For my first impressions of Turkmenistan, I would like to begin with the dogs. Both owned and feral roam the streets, some as large as bikes and others as small as cats with teeth so big you think their heads should fall over. The way to avoid being ravished by these dogs is to, if approached, bend down and pretend to grab a rock. The dog will then growl a bit, but soon move away and let you pass whole. The reason for this is that all infant puppies have rocks thrown at their heads by children (and adults) and so have a just and understandable terror of rocks. Logical explanations for extreme situations seem to be around every corner in Turkmenistan. The extreme grandeur of the capital, Ashgabat, with its towering spires of marble and gold off the cover of a Ray Bradbury “Martian Chronicles” novel compared with my training site town of G— all have reasonable explanations. Free gas, electricity, and water in homes compared to a roll of toilet paper costing more than several liters of Coke.
Honestly, I really enjoy this place and the people. I have been blessed with an incredible host family who spends hours helping me with my Turkmen language skills (in a week I’m up the level I was with Swahili in 4 months and Spanish in 9 years) and friends who make the days pass so quick I feel like there aren’t enough hours in the day. Every time I walk home along my tree-lined dusty street I feel blessed that I can happily anticipate returning to my family and seeing what adventure in cooking, vocabulary, grammar, cleaning, or conversation they have waiting for me. With a diet of melons (really really good melons), fried dough stuffed with meat, salads drenched in oil, pomegranates (bigger than fists), and average seven cups of tea a day, I think I will gain about 50 pounds during the next three months, but I’ll be happy with every bite.
As I was walking back from the bucket-shower room (also the furnace room and the tooth brushing room although I haven't quite figured out how the combination of buckets work and where the drain is), I saw my host Dad watching the ABC "Arabian Nights" mini-series on TV (the TV is on constantly, I've seen more TV in the last 78 hours than in the past five years combined) and it blew my mind a little that I am living an Arabian Nights story. Merv, an archeological site near the city of Mary, is mentioned in one of the tales and the characters have Central Asian names and looked like my host family, my teacher counterparts, and my students. The town looks significantly different, think small town Midwest combined with southern Californian mountains with lines of private courtyard compounds, but I'm actually here.
Honestly, I really enjoy this place and the people. I have been blessed with an incredible host family who spends hours helping me with my Turkmen language skills (in a week I’m up the level I was with Swahili in 4 months and Spanish in 9 years) and friends who make the days pass so quick I feel like there aren’t enough hours in the day. Every time I walk home along my tree-lined dusty street I feel blessed that I can happily anticipate returning to my family and seeing what adventure in cooking, vocabulary, grammar, cleaning, or conversation they have waiting for me. With a diet of melons (really really good melons), fried dough stuffed with meat, salads drenched in oil, pomegranates (bigger than fists), and average seven cups of tea a day, I think I will gain about 50 pounds during the next three months, but I’ll be happy with every bite.
As I was walking back from the bucket-shower room (also the furnace room and the tooth brushing room although I haven't quite figured out how the combination of buckets work and where the drain is), I saw my host Dad watching the ABC "Arabian Nights" mini-series on TV (the TV is on constantly, I've seen more TV in the last 78 hours than in the past five years combined) and it blew my mind a little that I am living an Arabian Nights story. Merv, an archeological site near the city of Mary, is mentioned in one of the tales and the characters have Central Asian names and looked like my host family, my teacher counterparts, and my students. The town looks significantly different, think small town Midwest combined with southern Californian mountains with lines of private courtyard compounds, but I'm actually here.
1 comment:
I'm so happy to hear that you're having a great time! *hugs* I miss you, but it's wonderful that the experience is so rewarding so far. And those pictures are lovely.
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