parents tell their children that they love them, either. 

 

There was no gas the other evening.  We had to cook our dinner over a fire outside – no biggie but it did get pretty chilly in the house.  This is only interesting because Turkmenistan exports something like 90,000,000 (there may be an extra zero needed there; I forget the exact figure) cubic meters of gas/year. 

 

 

Well, that's it for now.  We're going to Ashgabat today to drink beer and have bad (but good enough) pizza J  Hope you're all doing well; I'll send my new address out ASAP but until then (and after, too) the Ashgabat address will always work. 

 

Happy Sunday!

Jess