A Sunday...

Sunday, September 27th, marks my first service in a Russian Orthodox Church. The service lasted about two and a half hours in the golden clad church. Three volunteers (Erica, Charlie, and Janelle) and I decided to attend the service after being politely welcomed by Vladimir, one of the church seniors.

Being part of a Russian Orthodox is a serious affair. Many chants of Lord have mercy follow respective blessings or scripture readings from the priest. Heads down in respect as the numerous offering candles flicker during the service. All women wear head scarves and throughout the service, individuals came up to kiss a holy book in glass casing. The congregation members and leaders greeted us Americans with warmth and openness.
The Patriarchs knew beforehand that us Americans were planning to attend and they came prepared. The priest seated us near the altar. As the Russian babushkas (grandmas) meandered in, an altar boy gave us a handout with the whole service translated into English. Convenient, huh. Erica and I still got lost in translation about ten minutes into the service. The priest though (God bless him) read the Gospel in English because of our presence. About an hour into the service, Lana (an author called in by the priest) translated the sermon for us in bits and pieces. Ironically, Lana claims herself to be a ‘faithful spirit’ with no attachments to any Christian denomination and we found this out during holy communion. After the service ended, we met with the Patriarchs and they briefly explained the Orthodox philosophy and checked to see if we were not missionaries. They stopped once they saw we were not going to convert but they still invited us to lunch with them. Over Russian cabbage soup, cream rice and delicious Georgian wine, we conversed for over an hour. Right now, we are all invited to attend every Sunday and to celebrate the church’s 111th birthday on October 14th. Another eventful weekend day in mysterious Kazakhstan.

Changes....

Teaching at Terrishscova School got off to an unpredictable start. Instead of teaching ten kids solo, I co-taught twenty six 7th graders with a fellow volunteer, Charlie. We had to improvise and it all flowed well. Kazakhstani middle schoolers are relatively controlled when compared with their American peers. Charlie and I had to encourage them to converse rather than prevent them from erupting into mayhem.

Ecik can be fun despite its smallness. It can be explosive though. The same night I went out for some fun with the host daughter, son-in-law, and their friends, a local shot some rubber bullets at some volunteers at another café. Thankfully, it was not fatal and none of the volunteers were hurt too seriously to have to be sent to foreign doctors. This jolted me a bit and is a reminder of the precarious situation us Kaz-21 volunteers can be in due to our present inexperience.

Homesickness sets in. That’s why the past hopeful days with teaching, hiking, and domestic time goes far in keeping me afloat in an emotional sea. I am eager to continue classroom teaching and find out where Peace Corps will place me for the legendary Kazakhstani winter.

Sol Food...

Pics from the Ecik's group first visit to the Big Apple, Almaty.

There are not many spices in Kazakhstan so sol (salt) is the condiment of choice. Hence, sol food.

Teaching is about to begin and I'm psyched. Been out of the classroom for about three months and am excited to learn and laugh as a teacher again. Presently, I shall co-teach 6th and 7th graders at Terraschova school. The students love practicing their English hellos and goodbyes as we volunteers walk down the maroon halls. Six of my students who I've known for two days already know where I live. As I showed them a few pictures, all of them preferred to check out Singapore over California. It might be the palms and beaches.

Much love to those in the States, Vietnam, and Singapore.

Settling in...

Pics: Kazakhstan's Constitution Day (August 30th)

Kazakhstan is beginning to settle into me. It’s not a holiday or a semester abroad. I’ll be here for the next few years and Kazakhstan sure is different from California and Singapore. I love tropical weather. Sweating in my Hawaiin shirts brings me a sort of pleasure. Now, they will be replaced by windbreakers and thermal underwear. It’s summer and as I look at the snowy Alta Shun Mountains on my daily morning walks to class, I sense the unpredictability of my nearby reality.

My host family’s son-in-law (Alidin) invited me to watch his team’s soccer game at a nearby village. Soccer is a man’s affair here in Kazakhstan. There was only one woman at the local game and I am quite sure I was the only out of towner. Though I spoke to Alidin on the way over to the village, few words were shared once he took off sprinting onto the field. It was somewhat awkward as the locals chatted it up and I kept my lips sealed. My limited Russian did not go far. So, to fit in, I just stood by the locals as the game begun. Day by day, Ecik becomes less foreign to me.