March 7, 2013

There couldn’t have been a more dreary contrast in the weather than the one I faced this morning. Temperatures dropped to 28 degrees Fahrenheit and the skies turned that leaden color signaling snow was just about to start falling. I had to find my felt booties again just to keep my feet warm.

I had stayed up the night before reading “Stolen Lives” and got through about half of the paperback. So this morning, I was bleary eyed and tired. I had breakfast and then did the dishes as the landlady had promised to come by with the plumber by noon. I emailed Damira to remind her I still needed a handyman to come by and replace the broken window pane, and she promised to follow up on it.

I had agreed to meet with Willoughby in afternoon so we could have a cup of coffee and catch up on the latest news in our lives. I had suggested meeting at the new coffee house behind Lingua and just as I was about to get there, she called to say she was at the other coffee house near my house, the one suggested by my landlady.

I got off the trolley in front of the Opera Ballet so as to go across the street and board another one in the opposite direction. There were lots of people hustling about, many selling single roses in cellophane wraps and chocolates, in anticipation of the International Women’s Day celebration tomorrow.

After going through the underpass and getting to the bus stop, a chilly mixture of rain and snow started falling accompanied by high winds. I was only wearing a sweater, pants, socks and my clogs and felt the cold go right through my clothes.

Willoughby called to say the coffeehouse was full of ashtrays, thus out of bounds for me, and we decided to meet at Vanilla Sky across from my flat. This time, we had a server who spoke some English and helped us order the right kind of coffee. Mine came as hot as I like it and it was a decent latté. Willoughby ordered a frozen coffee drink and was happy as well.

She had baked some oatmeal cookies for me knowing I still don’t have access to an oven, a gesture I really appreciated. We discussed all things related to Lingua, Forum, the Peace Corps and the U.S. Embassy and said goodbye before six.

I returned to my flat, had some leftovers and then watch an interesting, albeit somewhat dissatisfying, film, “Nothing Personal” about a young Dutch woman who goes to live in Ireland to put her past, of which we know nothing, behind her. I then returned to the “Stolen Lives” book and stayed up all night to finish it. What a spellbinding story. There must a movie out there, I am sure.

March 6, 2013

I managed to get to Lingua on time, and found Anna busily printing the remaining CATEC applications. I notified her that Jennifer had forwarded Zamira’s application this late thus signaling we should accepted even though it was past the deadline. I started to add the names to the database and when Natalia got in asked her to start putting them in alphabetical order.

The quality of the submissions didn’t improve at all. We had an applicant with a doctorate who dared submit a one-page document summarizing what she’d be presenting and nothing else. Anna and I decided on the spot to dump it into the “No” pile just because of the woman’s audacity.

Since so many of the applicants failed to write a summary or the required 250 word abstract, poor Anna has now accumulated a pile of applications for her to contact the person submitting them asking to clarify what the intend to do so we can have a second round of votes. The number of applicants who have passed the test so far doesn’t even reach ten.

Gulnara came in to let us know the staff was celebrating Maria’s wedding and birthday, taking place last Saturday, so pizza and cake were available in the kitchen. Natalia had to leave, not before checking with me that everything was all right, and then Anna and I went to the teachers’ lounge where I found Mathew having cake.

He indicated the debate club team was going well and they were replicating the activity for the American Corner twice a week. Douglas then came in, formally dressed in khaki pants and long sleeve shirt, so I asked him if he was already teaching and apparently he is. Nargiza was all over him to insure he got a piece of cake.

I ate two small slices of pizza, pretty dried stuff since the makers here don’t add any tomato sauce to the dough, and then a piece of fluffy cake topped with fresh fruit. It had come from the bakery on the first floor of my apartment building.

At two o’clock, when the computer room was needed for a lesson, I left coat in hand since it was that warm outside. I waited for the trolley for some time and it didn’t come. I hopped into a marshrutka and that was a major mistake for there was no ventilation inside and the vehicle got very crowded before it turned on Bokombaeva Street.

I got off before my exit and just walked the rest of the way stopping at the convenience store across the street to pick up a few staples including mashed potatoes and funchoza. Google weather indicated the temperature was 77 degrees and the apartment felt uncomfortably hot since the radiators were still putting out heat despite what the thermostat said and there was no way of turning  those off manually.

I had a cup of café con leche while catching up with the news on CNN. Amanpour had as her guest the Spanish actor Javier Bardem who had just completed a documentary on the ill-treatment of refugees in the Sub-Saharan region of Africa the Moroccan king had annexed back in 1977. I had never heard of this conflict and need to do some research on it.

I emailed my landlady reminding her of my need for an A/C unit as soon as possible. She replied she’d be coming by after work and did so. I had meant to print a receipt for the March rent, but simply forgot. She promised to start looking for the air conditioner and to bring the plumber along tomorrow during her lunch hour.

March 5, 2013

Spent a very quiet day at home working on the presentation on using humor in the classroom that I plan on offering to the teachers at the conference in Shymkent, KZ. Holly has asked me to be the keynote speaker as she had been asked to do the honors, but felt she lacked sufficient experience in the field to do so. I’m going to be on pins and needles until I do deliver that speech.

When I submitted a tentative request for airfare to fly into Almaty this time, instead of taking the minibus and having to wait for hours on either side of the border, Jennifer replied encouraging me to go by land once again. She also wanted to know how much money I had left of my PAA most likely to consider asking me to cover my expenses to the CATEC conference come June.

I got an email from my friend Stephanie indicating she’d be undergoing a surgical procedure on the 12^th, but refusing to say what it was for. I’m hoping her niece can send me a note that day letting me know it was successful.

I sent Elvira a note asking her if the American Studies Association would consider a presentation on the contribution of Hispanics to the U.S. culture for their conference in May. I don’t believe they know much about us and I’d love to enlighten them a bit if possible. It’d also save me from having to create yet another presentation.

I spent the evening watching a two-and-half hour long documentary on the Rockefeller family originally aired through the History Channel. It was most informative even when I felt it didn’t really provide all the details on the ruthless ways the family employed to accumulate their billions. The suffering of the people who worked for them, and the raping of the land to make their industry flourish were simply airbrushed.

March 4, 2013

I got so distracted this morning attending to my emails and Facebook’s postings that I had to make a mad dash out the door to be at Lingua by eleven. The traffic was snarled for some reason and the stoplight at the corner of Sovietskaya and Frunze wasn’t even working, so I had to pray that the drivers would let me make it across to the school.

Anna was already there, but Natalia was running late. I asked Zarina for a box to place the applications once they were printed and sat down at the computer to put together a database for all the applicants showing whether their submission had been accepted, rejected or to be reconsidered depending on the overall quality of all submissions.

We went through the first twenty applications and found out that most of them didn’t address the topic of critical thinking and the teaching and learning of English and rejected them outright. The only one we accepted was from a member of Lingua and even that one needed to be tweaked in order to comply with the requirement. We agreed to meet on Wednesday and sometime next week if need be to go over all the applications.

Gulnara came by to say the staff was being treated to lunch to celebrate both the 12the anniversary of the founding of the school and International Women’s Day since the school would be closed on Friday. Natalia had to leave at one o’clock, but I had a bite to eat and chatted with Zarina who was doing the dishes in the teacher’s lounge. She insisted I take one of the takeout containers from the Chinese restaurant Peking Duck, and I chose the one containing eggplant and tomatoes.

Zarina informed me that only ten pre-service teachers had signed up for the series of workshops due to start tomorrow. I remained firm in my demand that we recruit at least twenty of them or just scrap the plan for I don’t want to bother teaching such a small group who could dwindle even further once we get started.

Once I got home, Gulnara called to say she was postponing the beginning of the workshops until next week. I sincerely doubt that one more week will do the trick, but I’ll have to wait and see.

March 3, 2013

It was a different kind of a Sunday as I took up the morning to finish the PowerPoint presentation on critical thinking and then got ready to go to Laira’s house for lunch. The weather was overcast again and for the first time, very windy as well.

 I was able to wear just my tights under my black pants and clogs instead of boots. I meant to buy wine to bring to the lunch, but only found the usual non-alcoholic ones at Narodni, and Laira indicated she didn’t want anything at all.

As I walked on Manas to catch the marshrutka, I ran into Asia and Ebi who were heading to the Dordoi Bazaar slightly hung over from having gone clubbing the night before. They both apologize for not having been in touch, but it was the kind of meaningless platitudes one encounters around here quite often.

Laira’s house stood on a narrow side street full of potholes and as unattractive as all the other ones I’ve seen so far. The high orange gate hid the first floor of the two story structure with an inner courtyard where a barbecue had been built into a wall. She showed me several fruit trees, completely bear still, and the area where she’ll eventually plant some fruit with her daughters.

She had already cooked the white rice and the beans and was waiting for me to cook the chicken as she complained she didn’t always get the best results. The chicken was boneless and thus took very little time to cook after I added a few more spices, capers and olives. She had been given three avocadoes by a Salvadorean friend whose husband brings them from her country.

Her two daughters were quite polite, but they were hungry and started eating the minute the food was placed on the table. Her husband had a meeting at two and left shortly after he finished eating. He’s from Switzerland, but speaks Spanish fluently since he lived in the Dominican Republic for five years before meeting Laira.

We had a serving of our “habichuelas con dulce”, a very thick paste in this case, and I found it resembled the real thing quite well, especially when I overlooked the lack of sweet potatoes, cassava bread or the real small cookies that are usually placed on top it. Laira made me Santo Domingo coffee and I was a real happy camper.

It had started raining in the meantime and Laira offered to drive me home after showing me the upstairs of the house where the bedrooms, formal living room and playroom were located. I took some leftovers home.

March 2, 2013

It was warm enough this morning that I only had to don my lightweight sweatshirt to make a dash to the bank and withdraw the remaining money to pay my rent after the landlady gave a buzz to remind me she’d be coming by for it. Willoughby had also mentioned she’d be coming by after doing some shopping at the Osh bazaar.

I had cereal for breakfast while watching CNN cover some news from the Middle East and Africa. I tidied up the apartment before Willoughby got here around one and then we sat down to catch on each other’s news as she had been out of town at an HIV seminar most of the week.

We drank coffee and then took the trolley to the Opera Ballet where several couples, who had just gotten married, were having their shots taken by professional photographers. The ballet today was a modern one to take place in two acts, and there were lots of young people milling around when we got there.

The lower-priced tickets were all sold out, and we had to settle for the third row orchestra seats at 250.00 soms each, still a bargain by U.S. standards. There was no orchestra playing today and the canned music was most disappointing as it sounded robotic and discordant. The dancing seemed amateurish and morbid. I was not impressed with either ballet, each lasting about 25 minutes, and was more than happy when it was over.

I took it that most of the crowd must have been friends and relatives of the dancers for real lovers of ballet would not have been happy with that particular show. It was still light outside and we had agreed to try and find the other Chinese restaurant Zamira had taken me to last year now that I had a better idea of its location two blocks behind the Tsum department store.

It was no trouble whatsoever to find the place and it was crowded just like the last time. Our server spoke no English and there was no menu in English either. I was racking my brains trying to remember the names of different vegetables to order when a young woman spoke English to us and helped us order stir-fried broccoli, lamb, spinach and fried rice along with green tea.

The servings were generous, the food was piping hot and somewhat spicy, it didn’t take too long to come and yet, I didn’t find it as good as the time when Zamira was the one doing the ordering. Willoughby liked very much and pronounced it the best Chinese she’s eaten so far. I got the leftovers this time and then we walked back to the bus stop just in time for me to run after the #4 trolley and get in it. 

March 1, 2013

I had to set up the alarm the night before to insure that I woke up on time to skype with my mother on her birthday. Boy, did I feel tired! When I checked my inbox, it was clogged with multiple submissions for the CATEC conference and I did my best to reply personally to each one before moving them to a separate folder.

The skype session went very well as the image was vivid and the sound clear. My mother looked great having had her hair and nails done recently while also appearing to be in a good mood. We chitchatted about everything before I let her know I needed to be on my way to the American Pilot School for a session on American Values and Etiquette.

The temperature was already close to 40 degrees Fahrenheit and the snow was beginning to melt at the edges as I made my way to the marshrutka. Tatiana only had ten out of twenty teachers in the little Resource Room and Zeynep was absent today as her daughter was ill. When I asked Tatiana what I needed to do, the informed me I as to run the entire two hour session when I had understood I was there to answer questions.

I had to scramble for my jump drive to try and find something on culture to give us a head start. I had then write a definition of what culture was, share it with a partner and then report to the class. Subsequent to that, they did a Venn diagram showing similarities and differences between the U.S. and Kyrgyz culture, followed by a short review of body language, and finally a few words on etiquette at the table. I had gotten out of that one by the skin of my teeth!

Mairamgul was waiting for me at the VEFA Center so we could proceed to a celebration at another school. She had mentioned on the telephone that I had met this journalist during the winter session and he taught English at a new school out in a village. We rode for perhaps half an hour before reaching a spanking new school, #84, where the security guard escorted to the bathroom before we headed to the auditorium.

I had no idea this school’s English program was also supported by the U.S. Embassy until just a few minutes after we sat down, there came Natalia bearing more CDs and other teaching materials to add to the growing collection on the table. Mairamgul had brought the teacher a framed thank you letter.

We were treated to a slide show evidencing the teacher’s participation in numerous conferences and training sessions abroad including the United States and then the children got on stage and sang many songs in English, apparently all of the songs contained in both CDs the embassy normally distributes.

The power went out, never to return while we were there, and then the endless distribution of certificates took place, but not before all the speeches, including mine, were listened to. Some of the parents insisted on having my photo taken with their child and then we were invited to have tea, except there was no electricity to make it, and so we had to settle for biscuits, fruit and juice.

I promised the teacher that I would make at least one appearance at one of his classes in the near future before we boarded the marshrutka where I promptly dozed off for I was so tired and ravenously hungry. Mairamgul woke me up to tell me she’d be getting off nearby and for me to continue until I got the intersection with Manas. The driver overheard the conversation and was nice enough to point it out to me when we nearby.

It was definitely warm enough to just wear my sweatshirt, so I open the kitchen window when I got home and let the fresh air in. I had some leftovers for lunch and took a nap in the sofa. I then got up and did the dishes before sitting down at the computer to reply to more participants to the conference who had waited until the last minute to submit their proposals.

Zarina wrote me a short note indicating the trainers for the methodology course at Lingua wanted to know why I wanted to be present during their classes and to be given previous notice every time I wanted to show up. I told Zarina, while sending a carbon copy to Gulnara, Jennifer and Natalia, that I had no desire to be in a place where I wasn’t wanted and would not be bothering to come by after all.

I had had a chance to mention to Jennifer last night that I felt my presence at Lingua was completely superfluous as their staff thought they were so good they didn’t need anything from me even though mistakes were being made everywhere. Jennifer agreed my time here was too precious to waste it where it wasn’t appreciated.