Dya Dya Boris

Amy: We have friends in our neighborhood now. We met this guy at a church we went to. He's living in Washington state, but is from Almaty. His parents just happen to live a couple of buildings over from us, they are of Russian origin, not Kazakh. So he called us up last night (he's here visiting) and invited us over for tea after dinner, which is a common practice for people around here, they often have people in their homes to visit in the evenings to have tea. It was a joy to get out of our completely westernized apartment, and visit a true Russian home. Their apartment was smaller than ours, and filled with five people, three dogs, and a cat. It was worn and simple, well lived in, and smelled of dust from the outside and gas from the tea heating on the stove. We only met Papa, Mama, and brother Misha, all Russian blond with plump faces. They speak little if no English at all, so their son from Washington had to translate. We all crowded in the tiny kitchen (six humans and two dogs), around the tiny kitchen table that was covered with food and tea cups. The mother, Alla, served us tea, chocolate cake, traditional Russian pastries, fresh plums and pears, and some kind of nuts. They completely welcomed us in, and shared everything from what scenic places to visit to how to deal with the police if we get pulled over. The papa insists now that we call him Dya Dya Boris, which means "Uncle Boris". Alla simply wanted to be called Alla. They're taking us to a lookout place tonight where we can see the lights of the city.

The water rushed in foamy white peaks and blue/brown pools in this river. A deafening sound.
Amy/Travis

The sheep on the hillside. Moving, they looked like ants in an anthill. The hillside was itself crawling.
Amy/Travis

The shepherds' caravan.
Amy/Travis

Travis: Shepherds of Kazakhstan. When I showed these ladies their picture in the LCD display, they were a bit shocked at their own appearance. Must have been a while since they'd last seen themselves. They were so sweet, though. Smiled and smiled.
Amy/Travis

Last weekend we went on another school trip to a trout farm in the mountains. Talk about instant gratification. You take a stick with a hook on it, attach a piece of corn, stick it in the water, and instantly you have a fish.
Amy/Travis

We caught six trout total. They clean em', slice em' and barbecue em' right there for you. Bones and all.
Amy/Travis

Starting to snow in the mountains
Amy/Travis

Travis here. Finally.

I haven't added to the blog yet. Amy did all the grunt work setting it up. Thanks, Amy.

School:

I'm coaching girl's soccer, football. I teach reading, language arts, and cultural studies to 13-year-olds. I've got 12 of them. I also teach math to 12-year-olds and high school geography. My schedule is pretty easy. We go to school around 7:30 and school starts at 8:45. Gives us plenty of time to get things ready. In the eight-period day, I teach the first three, have the fourth free, then lunch is free. Then I teach two classes in the afternoon and have 7th and 8th periods free again. Except Monday and Wednesday I have my 13s for study hall. Still, you can't beat 13 preparation periods a week. There is a lot of work to be done, though. I am constantly preparing lessons or tests or projects or something. It's fun and the kids are so well-disciplined. Good attitudes and they really enjoy learning. Learning is fun to them, like a hobby. I feel like it almost needs explaining it is so unusual to me.

Here's a little about life:

Everything is cheap here. Did I tell you that? I took a shirt to a seamstress I located the other day. In broken Russian I showed her the problem. She said it would cost 100 tenge. about 75 cents. I said "Kak Dolga," When will it be ready. (I had just gotten it out of my Russian at a Glance book.) She said, "Zavtra," tomorrow.

We enjoy fresh, chemically untainted (and cheap) produce and meat on a daily basis too.

Our mailboxes. No one uses them. Not even the locals.
Amy/Travis

Our stairwell. I'm glad they warned us not to judge our apartment by the hallways.
Amy/Travis

Infrastructure.
Amy/Travis

The front of our building. Thanks to old Soviet housing, now that you've seen ours, you've seen everyone else's in town.
Amy/Travis

Our kitchen window with attached clothesline. No more dryer soft freshness for us. To get our clothes anywhere near soft, we have to shake them for a good minute. Travis made a bird feeder to put on the line. No birds have come. In fact, the ones we had went away.
Amy/Travis

Amy: So we went for a walk up a new street today. There are tiny markets on almost every corner selling the basics. They sell a little bit of milk and a lot of Vodka. The basics. Fruit/vegetable stands are aplenty, and we've gotten to know one of the ladies at a stand on a corner near us. She laughs at our dreadful Russian but then does something other vendors don't do: she helps us. We like her. She sells the best red peppers. On our way home we took pictures of our building.

To catch you up...last weekend our director and his assistant took us to the Medeo ice skating rink up in the mountains, and then out for a meal of meat kebabs, otherwise known as Shashlik, a traditional Kazakh food. So traditional and popular in fact that there's actually a button on our microwave that says "Shashlik".

A skater on the Kazakh national team practicing at the Medeo.
Amy/Travis

We hiked up about 400 steps above the Medeo skating rink.
Amy/Travis

Our director Dave and his assisstant Natasha.
Amy/Travis

Our modest but ever busy playground outside of our apartment
Amy/Travis

The view out of our kitchen window
Amy/Travis