Back in Town

Howdy folks-

I'm back in Abot, and I've picked up directly where I had left off. I'm busy teaching and teaching and commuting and scheming new things to teach.

Lucky for me, I made it back in town for Christmas. Although here, the big day is New Year's. For this reason, the Russian/Turkmen version of Santa Claus is circling the third floor of the Turkish superstore where I happen to be using high speed internet. He is escorted by his beautiful young grandaughter. When I tell people that Santa Claus has a wife, they usually ask, "But she is young right?" Hahahahah! No, I reply, she is not.

I don't feel like reiterating last year's New Year's post. Instead, I have decided to include a welcome letter that I was asked to write by staff for the new volunteers. Yes, there should be new volunteers coming in February or March!! Only health volunteers are coming but regardless, I'm excited to meet everyone!

Ok, here it is:

Welcome to Trainees!

We are so glad to have you! You have embarked upon a journey of epic proportions in a country of epic contrasts. But you know that already. Everyone has told you some variant of the above, I’m sure. Most people have no idea, though, what the specifics will be. To be honest, neither do I. I know that my experience is uniquely mine and your experience here will also be uniquely yours. Own it! You get to be in Turkmenistan today.
So about what I do know. I teach English at a language institute in T-stan’s beautiful, if somewhat surreal, capital city. In other words, I teach approximately 120 students a week ranging in age from 16 to 25. Not only do they span the spectrum in maturity, they also span the spectrum in language ability. A year into my service, my job still demands constant flexibility, creativity, and more than anything, optimism. I have learned to fail gracefully and start building again not only at the institute, but also in my daily interactions with my host family and even with the strangers on the bus. I have eaten bone-marrow jello, taught a class of 30 students with 0 preparation, welcomed Santa on New Year’s, discussed the difference between nationality and ethnicity, worn skirts, survived the buses during rush hour, and found peanut butter at a bazaar. All this adds up to some of the highest highs and some of the lowest lows of my life. I don’t regret it for a second.
I hope I haven’t solidified any expectations that you are carrying around because that is probably the worst thing I could possibly do. Do not go into your service with expectations. Easier said than done, I know. Open minded, yes. Expectations, no. Expectations tend to lead to let downs or worse, self-fulfilling low standards. A lack of expectations allows for room to observe, listen, induce (not deduce!), and build up from what you find.
I hope that your experience will not be easy. I hope that you will face challenges, make mistakes, and feel lonely. Why? Well, I have found that it is from these low places that I learn the most. I’m a teacher after all!


That's all for now guys. Have a very Merry Christmas and a wonderful New Year!

DC Trip

As some of you may have heard, I have messed up my knee again. About a month ago, I convinced Gary, my sitemate, to go with me to the health walk. The health walk is a paved path through the mountains outside of the city. One of the other volunteers once attempted to count the stairs on the health walk but stopped after 3000. Needless to say, you go up stairs and then you come down stairs. Poor Gary. I convinced him to go up a full 5 kilometers before turning around. With 3 kilometers left to go on our decent, I hurt my knee jumping from a height of about 1.5 ft. I was unable to walk.

For the remaining 3 kilometers, I hopped up the up parts, slid down the railing on the down parts, and Gary carried me (imagine any Vietnam war movie you have seen where one loyal soldier carries his wounded companion to safety-minus the mud, Vietnam, the war, and any sort of enemy) on the flat parts. It took two hours to get to the bottom.

Side note: That morning I had promised my host family a Mexican burrito night. Upon my return home, I was distracted by the awesomeness of flavored ground beef and CHEESE! It was fabulous.

The next morning, I reported my injury to Peace Corps. After an x-ray and a CAT scan, the doctors concluded that I had managed to jolt one of the screws in my knee (put there during ACL surgery two years ago) out of the bone.

After two weeks of bed rest—which if you know me at all, drove me crazier than I already am J--I returned to the institute. Despite all the mental pressure I put on it, my knee refused to improve.

As a result, Peace Corps is sending me to Washington DC for medical treatment. It is so strange for me to be leaving! It is so strange to be headed back to the US! In my preparations, I have done a lot of reflecting. This is what I reflected J:

I would like to thank you very much for supporting me in my first year of Peace Corps service. As I have cleaned out my room in preparation for my medical evacuation, I have come across a lot of wonderful memories. I feel, more than ever, that my past year has been a full one, full of challenges, successes, mistakes, failures, personal growth, and change all around. Although I don’t have the hindsight to fully grasp how significant this year has been, I can already tell you that it has been the most formative year of my life.

This reflection has also convinced me, beyond a doubt that this is not goodbye. I do not wish to take this opportunity to bow out gracefully. To put it simply, I am not finished here. Not only have I made a two year commitment that I wish to fulfill, I have too many loose ends.

· First, I have begun a TOEFL prep club with four eager women who are committed for the next year.
· I also began a new club at the institute recently with my best students from last year. They want to put together a teacher resource book for students to use during their year of practicum or required teaching in the public schools.
· I prepared for but was unable to give a training session on the use of the new audio equipment at the institute.
· My host sister from training is pregnant, and I want to see her holding her child.
· I dedicated myself to a full year of teaching 110 second year students who expect to see my smiling face at least once a week.
· I have not been able to visit either Lebop or Dashoguez.
· I began a club not for the best students, but for the worst students in an effort to give them a second chance to catch up.
· I designed 12 training sessions for PST that I was unable to put into use. I want the chance to do that next year.
· I have become part of a support network of volunteers. It may be cliché, but we feel like family. I can’t imagine leaving them now.
· I am excited to meet with five or six of my most excited teachers who recently began to ask me for various communicative games to set them up for each week’s lessons, games that they play in class.
· I want to improve both my Russian and my Turkmen.
· I would like a chance to redo the ECA that I helped with last year. I learned so much and want to put what I learned to use.
· Last week I discussed the difference between ethnicity, nationality, and culture with one of my classes. I want to continue that discussion.
· I have not been able to go on a walk with one of my teachers who lives very near to me. I promised her I would.
· Finally, I have not properly told anyone goodbye.

I do not wish to parade my list of accomplishments. I merely wish to assert the importance of this past year and my desire to return to a place that I now call home.

Thanks again for your support!

Tess Elmore

Coming up on a year! (Part 1)

I was recently asked if I have adapted entirely to the culture. My answer was an absolute no. I don’t think that is entirely possible. After all, I started 23 years behind everyone else! Then on second thought, I considered how comfortable I am navigating through my daily life, through the chance meetings, and insignificant exchanges. I considered how I am now comfortable in my own clothing and own skin, even confident! I considered how often I am mistaken for a native specifically, of Russian origin (until I open my mouth and Turkmen inevitably comes out!). I think perhaps I’m doing pretty well in the whole cultural adaptation arena. However, there are still moments when I do a mental jaw drop at just how different life is here. Here are some recent jaw drops:

Cultural Moments

1. First, it is very common to wish people ‘bon appetite’ when they are eating. Especially if they are eating and you are not. Usually this doesn’t happen at organized meals. My teachers have translated this to ‘good appetite.’ So, during my breaks when I eat lunch I am constantly encouraged to be hungry! Ha!

Anyway, I occasionally stop by the bazaar on the way to or from work. Usually, I will purchase a kilo of apples, a couple bananas, or maybe a sweet roll. I then cart my haul to my next destination before partaking of the bounty. However, one day I was particularly hungry and pulled out my sweet roll to much on while still walking to work. As I was putting the roll to my mouth, I was greeted with a loud ‘Bon Appetite!’ from the stranger walking past me on the street. I was shocked. Stopped walking. And looked at him. He didn’t even turn around. I continued down the street and within 20 seconds received another one! I couldn’t help laughing! Two complete strangers had just politely applauded, even spurred on my street side roll ingestion.

2. I gave my students pictures of famous people to practice describing appearance. I did my best to stick to people they would know. These people included: Shakira, Obama, Enrique Iglesias, Tess (Me!), Putin, and Julia Roberts among others. They doubly surprised because first, they did not recognize Akon because they did not expect him to be black and second, they had no idea who Albert Einstein is. They did appreciate the fact that most people have long hair but that he had tall hair. J

3. Again on the subject of appearances, I was not at all surprised when my female students admitted to having short red hair despite the fact that they all have long black braids reaching down to their waist from underneath the ornately embroidered skull cap. Both the skull cap and braids are characteristic of all school and university uniforms. Fake hair may be purchased at a number of Bazars in Ashgabat. I have resisted the seductive call of the fake hair thus far but I’ll keep you updated. I was surprised, however, that my hair was described as both short (it now stretches at least half way down my back) and red (it is inarguably brown). I was reminded, once again, that EVERYTHING, even color, is relative.

5. In a class of advanced students, we were debating what makes a good and what makes a bad teacher. In one activity, they were describing a teacher on her first day of teaching. Their description of an absolutely horrible teacher was by and large a physical description. This poor teacher had a hole in her shoe and sticks in her hair. Ha! I was reminded once again how serious appearance is here. I made sure to iron my blouse twice the next morning. In 115 degree heat, women will close windows to avoid messing up their hair! That’s commitment.

6. So I have this problem with white-washed walls. It is the same problem I have with chalk. It is the same problem I had with mud when I was 5 (read: when I was in a country that had mud). I always get it all over me. But not to worry! The teachers and even students have me covered. They are constantly brushing off my back, my shoulders, and my sleeves. I’m no longer embarrassed about it. It is kinda of a joke for our department. However, it reached a new low last week after I brushed the back of my right shoulder against the wall in the English department office. Both of the young male teachers in our department did simultaneously came to my rescue. HA! Can you imagine? I had two men falling over me to brush a white-wash spot off my shoulder.

7. Last week, I had a cold and as a result, I lost my voice. All day everyday, I had people expressing their condolences for my voice. After initial concern, a twinkle would light up their eyes and a hint of accusation would creep into their voice. “Did you eat ice-cream or drink cold water??” I was posed this question at least 15 times a day. I abstained from those tempting 15 cent ice-creams just so I could assure them that, no, the ice-cream was not at fault. After two days of this, my patience was a tad bit stretched. This is what an ice-creamless life does to me. I walked into the Peace Corps guard shack excepting, for some unknown reason, understanding. Perhaps they would encourage me to visit the medical staff, acquire medication of some sort, or perhaps rest. I was relieved when the initial concern did not digress to accusation. I couldn’t help laughing (soundlessly) when the concern gave way to a conspiratory wink and a “it was the cold beer huh?”

8. Ok. This one is a bit embarrassing and I can’t believe I’m gonna put it on the world wide web but here goes. So my supervisor is approximately four feet tall. I am not four feet tall. I am a solid 5.7. I had just helped her use the computer to find and print some document or another. She was standing in front of me to thank me for my help when this huge smile lit up her face. You are a good Muslim! She said in perfect English. I was really confused. She laughed and reached up to pat me on the shoulder. “You have something that all good Muslims have,” she said. “A chin hair!”

Chin hair and all, I’m heading into my second year of service. I’m still working on the cultural adaptation, but I’m thoroughly enjoying myself in the process.

I miss you all.

Tess

Vacation!

After 16 days filled with Thailand, I have returned to Turkmenistan relaxed, well-rested, and 10 pounds heavier. I think it may be impossible to share my entire experience with you. Everything was exquisitely new and exciting and beautiful and delicious. My brain did its very best soak it all up. It, my brain that is, did a pretty good job too. As a result, I have so many images and memories and tastes associated with my trip that I can’t possibly share them all! I shall have to pick and choose and that just seems insufficient. Whine, whine. I know. Suck it up and tell us something, you say. Ok, here goes.

After landing in Bangkok and meeting up with Hilary, my fabulous travelling companion J, we explored the city. Bangkok is huge city of concrete overpasses, neon signs, and traffic. People come and go to work dressed neatly and fashionably. High-heels are the norm for women.You may get horribly ripped off by a Taxi driver but the stranger who goes out of her way to call your hostel for directions more than makes up for it.

Entertainment and shopping are both very serious endeavors. The white tiled shopping centers were overwhelming and overpriced but the 6th floor movie theater was fabulous. My first big-screen movie since Peace Corps was, of course, Harry Potter. For some cheaper shopping, a wide variety of street vendors line the streets, spilling out from the market areas. Behind this first file of commercialism, Thai massage parlors, Silk vendors 7 11s and restaurants repeat up and down the streets. I’m not complaining; I literally ate my way around Bangkok. I particularly enjoyed the Pad Thai, the coconut curries, and the watermelon smoothies.

The public transportation system includes a ferry, a subway, and a sky-train (a raised light-rail system). All of which are easy to navigate for two reasons: first, everything is written in English and Thai and second, everyone speaks English.

Monks, in varying shades of orange, dot the city like moving traffic cones concentrating around the hundreds of sparkling gold and red temples. Not only did we make the obligatory visit to the Royal Palace and surrounding temples, we ascended a particularly fun one entitled ‘The Golden Mount.’ My favorite place, though, was much more humble and unassuming. My first day in Bangkok as I circled our hostel, I found a medium sized park right smack in the middle of the city. The park was luxuriantly green. People dotted the banks of the pond, stretched out on woven mats. I couldn’t help returning to this park for my last day in Bangkok out of some desire for closure.

After a couple days in Bangkok, we headed north to Sukhothai, one of the really old cities from the time when Thailand was Siam. I think it dates back to the 13th and 14th centuries. Here we rented bicycles and biked for a good four hours around this ancient city of red, eroded brick and smooth grey Buddha statues. It was amazingly beautiful. I can’t describe it. See for yourself!

Then we headed south to one of Thailand’s famous beaches, Ko Samui. After a 9 hour bus ride, a 2 hour ferry ride, and a 45 minute van ride, we arrived at our hostel. For the next four days we lived in a lush green paradise of palm trees and jungle rising out of post-card perfect white sand and blue water. We roused ourselves from the lethargy of hot sun and beautiful beach only once for a touristy day trip of intense exercise. We were taken on a tourist boat to some of the smaller islands where we kayaked, hiked, and swam. It was hard to go back to Bangkok after paradise. Pictures forthcoming.

Back in Bangkok for the last couple of days, we did another day trip to the famous floating market. Although admittedly touristy and overpriced, the floating market was fascinating. We bought a variety of strange fruits and sat to watch the long thin paddle boats of merchandise and tourists pass by.

Too soon it was over. I was back in Turkmenistan, speaking Turkmen, sweating on the public buses, and meeting acquaintances in the streets. Back to the familiar. And I realized the difference between visiting another country, and ‘the Peace Corps experience.’ While you are visiting a country, while you are seeing the sights, while you are a full-blown tourist, you have choices. So many choices. There is an entire industry designed to provide you, the traveler, with a plethora of choices.

Do I eat at McDonald’s, Mr. Bun, the clean-looking Thai restaurant on the corner, the sushi place, the street vendor’s booth, the Mexican restaurant, the Chinese restaurant, the crepe stand (say yes to the crepe stand!!!), the Pizza Hut, or the bar? Do I take a Taxi, a bus, the sky-train, a Tuk-Tuk (motorcycle-cart creation), a bicycle, the ferry, or do I book everything with a tourist agency and let them decide? Do I want to spend money on floral print beach dresses, hand-woven hemp dragons, colorful carved candles, Thai silks, hot sauce, unknown fruits, knock-off purses, or movie tickets? I think you get the idea. Choices.

In this daunting world of choices, you construct a mini-world that you are comfortable in. For example, today we tried the crepe stand for the first time. It was delicious. Success! So we were brave and tried some green and red, unidentifiable, tentacled fruits. Some were good, some not so good. Unfortunately, we were ripped off by the vendor. Disgruntled and a tad bit discouraged, next we choose to retreat into a movie theater or to our hotel room where we can disengage entirely from the country we are visiting and recharge our batteries.

In Peace Corps, our choices are far more limited. We live in places bereft of tourism and in places were normal average people simply don’t have choices. We do our best to live like the normal average people. Money, of course, opens up your choices a bit, but not as much as you might think. Furthermore, PCVs aren’t exactly rolling in the dough. Nor can we disengage from our environment. Ok, that’s not exactly correct. We can disengage. And we do. We hole up in our rooms and watch movies or gather in groups to have a beer. This is necessary for our mental sanity. But, it is our job to remain engaged with our environment: to talk to the old women on the bus, to answer the Taxi driver’s hundreds of questions about Obama, the America, or our marital status, to eat meals with our meals with our host families, to accept the endless wedding invitations from our students, our neighbors, our co-workers, and to reach out to our students day after day in the classroom. And doing these things, remaining engaged, is what truly gives us satisfaction, a sense of accomplishment. However, these things are exhausting.

Perhaps I am way off. Perhaps after 10 months of living in Turkmenistan (yes, it has been 10 months!), I merely don’t see the choices anymore. And for the record, I am not saying traveling is better or worse than may daily life. I’m simply trying to make a distinction, significant or not, I don’t know. Suffice it to say, Thailand was a mix of wonderfully new and wonderfully comfortable things. I feel rested and glad to be back. Bring on the bus women!

Summer Camp Extravaganza

On Friday I returned from a 10 day summer camp extravaganza in the wonderful sea-side town of Turkmenbasy. To give you a sneak-preview of my experience, I did the following during my time there:

Caught a craw-dad with someone else’s shoe.
Celebrated the Fourth of July with delicious veggie burgers and homemade French fries.
Saved an old man’s flotation device from drifting off into the horizon. Mad lifeguard skills!
Slept on the front porch of my friend’s house to take advantage of the sea breeze (ie I looked like a hobo)
Took 1.5 real showers in ten days.
Took a really incredibly slow train overnight there and back during which I answered approximately 3.5 million questions put to me by inquisitive Turkmen.
Learned to cook eggplant.
Made awesome looking crowns (for camper of the day) out of trash.
Danced the cupid shuffle. Repeatedly.
Invented a sport: Bottle Hockey.
Paid only 3000 old manat (20 cents) per Taxi. So cheap!
Walked and walked and walked on the beach.
Swam with snakes.
Had an extravagant sea-weed war.

Ok. Perhaps that list was not a good idea. I feel like I’ve told you the punch line before the joke! Anyway, those were the highlights. Now, let me follow up by saying that Turkmenbashy is a whole different world from Ashgabat. The sea-blown neutral tones of Turkmenbasy were a welcome change from the busy streets and white buildings of Ashgabat. T-bashy fills in three little niches in the hills that line the banks of the Caspian Sea. To get from niche to niche, you flag a taxi and pray as your taxi (inevitably a old, white Lada) attempts to hall you up and over the lip of each niche. Travelling tip: Lean forward. Then, your taxi driver kills the ignition to cost down the other side. Travelling tip 2: Lean backward.

The town is sprawling. Although there are a number of high occupancy apartment complexes, there are many single family houses that climb up the sides of the low mountains. Malory, the volunteer who invited me to teach in Tbasy, lives up toward the top of one of these hills. It is quite picturesque. And yes, I will try to post pictures soon!

As I said, I rode a a very, very slow overnight train to get to Tbashy. I doubt very seriously that the train ever hit 40 miles per hour for the entire 14 hour trip. I was told later that it must go slow or the sand from the Garagum desert that blows on the tracks will derail the train. I was also told that the train is obligated to stop for anyone anywhere in the desert. I don’t know if this one is true but this would account for the innumerable inexplicable stops along the way.

Finally, I arrived and was met at the train station by the smiling faces of Malory and Chase. Megan, the fourth volunteer working this camp, was waiting for us when we arrived at Malory’s house.

Camp began on Monday June 29th and went through July 8th. We soon settled into a routine. I was the first to wake up each morning. My first duty was fetching water from the outside faucet in a metal bucket. J Despite its location, Tbashy has limited clean water and we had to ration while we were there. Hence the 1.5 showers. With water from this bucket, I cooked up either oatmeal or rice pudding and stirred up some Nescafe.

The others trickled into the kitchen and we groggily did last minute planning. We walked down the hill to catch a Taxi from the main street to the language center where Malory works. Around 9, our forty campers, ages 9-14 began to trickle in. Day 1, we divided them up into four teams and they competed throughout the week in an English World Cup. The teams included the US, England, Canada, and Ireland because collectively we knew how to draw these flags from memory. Each volunteer generally worked with one team at a time and the teams rotated. Chase and Megan did activities at the pool and Malory and I stayed at the center.

At the center, we kicked of the day by announcing camper of the day and playing some game we dredged up from our collective childhoods. These included but were not limited to: Mother May I, Charades, and Red Light, Green Light. Then we split the kids by team. Over the 10 days, I taught Yoga, played kickball, did all sorts of relay races, helped organize a paper quilt project, played Bingo, created and held a scavenger hunt, and lost my voice completely.

Ah! And the sport I invented! In T-stan, as in many other countries, drinks such as fanta, coke, sprite, and fizzy lemonade are purchased in one liter plastic bottles. Malory, like many good Turkmen, saved her bottles for buying milk and yogurt. Towards the end of the week, our bouncy ball had deflated and we pondered worriedly what sorts of sports were possible that we hadn’t previously played. And it struck me, bottles + deflated ball = bottle hockey! With the older kids, it was a definite success. Kids, feel free to try this one at home. J

So to sum it up, all of you who have been waiting for the typical Peace Corps experience, there it was.

Now I’m back in Ashgabat. I am spent this past weekend helping my host mom can everything from tomato sauce to cherry liquor, going to a magnificent wedding were again I was required to give a toast, hanging out with my friend Annie who is in town from Lebop (region in T-stan), and looking forward to Thailand!

Yes, that’s right. I’m going to Thailand next weekend. Thailand!

Till next time, I miss you guys and stay cool (literally and figuratively)!

Summer in the City

Yesterday I saw the most amazing thing. First, I’ll set the scene. I now live in a Soviet style apartment complex. Read: big, square, and concrete with brightly decorated clothing lines extending from all floors in all directions. I live on the first floor of this building. The first floor has a number of perks. Most importantly, we have a deck. If any one is interested in exporting some cracker-barrel rocking chairs, please let me know. We also have a small yard. Here my two host sisters spend the evening hours concocting delicious meals of mud and grass. The gate to this yard is one in a long line of green gates belonging to other first floor apartment dwellers.

Outside of this line of green metal, gobs of neighborhood kids play endless games of soccer in the street. Inevitably the boys play and the girls watch. At best, the girls are assigned to the unsavory role of goalkeeper (never goalie because goalie=naked in Russian!). The sidelines are delineated by the older boys who sit in their pristine Ladas or Toyotas, with the windows down, blasting Russian rap. Leaving my house feels at times like running the gauntlet. So yesterday, I emerged from my green gate as usual into a game of soccer. My presence, however, went unnoticed for perhaps the first time. In the middle of the field a woman towered over the kids. She, like nearly all Russian and Turkmen women in Ashgabat, was perfectly done up. Her tunic style blouse was powerfully striped with red, yellow, and blue and belted in the middle. Underneath black tights hugged her skinny legs. Her blond hair was pulled back and the gold molding of her sunglasses flashed in the sun. Her heels lifted her a full five inches off the ground. This 40 year old woman hung for a second over the soccer ball and then streaked forward. Her shot was strong and true. GOAL!!! Watch out USA! When Turkmenistan does eventually put together a women’s soccer team, they will be a powerhouse. Years of wearing high heels does wonders for your leg muscles.

So, I apologize for the belatedness of this post. Perhaps because I feel pretty assimilated, my life generally seems less noteworthy than before. Not in the negative sense but rather in the sense that I have settled into daily and weekly routines. So here is a quick update on the big events in my life during the last couple of months.

I have begun to do Yoga. Yup, that’s right. I never did it in the US but now I go twice a week to Yoga class in Turkmenistan. One of the wives of the Peace Corps staff holds free Yoga class in the office every Tuesday and Thursday. I was convinced to go and now am hooked. It is so freakin’ relaxing! For any of you out there who need some stress relief or who have been pondering how to fill your summer months, I really do recommend it.

Two weeks until finals. I’m excited because I need a mental rest but a tad disappointed because I feel like I was just beginning to really bond with the students in some of my classes and now they will move on to become third year students. As I teach only second year classes, I won’t see them as often after the summer holidays. My hopes rest on the fact that they will come back to attend my after-school clubs. During finals I hope to daily or maybe tri-weekly computer trainings for my teachers.

I moved! In case you didn’t catch that from my first little anecdote, I have changed my domicile. I now live with a single mom (her husband lives in the US) and two girls, Mahre and Nabot, ages 6 and 10. This new place is more spacious and much closer to my work. I also have much more freedom to cook for myself. Most importantly, I now have a 20 minute bus ride to work instead of a 45-1 hr bus ride. I am quite content.

In other news, the summer is a coming. I am frightened. Ok, that is a slight understatement I am scared for a number of reasons. First and foremost, the heat. URGH. The heat is already pretty intense and promises to creep up to 115 F before too long. During a 15 minute bus ride, I made the mistake of sitting down. The hot of the plastic seat seeped quickly through the cloth of my skirt made the sweat roll down my legs. I have learned that it is far better to have even the possibility of air circulation on all sides. Other things I have learned/am learning about summer in Ashgabat:
1) It is absolutely necessary to gravitate towards the shade. I now plot my path to and from the bus stop, to and from the bazaar, to and from anywhere and everywhere, by following the irregular splotches of dark on the sidewalk.
2) One must choose the side of the bus that will receive the least amount of direct sunlight over the course of the ride. This can be difficult to calculate because buses have this little habit of turning.
3) Choose articles of clothing by comparing thickness of material. I have been encouraged to buy transparent material for summer but can’t quite bring myself to do this. Wait a couple months and check back on this one.
4) It is never too hot to drink tea.
5) Purple sandals are all the craze.
6) If I run after 7 am, I turn a deep shade of red. This frightens any and everyone that happens to see me. I generally try to avoid this.

In parting I will entice you with my summer plans. June, as I have said, I will hopefully be doing some teacher training. The first half of July, I hope to help another volunteer out with her Water Camp on the Caspian Sea in Turkmenbashy. All those years and years of teaching swim lessons and lifeguarding seemed to have earned me a place at this dream of a camp. During the second half of July, I hope to head over to Thailand. This seems to be one of the more popular vacation spots for Peace Corps volunteers from Central Asia. It is close, plane tickets are cheap, living expenses are cheap, there are mountains, there are beaches, and there is Bangkok. August will be intensive Russian training, lesson planning and gathering resources for the new school year, and potentially traveling some within Turkmenistan. Then September will be back to school! All of these plans, however, hinge on my ability to withstand the heat. Wish me luck!

Write me or e-mail me! I miss you guys!

London Pics!

5. Me and Hilary in the London Eye Ferris Wheel.
4. Camden Town markets and bazaars.
3. Houses of Parliament
2. Hilary and I waiting for the tube.
1. London Eye!