News from the 91.

Day 37(?)
Greetings from what I believe is the 91st district, but I honestly still don't understand what's the 82nd and what's 91, etc.. Today I went to the Turkish air office to see about prices for Dubai - for the 17th of December. I'm looking forward to this trip. On the way I ran into Aziza, my new friend from the wedding I went to with Mahmud and Christine in Hissar a week ago. Aziza was heading in the opposite direction, saw me from the "marshrutka" she was on, and jumped off and ran to me. I love having new friends! She joined me on my adventure to the Turkish air office, then we refilled my mobile phone credits, and ordered 7 oshe-reshtes for tomorrow from the Iranian restaurant. I don't know who's going to eat the 7 oshe-reshtes, but I look forward to it nonetheless. Aziza wanted a photo with me in front of The Big Somoni statue, so we got some hideous photos - from a man with a camera who stands out there offering photos to people. You'd think it would be for tourists, but actually Tajiks love to have their photos taken there. While waiting for them to get developed, I ran into Anna, an American girl who was studying here with me last summer. She's now working for IREX, on what I guess is a three year contract. Three years in Dushanbe!! What a commitment! - Although, I can't say I'm not jealous. Aziza and I then went to window shop for shoes, and the shoe salesman as soon as Aziza walked in with a photo album she had just bought for her sister, he asked her what was inside. I wasn't paying attention, I just saw that she gave him all her photos of her sister's recital and he was so friendly about it, I thought they were relatives - especially because he told her she could have any pair of shoes she wanted for free. haha. Wherever you go, Tajiks will show strangers their photos. Last week, a boy came up to me on the street and started showing me the photo he had been looking at with his friend. Anyway, so Aziza and I decided to head back to her place to cook pelmeni together, but I was chastised by my host mother because all her sisters were at the grandma's havli, and I was expected there somehow. So, I went home, and off we went by marshrutka number 8 to the grandma's house. Life is not soo interesting, otherwise. I decided against going to the mountain village this weekend for two weddings, because next weekend there will be another wedding - and I couldn't imagine going two weekends in a row to the village. Tomorrow, instead I will be in Dushanbe and will go with the host mother Mavluda to her co-worker's daughter's wedding. My host brother Firuz (one of four host brothers) has returned home from boarding school, and only goes to school during the day now - because he punched a teacher in the face. I was very upset at this, and I told him that no matter how much a teacher bothers you, there's no excuse for punching him. Firuz replied that the man was horrible and had been "acting like a woman". I got even more upset at this, and asked what that meant - to which he responded that the man talked so much all the time and was constantly nagging, that he was like a woman. There was nothing I could possibly say, as the conversation was getting nowhere. I feel bad for my host mother that her two middle sons have somehow become hooligans. A few days earlier I had asked the mother why she had been yelling at Firuz, to which she replied that "he was little by little becoming a hooligan at school" - hitting a teacher is not "little by little"!!
Other news is that I have recently hurt my foot - and by hurt, I mean that three days ago, I fell asleep on the couch in the room where I sleep, and when I woke up, I for some reason walked to the door, and without turning on the light, returned to the couch - and just then - I stepped completely down onto my thick stud earring, which went into my foot. I had to pull it out, in the dark, and then I started calling "ocha ocha" (mom, mom in Tojik). The third oldest son Faiz, who has been ignoring me for about two weeks came to the room, but I didn't want his help - so I insisted that he get "Ocha" (which is now a really funny story for the family). The mother came, and seriously, I never thought you could bleed so much from stepping on an earring - but I was!
I put "spirit" on it, applying it with classic fresh Tajik cotton, and then bacitracin. Now, it more or less is OK, except I have a big bruise on my foot and a little red hole where it went in. The men in the family were really having fun with it. The father and Mahmud were like - "we better call 911"...."how long will it take for 911 to get here to Dushanbe??" Then they decided I should call 03, which is the 911 equivalent. They said that we'll have to lie though because if we tell them on the phone a woman has stepped on an earring, they will come two weeks later. Then the father started in (and it's lasted for two days) that I have to apply the best medicine in the world - which is spit! Everytime I have anything that itches or hurts, he very seriously tells me to spit on myself, and waits to see what my reaction is. The last time he did this, I said, that since I'm American, my saliva can never be "the best Tajik medicine". He's also taken to joking that Baljovon pears are the medicine for all illnesses - but this I believe and don't get annoyed at, because I have never tasted better pears in all my life - in fact - after eating Baljovon pears I can't even eat regular Tajik pears - and for those of you familiar with Central Asian vegetables and fruit, the regular Tajik pears are still a thousand times tastier than anything you can buy anywhere in the US!
I finally spoke with my Grandma back in the US (Nebraska) - apparently, she has scheduled a second hip surgery!!
Tomorrow is pay day at work - I look forward to buying a sweater, some warmer shoes, a winter jacket, and socks. It's still about 70 degrees every day, but I fear the coming winter - especially since I'm moving to Almaty!
Lots of Love to Everyone!!