Back in NYC

Hello all! I'm back in the States, NYC!! I had a lovely time in the UAE, and I look forward to posting photos and telling you stories of my visit to Dubai, Sharjah, and Fujeirah. The day before I left - the 27th of December - I went on a typical tourist "Desert Safari" - which included dune bashing (driving really fast and crazy through sand dunes and hills), sand boarding (which is going down sand hills on a snow board), and a barbeque with henna painting, camel riding, and a belly dance performance. I'm a little shy to admit I take such touristy trips, but it was fun, and I know now that when I go back to Dubai - hopefully I can take longer trips of the parts I really enjoyed. I definitely found sand boarding fun, because - it doesn't hurt when you fall --- the sand is like air...

Below there are three photos: The first I am getting henna painting on my arm...Can you believe I never noticed the little boy looking on until I got this photo from Ali? In the next photo, I am sand boarding (falling down that is) and - you see! - I have no shame to put such a humiliating photo of me on the internet -- perhaps one in ten were so uncoordinated that they fell....sand boarding is not so difficult really...but I was apparently only looking at my feet, and not straight ahead!
The third photo is our group that drove together in the desert safari - we had a wonderful time. They were German- from Frankfurt.

Hello all,
Greetings from The Springs Neighborhood of Dubai. I arrived last night after a twenty-six hour journey Dushanbe. I think no person goes from Dushanbe to Dubai in the way that I did -- and all it says is that I am a crazy traveler. On the 27th, I woke up at 2:30am to get to the airport in Dushanbe. The whole family woke up to say goodbye, and six packed into Sharaf's car to drive me at 3am. It was really sweet. They walked me up to the front door, and then Firuz handed over my bags. The flight left at 6 am, and six hours later or so, I arrived in Istanbul. I didn't check my bags all the way through because I don't trust airlines to check bags properly when you change airlines and have two stop overs, so in Istanbul I exited, got my passport stamped and picked up my luggage. I waited until 11:30 for the check in for Qatar Airways to open. When I got to the desk, the woman said, where are you flying, and I said, "Dubai" - she checked the computer and said, "Oh, you mean Abu Dhabi"- at this I was a little confused, but didn't think about it much - and was quite sleepy. I almost got charged 400 dollars because Qatar had a stricter weight policy for luggage than Turkish. In the end, the manager took pity on me and let me go, but originally the woman at the check in desk handed me back my passport and told me that I should get out of line until I pay the money.

The qatar airways flight was great - even better than Swiss. The seats were spacious, the food was great and the service was really excellent. They also had really good movies on the personal tv screens. I watched Darjeeling Limited, which was a tad silly - and I didn't really understand the point of the movie. I have never seen such friendly hostesses, even if they forgot to serve me a drink and my first seat's entertainment center was broken. I understand their five star customer satisfaction rating, and I highly recommend them.

Anyway, I had my second stop over in Doha, which was a modern looking aiport, but very crowded. At this point, I look at the departures screen and realize that there are equal numbers of flights going to both dubai and to abu dhabi. It suddenly occurred to me that in my booking I accidentally reserved a flight to abu dhabi and was actually supposed to be going to Dubai....which would be especially unfortunate because Mahdi and Reza were supposed to be waiting with the rental car in Dubai and NOT in Abu Dhabi. Even more unfortunate was the short time I had in Doha so that I couldn't get to a phone to call Reza to let him know I was going to the wrong airport. I did though find a free Samsung internet post, which gave me the chance to at least find Reza's phone number. I got on the plane, not completely sure that they wouldn't be in Abu Dhabi, but nevertheless when I arrived, I discovered that no planes were arriving from Tehran, and sure enough Reza wasn't at the airport waiting. The arrival and passport check at Abu Dhabi is a zoo. It's filled with migrant workers who need work visas. I was really happy to be American - as we don't need visas here, and I could avoid, after twenty three hours on the road that awful "visa delivery" line.
I went to a little convenience store in the airport and had a big negotiation with the information desk about what I should do - I got a phone card and they nicely let me use the info desk phone with a card, so I called Reza and told him I was in Abu Dhabi (150 kilometers from Dubai city airport). His exclamation "Oh my God" made me exclaim "Oh my God" --- but in the end, it wasn't soo bad, except for my exhaustion - I got in a taxi - unfortunately a private taxi and put up with the 75$ price --- considering the distance, it's not sooo exorbitant. The awful part was that 4 kilomters from the airport we got stuck in the worst traffic everywhere, because yesterday was the start of the religious holiday. Reza called about twenty times to the driver's phone to see how we could take so much time to get past four kilometers. I think it was 27 hours before we got to Reza's pretty house and I finally got to sleep.
Today we went to the Ibn Battuta Mall, which was modeled after every regional architecture that the traveler visited. A stunning mall --- but everywhere in Dubai is a stunning mall!! My favorite section was depictive of Tunisia, where the ceiling is painted like a starry sky and the buildings seemed like a street. Many of the stores were the same that you would find in our home malls - like Forever 21 or Claire's. Some were more unique though, with Indian styles and fashions, but everything was VERY expensive. I'm going to look for the old bazaar where I hope to find antiques.
Now we are sitting and watching a bit of TV - there's a movie called The Message- about the life of the prophet, and we are talking about the Iranian President's Hajj trip.
See you!!

PHOTOS of Interest for TODAY:

Here are Nargis and Galya, my lovely coworkers and friends. This photo was taken today at the office.

QUOTE FOR TODAY: (my apologies for its length, but I find it interesting)

LAMB: Why should we try to prevent other countries from having what we have?
BOLTON: Because not all countries are equal. And some countries are real threats, particularly countries run by governments like Kim Jong Il’s in North Korea, or the autocratic theocracy in Tehran. Their possession of nuclear weapons poses a threat to us, to our friends and neighbors, and international peace and security.
That’s why it’s important to try to prevent these governments from getting nuclear weapons in the first place, because once they have them, the calculus changes dramatically.
LAMB: But don’t we have a different attitude toward India and Pakistan and Israel when it comes to nuclear weapons, compared to what we think of Korea and Tehran?
BOLTON: Well, I think North Korea is different from Israel. And I think that the idea that nuclear weapons in the hands of - all states are fundamentally the same is just wrong.
I trust Israel with nuclear weapons the same way I trust Great Britain with nuclear weapons.

.... (and)....

LAMB: What do you think would happen if we attacked Iran?
BOLTON: I think the consequences would be negative. I think the risks are high.
But again, the alternative is not between the world as it is now versus the use of military force against Iran. It’s the use of military force against Iran versus a world where Iran has nuclear weapons. It would not look at all like Iraq. That’s not the kind of operation that would be required. I wish we weren’t at this point. I think we made a mistake in following four-plus years of European diplomacy. We should have been working much harder, much longer ago to help support the dissident elements inside Iran, which are very substantial. This regime is more fragile than people think it is. And I think that’s actually the preferred result in Iran, is regime change, where a new government - hopefully, perhaps, a democratic government - comes in and says, ”This pursuit of nuclear weapons is really not making us safer. We’re better off giving it up.” We’ve seen that circumstance in countries like South Africa during the transition from the apartheid government to a democratic South Africa. The same possibility exists in Iran.

It was on this topic that I wrote my paper for the Iranian MA degree.

(the above portion of an interview with Bolton comes from: C-Span's Q&A, available at: http://www.q-and-a.org/Transcript/?ProgramID=1153)

Website of Interest: (the world's smallest political quiz, and as far as I'm concerned, it's completely accurate!....)

http://www.theadvocates.org/quiz.html

In the basement of my office building is the best bakery in the world - and today was my last foreseeable Napoleon cake --- perhaps only for the basement cakes do I wish to stay in Dushanbe! The locals have no idea that the best Tajik cakes are made in the basement of all basements, surrounded by construction materials and rubbish. The first time we appeared in oven rooms asking for cake, I was terrified of what kind of product could come from the basement of this horrid building. Almost every day, I went with Nargis (see above) to find some kind of Napoleon cake or Honey cake...

Pelmeni soup

Today's Quote: "America has prospered and flourished because God has put a hedge of protection around us. This has been a special country to Him. It's been a land of His choosing. And we need as a people to turn from the way we're going and to acknowledge His sovereignty and to humbly beseech Him for protection from what may be coming from those who are our enemies and those who wish to destroy us." Pat Robertson (The Roots of Terrorism and a Strategy for Victory, avilable at: http://www.patrobertson.com/speeches/TerrorismEconomicClub.asp)

Today's Website I find interesting:
www.democracynow.org

Yesterday's lecture on human rights and terrorism went well. I really enjoyed myself, and I felt that the students got a lot out of the discussion. At the end, they had many questions, and apparently they did not want to leave the room. Unfortunately, I will have to give a similar lecture again on Saturday. Afterwards, my office will have a going away party for me. I'm really sad to be leaving. Otherwise, yesterday was funny - I had for lunch at the summer school building "pelmeni" (little ravioli-like things) soup, which was delicious. I then went to visit my friend and we went for a small dinner at a new restaurant near my house called Palma. They didn't have any of the dishes I wanted, so I just ordered Pelmeni soup again, even though I had had it for lunch. When I got home an hour or so later, I was getting ready for bed, when my host mother came to my room and said, "Aren't you going to eat any dinner?" I told her that I had already eaten. She became very sad and said that she had specifically made Pelmeni soup for me...I told her that I had already had Pelmeni soup twice -- but this didn't satisfy her. I agreed to eat 2 pelmenis. Instead, she came out with a big bowl and insisted that I eat all of it. Three times pelmeni soup in one day!! My coworkers have been laughing about this today! :)
One more working day here in Tajikistan! Too much to do before I leave.....Help!

Going to Summer school today!

Quote for the Day: "In Pakistan," he says, “I met a family that had lived in America. They’d worked as dog washers.” He tries to say the words in En-glish: “dog wah sir.” We keep eating, pondering the absurdity that, somewhere in the world, it could be a man’s job to wash a dog. “That’s what’s wrong with America,” Kubad announces. “When a dog is dirty, you think it’s a problem. When a real problem comes, you don’t know what to do.” (from: A Detainee's Story: The Man who has been to America" in Mother Jones at: http://www.motherjones.com/news/feature/2006/07/guantanamo.html

Website of Interest: Informed Comment, Thoughts on the Middle East, History, and Religion, by Juan Cole. http://www.juancole.com/

Today, I will be heading out with colleagues from the Bureau of Human Rights to attend their summer school in Varzob. I know it's not summer anymore --- but there is a continuation of their summer school in the winter months, and they still refer to it as summer school training...
I will be giving a presentation about respect for human rights in the war on terror, specifically in the U.S. I look forward particularly to the discussion we will have about behavior pattern recognition and finger printing. I also look forward to the lunch that they cook there, over an open fire. Perhaps I will take some photos.

Interesting Picture:

Here is the main tea house, Chaikhona, in Dushanbe...Called Rohat. The service is horrible, and sometimes the food inedible, but I still go about twice a month for cheap soups and Plof.

Quote for the Day: "Every week, Ty Pennington brings the American Dream to a deserving family. What a freakin' jerk." (Jon Mooallem, "Schlock and Awwww: Commericializing Altruism" at: http://www.motherjones.com/arts/feature/2007/11/schlock-and-awwww.html

Website for the Day: (with thanks to Max for bringing this to our attention:) http://www.usatoday.com/news/politics/election2008/candidate-match-game.htm

---> Less than a week left in Dushanbe. I don't want to leave!! I'm really used to the life here...

The Iranians have invited me to come for a week or so it seems (after getting the run around for the visa for months)...but Dubai is already set, so I won't be going probably.

Had a typical Tajik breakfast this morning -- "Ord-e Biryon" - "fried flour" - which is really a misnomer because they take flour, fry it an a LOT of oil, and then mix in milk...it's like a thin porridge that you can even drink. It's eaten very hot and in large quantities, sometimes mixing in pieces of bread. I used to never eat the fried flour breakfast until I went to the village last month, and learned the secret is to fry the oil, letting it burn for a long time, to get a good flavor. The house will stink to no end, but the result is at least edible.

I hope to be snap happy with my old digital camera for the rest of the week that I am here.....

Write comments everyone!!! I have no idea how many of you are reading, and don't forget to say who you are!

Interesting website for today: www.opencongress.org
Interesting quote for the day: Thomas Friedman: "9/11 has made us stupid...[and] we can't afford to keep being this stupid."

-->It's been raining for two days here in Dushanbe. I hope this makes the city a little greener. In one week, I will be leaving for Dubai -- for vacation. After that, I may be back in Iran it seems, although I was originally planning to be in the U.S. for the new year. I'm still waiting on news from Kazakhstan for the next semester.
This past weekend in Dushanbe, I only read over IREX applications, as I'm a reader for their MUSKIE fellowship program -- a fun task, reading about why Kazakh students might wish to visit the U.S. for grad school in all areas, like economics, IR, and library science.
For two days in a row, I ate steamed pumpkin dumplings -- the first day I made them with the family, on the second day, I went to Nargis' house (a great friend here), and she just happened to have made them for me as well, because she knows I like them, and she's such a sweetheart. I will attempt to make them in the U.S. when I get back, if there are any fresh squash or pumpkins available....
I've learned a bit of cooking while I've been here -- albeit Tajik village cooking...
Nargis lives near the Sakhovat Bazaar -- so, in the rain, I walked around the bazaar and eventually bought socks and a pair of flexible chinese black shoes for 8 dollars. Nargis lives in a great soviet style flat...still with the original kitchen designs and everything! Unfortunately, they are going to re-furnish and repair the whole flat by spring.

Mr. Splashy Pants!

If you want to know why I titled this blog's entry, Mr. Splashy Pants, check out the following website (courtesy of Julia): http://www.greenpeace.org/international/campaigns/oceans/whaling/great-whale-trail/gwt-vote?utm_sour
I think the voting will be going on until the 7th of Dec.

Otherwise, I'm trying to decide if I really am a horrible blogger, or if my lack of regular blogging is due to the fact that time in Dushanbe doesn't exist -- sort of a twilight zone. I had absolutely NO idea that it has been since November 19 that I last posted. I have been quite busy with work and life developments in Dushanbe.
Fred, my classmate from Grad school in Geneva has been here - she has hired me as an editor for a project (of our grad school) that will publish a book on dialogue between the government and the religious opposition. It's interesting reading, for the most part, but it's about 200 pages of work. In any case, sadly enough, Fred left for Geneva last week -- I was sad to see her go, as she's such nice company here. She had a small going away get together at the Irish pub - which oddly enough has no beer on tap, but hey, this is Dushanbe - you can't expect the world! It's enough that there's even a pub at all in this city. I had pringles and sprite when I went -- far better than Baltikas, which you can get everywhere.
This weekend I crashed what I hope will be the last wedding of my stay here. I made everyone happy too, by dancing tajik style "with my arms" -- Tajik dance is very busy with the arms twisting and hans circling. There's next to no hip movements...I have no idea how many weddings I've been to, but I have to admit that this last wedding was by far the most exhausting, because we left the house at 11 am, picked up other passengers, and arrived at the restaurant before 1pm. During most the of meal there, a little girl (maybe four years) kept getting in trouble with one of the male cousins helping with arrangements because she would keep running out onto the dance floor, where they were walking through to carry the food to the guests. He kept bringing her back and putting her on my lap...as if I were her mother and responsible for her. This brat insisted, however, on squirming off me and going back to her business -- which made me feel guilty for being unable to control her. I didn't care too much, until I realized that the monster was continually sticking a tiny safety pin in her mouth. I ran to the girl and tried to take it away...causing her to scream -- but all the other women, gave me bad looks - telling me to take it easy. Exasperated, I said, "she has a needle"....and they simply said, yes, yes...a needle... ARGH!
There's a very different idea of childhood here --- I guess it's that saying, whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger. Anyway...after the restaurant, the family said, "Now we will go to house of the bride...OK?" I didn't know this meant that we would drive out of the city, and sit there for four hours, waiting for the bride's mother to come so that she can wash the bride's hands in oil and then flour...at which point more presented would be presented to the bride, and ONLY THEN would we eat the wedding cake. I must say, after all the many weddings I have attended, it's only NOW that I understand what happens to the wedding cake...it gets eaten by the women who sit with the bride after the wedding party. I wouldn't have been so tired from those four hours if I hadn't been forced to eat a fourth lunch/second dinner, and to sit in a mostly empty room with two women who drummed and sang the same two songs for over two hours. BUT the wedding cake was the most delicious cake I have ever tasted in my life --- the frosting was the BEST EVER!!
On another note, I have been to Korvon - the big bazaar of Dushanbe yesterday - and I learned for the first time, that I have ZERO patience for pushers. If someone, anyone, I don't care how strong or big pushes me, I WILL PUSH them back... (please, dear friends, do not push me to test this comment, haha). The first snow of Dushanbe came on Saturday morning - and apparently the whole city of Dushanbe went to the open and closed bazaars of Korvon to get winter clothing. In the shoe department, the worst crowd I have ever been in (Liz, this story is not for you) was surrounding me. We tried to rest against a shoe display to let the others through/pass us, but some horrible women and men were pushing me and my host mother and brother into the shoes. we told them to stop pushing us over, and I could sware they were pushing and punching into us on purpose. I lost my patience and nearly started a fist fight with some people, yelling at them to stop, until I decided to join the wave traveling down the aisle of shoes (moj) for my own safety - as to not get trampled. But seriously, I didn't realize I had it in me to fight back physically, and I hope I never have to deal with such a situation again...It wasn't nice to punch people...but what else can you do in such a situation ---??? If I could have ducked out I would have, but some of you may know how closed bazaars are in these countries, and how the aisles between tables are only about 2 meters wide...
Otherwise, life is not too exciting. This week is the human rights film festival of the organization I work for here. I probably won't be going to them very much, though, because of my many commitments and the films are all in Russian. Apparently, for the opening too, only the organizers showed up.
---I leave Dushanbe on the 17th and get to the U.S. after 9 days in Dubai on the 27th.
The Kazakh government is considering my case on the 5th of December for getting a work permit. Wish me luck!

Presidents/Botanical Gardens/Computers, etc.

Hello Everyone
and
Happy Birthday Dad!
Life is getting on - I'm busy with work #2 - editing an entire book on Dialogue between the government and religious opposition. Work at the Bureau on Human Rights is also continuing, albeit slowly, and there will be little grief on my part when I leave this job. It's especially fun when the computers don't have internet for an hour or so, and everyone takes this as a reason to leave work for the day. This happened last Thursday.
This past weekend, I was a tad lazy, but I did learn to make two unusual salads - as my host sister is an expert of crazy Tajik salads, and I learned to make a cabbage dish. On Saturday, we went to the botanical garden of Dushanbe, where there was an exhibition of everything "Tajik Village" from all the regions of the country. I took many many photos, and I hope to upload them tomorrow. The highlight though was when the President arrived and I got a spot pretty close to the VIP seating area, where I could hear him give his speech. President Imomali Rahmon is far more pleasant to look at in person than on TV, where they do a closeup shot and you can see his HUGE eyebrows. It's recently been the 15th anniversary of peace, independence and constitution, and all kinds of "love tajikistan" days. On Friday, the President was speaking to the Congress which had signed the peace (I believe), and I was amazed to realize that from the podium where Rahmon was speaking, the wall facing him was draped in a huge portrait of himself. In essence, the man was speaking to himself! Later, when he took his seat, the President kept his head down, and eyes 95% closed. I joked with everyone that the President was sleeping through the ceremony, but my host mother (who loves the President very much) took offense at this joke and told me that this was simple reverence. I tried to express in Tajik that if everyone expressed their reverence for peace in this way, the whole auditorium would appear to be sleeping. She was with me at the Botanical Garden when we saw the President speaking, and besides for when she answered her cell phone (not so laudatory of the President), she would be the only woman in the crowd to say loudly "Spasibo" or Thank You and then break the silence with applause. We arrived late to the exhibition and so parts of it had already closed, but there were all kinds of animals and village labor demonstrations. There were many cows and goats and even camels, which scared the poor Tajik teenage girls. For some reason, though, and I can't understand at all, the host mother ran away from tied-up cows. She ran! I asked her if she was afraid, and she exclaimed that indeed she was! I could understand this from a city person, but she's from the villages and have lived for years with cows. I asked her to explain, and she said that these were "city cows". I don't mean to make fun, but it was really strange!
Nothing much else is very interesting. For those of you looking for updates, I will be leaving here on the 17th of December for Dubai. I will stay there for about 9 days, but I don't have a return flight yet. It's not clear when or IF I will get to Kazakhstan because I have not yet managed to acquire all the necessary documents for getting a work permit from the government of Kazakhstan. See you soon! Wish me luck getting the entire book on Religious dialogue edited in the next month!

Anargul.

Here is me and Pomegranateflower. You may read about her below.

day before we transported the bride...

Here's another picture of Anargul in her wedding clothes, before we brought her to the new village.

older photos (from EID) for your amusement.

Above, for Eid, you'll see a group the family, outside a house being built by Rakhmatullo, my host mother's brother-in-law.He's on the right.

Here is Idigul, my host sister. She is boiling eggs and coloring them for the Festival after the Month of Ramadhan.

On the right is me, with my "host neice".She's only eight months, but she crawls everywhere and is almost always happy. Do you like my bizarre facial expression and my Tajik gear?

Baljovon and Earthquakes

Day Number Whatever
Also: (yesterday was) CONSTITUTION DAY!!

Off from work. I was happy to know that the Bureau of Human Rights follows the constitution and gave us a day off. But what’s new?? I have been so busy, and completely troubled with insomnia for roughly the last two weeks. I normally can sleep for 15 hours, if I wish, but for some reason, I now wake up at about 4 am every single day!!- and that’s it! By 6 am, the family is busy and working – prayers are being said around 6:15 or so, and a big breakfast is ready by 7am.
This morning, I was up at that time, although lying on my kurpatchas (?) – the cushions I have to sleep on – (on the ground). At around 7:30 or so, I felt the floor sway and shake a bit. It turns out for about 15 seconds I was feeling an earthquake. It’s been awhile that I haven’t felt even a small earthquake. The whole family was awake, and nobody said or did anything (apparently nobody felt it) and so, I stayed lying down – although part of me wondered whether I should get up and go outside, in case it would happen again. I only knew it wasn’t my imagination when Clinton (this nice American guy here who has been working in Kabul the last two years) asked me later in the day if I had noticed a small earthquake. He said he was sure there had been one, because he had grown accustomed to the feeling of earthquakes from Kabul.
But I have lots of news for all of you!! Life is definitely progressing, and I have to be honest when I say that I never want to leave this crazy city!. Yesterday was a particularly fun/interesting day. I was at work, and went to lunch at noon – as usual. After sitting in Merve (the Turkish restaurant) for 20 minutes and being overcharged by 4 somoni ($1.20), I went to Plazma, the local “expat-preferred” internet café. I needed to send a fax of my current work certification and my passport to Kazakhstan in order to get the work permit for next semester at KIMEP (which I probably won't get anyway in the end). The fax was not going through – and I am just standing there, complaining under my breath. Finally, it doesn’t work at all, and without telling me that the second page didn’t go through, they charge me. The fax confirmation was in English, though and it said, “Communication error.” In my broken farsi, I complained that it didn’t go through.
I paid some money – which I thought was for the two pages – and then they set about again trying to send the fax. Finally, they are like, OK, it went through. They then ask for more money. I said to them, But I’ve already paid. They were like no, that money was for the last time. I got annoyed, and started asking questions – like, what last time?-the last time that the fax didn’t go through? They said, yes. Finally, it comes out that their payment policy for faxes is not by the page, but by how many minutes it takes them to send something. This was complete nonsense – How can you charge for faxing by the minute? I told them that nowhere in the world have I seen such a policy – and that they could just sit there and without pressing send, and count the minutes – this policy especially makes no sense when the fax in the end never goes through. IN any case, I realized I had no patience to bicker over what would amount to a dollar – so, I stopped complaining.
Meanwhile, a man standing next to me is sort of laughing and starts sympathizing with the nonsense – and tries to console the women at the payment desk that I do in fact understand them and I am not trying to fight with them or deny them their money. My language was particularly funny because this man turned out to be Iranian – from Mashad – and he was amused by my heartfelt attempt to bicker in Farsi. Anyway, he’s an “e-commerce multi-level marketing” businessman (those were his words) who has been living in Dushanbe for two years. He decided I was interesting enough – so he introduced me to a second Iranian restaurant in Dushanbe – Restaurant Ferdovsi. It’s better than DBD – where I normally go for Iranian Koobideh. I wasn’t hungry, as I had just come from Merve, but I had a barley soup and drank tea. It was nice – but I am mildly exhausted from meeting people who speak only Farsi/Tajik. It’s amazing that I have such a small vocabulary and yet I manage to have three hour conversations with people entirely in Tajik, with a smattering of Russian words thrown in.
Anyway, yesterday I also went for my typical Arabic belly dancing class – which I attend normally about 4 times a week. But yesterday a horde of American women were there (and by horde, I mean three). I have seen these girls before – but never formally introduced myself. They are quite nice, and I believe they are all interns at various organizations. One plays volleyball for Seton hall, although from Canada, and is about 2 meters tall and blond. She is completely obvious on the streets. She told me a brilliant story about her and her friend (from the US?) . She was walking when she thought that the water that was coming from someone’s window was glass. She screamed and jumped away, tripping her friend. They went flying. Everyone on the street was laughing – when I flew/fell down the stairs, I am happy nobody laughed…
If any of you have gotten this far in reading about my recent life in Dushanbe, I should tell you that I had the most MOST MOST amazing weekend ever!! I went to Baljovon – the village where my host family is from – and for two days, I visited the sister of my host father and we followed around a new bride. This probably won’t make much sense the way I will write it, but at around eighteen to twenty years old, girls should be married. When they find a husband-to-be, they should normally accept to live with the husband’s family in his home (unless he doesn’t have one, and she does). So, this girl (Anargul, or literally: PomegranateFlower), a cousin of the friend I went with to Baljovon was to be married – but she was to be married to a man in a village – oh, only about 2 hours away in a completely different region and in the middle of nowhere! The day we arrived in Baljovon I took a nap, was offered my favorite food (Oshe-reshte, a soup with beans and wheat noodles) and then we went to the wedding. Because the bride’s brother had been killed fairly recently – hit by a car – there was no dancing and no real festivity. At about six o’clock, in the villages of Tajikistan the electricity comes on – this lasts until 9 – a sort of government imposed bed time. In the morning, the electricity comes on again at about 5 am and lasts till there’s daylight. My friend calls this the two celebrations people have every day in Tajikistan.
Anyway, so we got to the wedding, and it was mostly just the old women sitting in one room, and the men sitting outside (it was fairly chilly). We were offered the typical fare, we ate, then we put on a video of a past wedding with dancing where they were actually outdoors with an announcer and a band (which is typical). I was forced to display my Tajik dance skills – and when I initially refused, everyone told me that the whole room of women was waiting for their foreign guest to dance for them. I felt obliged and gave a two-minute presentation. haha.
Eventually I was allowed to leave that room – and go to the other room where the bride was getting dressed for the evening. That night, in that room, she had all of her classmates join her and they had a meal together. Classmates at weddings are particularly important here – usually taking center stage in the dancing and meals. This might be partly because the couples getting married are pretty young and usually have just finished school. Unlike our classes in the US, almost every single person in a class at school here will go to the wedding if someone is getting married – and the students have far less dislike of each other than we do in the US. I danced in the room where the bride was dressing herself, to PMC – the Persian Music Channel – this greatly amused PomegranateFlower (the bride, that is). When her classmates came I had to return to the old woman’s room, haha – until the electricity went off at 9pm. We all walked home in the dark night to the other house. I had my flashlight with me, Thankfully! I wish I could tell you how amazing the night was – within a few minutes I was crying – the number of stars visible in Baljovon, the air – the moon – everything!! I stayed outside for about half an hour just looking at the stars. I might have stayed for two hours or more (it was about 50 degrees!) if the family there hadn’t pulled me inside to eat again!-! I had some pomegranate seeds…
The next morning, we decided I should call Dushanbe to let everyone know I was OK. My phone was completely without signal in that village (or anywhere on the trip for that matter), so I was told that I could go to the top of the hill where I thought they said there was a phone. I took my money with me, and was prepared to pay someone to use their phone. Actually, I had misunderstood and was supposed to bring with me my cell phone simply to see if at the top of the hill there would be reception. Haha. I didn’t bring my phone with me up to the top, but I knew that outside Dushanbe my phone just wasn’t going to work anyway!! In any case, I walked around the town – and then when we got back, I got a second portion of oshe-reshte and then we went back to the house where Pomegranateflower was preparing to be taken to her new home…When they pinned the bride’s hat on her, she broke down – and starting sobbing for about an hour. The men who had prepared the car kept coming in and saying, "what??-Tell her to get ready!!" – But she’s just in a ball, crying hysterically on the ground. The women in the room are laughing and trying to console her – but that just wasn’t happening. About twenty women and men got into two large vehicles – the whole village practically seemed to be transporting the bride to the new home. After two hours of an amazing ride through mountains we reached a village in the middle of nowhere which seemed to be only 10 houses or so, and Pomegranateflower was put into a room with the women where she sat behind a gold-colored drape. She would sit behind the curtain for a day, and then the next day her work would begin. The next day she would have to serve everyone and prove herself worthy as a new bride. Just before leaving, I went to greet her, and although it was only the third time in her life to see me, she was soo happy and wanted a picture with me. We stayed for a few hours in that village – where I sat mostly with the men (to the dismay of the women) and answered questions about the price of bread and cars in the US.
--I am tired of typing for now, and I have to get ready to meet Fred (my old classmate from Geneva) who is working here and has decided to hire me as an editor for a book on Dialogue between the Government and Islamic parties in Tajikistan. I don’t need a second job, but I’ve always got a full plate.

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!!

Kamila - before she walked down the aisle...

Katie, Aneta, Sarka, and Me... (Aneta must have had her Baby girl by now!)

Kamila (Kamila's Mother), Petra (sister), and Katie - we're on the historical tram!!

Kamila and David in front of the Prague 6 Municipal Building

Can you tell they are Tango artists?

I took probably a dozen photos of them twirling around for fun after everyone left the building and gathered on this lawn. I don't think they got nearly enough photos taken.

Wedding photos!

I've finally got some pictures to share with you from Kamila's wedding. Here is Petr, the bride's father!

the wedding was a blast

The wedding of one of the 4th year Pharmacy students, at the Medical college, was a blast. The entire class was there - and I now know about a dozen 22 year old girls who are preparing to be pharmacists. The entire village - a small part of the region of Hissar - about 20 minutes by car from Dushanbe, was looking on to the wedding and standing behind the guests. As usual in villages, the 60 people actually invited had seats and food and were allowed to dance. The other 300-400 people were watching from behind the tables, and getting closer and closer to the food. It was a little like a horror film...Gissar may be known for thievery though... As you may remember, Christine had about 250 dollars stolen from her bag, and yesterday, the Tajik girls sitting with us were paranoid to no end that the children creeping closer and closer to our chairs would take anything they could touch. When we went to dance, one woman was left at the table with 15 purses piled in front of her - the purses even placed directly on food so that nobody would touch them. The dancing was wonderful - although my arabic dancing has somewhat changed my Tajik style, and I am less comfortable with the Tajik arm movements. There was also an official dancer at the wedding, who was handed bills by people - to pay her and so that she would continue. The bride and groom as always sat up at the front and didn't smile once, and they would only stand if someone came directly up to greet them. They certainly didn't dance together, I never saw them eat, and only once or twice did they talk with their best friends/witnesses (I haven't figured out what) who sat next to them on the platform. The classmates, who really seemed to be the most important guests, bought together for them a tv and dvd player. It seemed to be a very nice gift. Before the wedding, we were treated to some food at the home - but we ate in the dark - well, in the dusk - as it was just turning 5:30 or so, and the daylight was diminishing. Apparently, Gissar's businesses consume all the electricity available, and so only for a few hours at night, is there electricity in the residential areas. We ate some snacks at the home, went outside when it started to get really dark inside, and by 6:20 were we seated in the outdoor area for the wedding, where there was a paid announcer and a band. The announcer would cut off the music every half hour or so to make good wishes to the bride and groom, and other close people to the newlyweds would go to the mic and speak. I was asked to speak, but I am seriously shy about such things...and so, I regretfully didn't go to the mic. We took a paid cab back, with two of the girls from the pharmacy college, at about 8, and then headed off to La Salsa for some Mexican bean burritos with Galya. There was a near riot inside La Salsa because the French military contingent was having some kind of party, and they were very drunk and very loud. Well, today is a beautiful Fall sunday in Dushanbe, and I look forward to going to the Park, and telling my old host family that I actually have to move in with them tomorrow because my landlady's family fromUzbekistan is coming tomorrow and they don't really have space for me. Perhaps I should get my own apartment again -?