Climb Every Mountian

After last weeks run in with the the dance performance manager, my friends and I realized we had a few days free. We were scheduled to help him from Tuesday until Friday of last week. Since no one was expecting us we deiced to head to the mountains for a bit of a vacation.
The city I live in is surrounded on almost every side by mountains, which you can see on beautiful clear days from almost anywhere. It only costs about a dollar to hop on a bus and have them take you out to a point from which you can start hiking. Sadly these mountains are turning more and more into a tourist trap all the time. There are big hotels and restaurants, and even gate fees to pay to hike in certain parts.

We were able to talk with a Kazak family a little about their horses (Kazaks love horses, they are a vital part of the culture) and in the end the wife told us the round about path we could walk to avoid paying the entrance fee.
We hiked for about three hours before stopping for a picnic lunch ( huh, I might not be able to dance, but I can participate in some physical activities). As we hiked on we noticed that the rain was moving in and decided it was time that we find ourselves a place to sleep for the night. All through the mountains are Kazak yurts, where you can make a deal with the owner for dinner and a nights accommodation. But you have to be willing to bargain hard.

I don't speak Kazak ( it is linguistically close to Uyghur kind of like Spanish and Italian are fairly similar), I know a few simple rules of how the languages are different so we muddled our way through a conversation. I did pull out all the stops to try to get us a good price. I repeated the fact that I was a student over and over, I even showed off my skinny wrists to prove how little I eat. In the end I got the price down to $4CAD a night per person. I thought this included our dinner, but I was wrong, she ended up charging us an extra $5 for our food ( not to mention the $2 she charged us for coal to heat the fire and keep the yurt warm at night). I felt like we were getting riped off.

The outside of a Kazak yurt (traditional home)

The inside of the yurt (I am the one on the left with my head covered trying to get some sleep)

A cute little Kazak baby, dressed really warm against the summer chill ( except for its little bum sticking out of the split pants).

But since returning home my teacher asked how much we spent on our night in the mountains. I have learned over the years to turn the question back on them. If I answer first with how much I spent, my local friends will always tell me I paid way too much. But sometimes if I can get them to estimate the price first they will name something higher than I paid and I end up proving to them that foreigners can do alright at the bargaining game. My teacher thought a night in a yurt plus dinner for three people should run about 300-350 of the local currency. So you can imagine how surprised she was to learn that I had only paid 110 (for a grand total of $6CAD per person).

As you can see it was a beautiful and restful place to get away (and yes mom, these are all file photos from three years ago. We didn't have a camera on us to capture the beauty this time, but I have in the past.)

The Subject of Political Incorrectness

I always thought that this whole political correctness had gone a little far. I thought people should be able to say what they want without everyone taking offense. However, I guess I have grown accustom to a certain level or standard of politeness conversation. But this week I was the one who was on the down side of a tackless persons conversation.

I have told you about the famous foreigner phenomenon out here. People think if you can get a white face to participate that the whole things seems a lot cooler. So this week my friend was asked to find another foreigner to join her in a live on stage song and dance performance. Since a lot of the foreigners out here are sick of this sort of thing, it wasn't like there were that many people biting at the bit to participate.

We were running 5 minutes late on Tuesday morning when we were to meet the guy who was organizing our portion of the performance. He had been calling on and off for the last half an hour wanting to check and make sure we were coming ( we used a very local expression and told him we were coming on a horse, this can buy you up to almost an hour of waiting time in the local culture). When we arrived he didn't introduce himself, he didn't greet us, he didn't say anything, he just took one look at us, got in the car and we headed out.

We figured he was mad that we were running 5 minutes late, but considering it was 6 a.m. we weren't going to feel to bad about it. Twenty minutes into our car ride he turns to my friend and says "That was really irresponsible of you to not tell me the girl had bad legs. We can't have her in the performance".

We were shocked and surprised that he would be so blunt about it. In North America it would be the height of rudeness to so blatantly point out someones disability, or to use it as an excuse to exclude them from an activity. We have become so inclusive in our culture and so sensitive to political correctness, that this statement seemed like a slap in the face. We tried assuring him that I could Uyghur dance, and in fact that I did it all the time. But he considered the matter closed. I was not good enough for his show. He quickly called another white face that he knew, to see if she would sub in for me.

When we finally got out of the car and into the waiting area I ended up having to leave the room, I was more hurt by his senseless discrimination than I thought I would be. Once I was out of the room, he turned on my friend and yelled at her. Culturally here the whole idea of saving face is a big deal. He had been asked to find Westerners to perform and he was afraid that if he brought less than perfect white faces to the party he would lose face in front of his superiors. So he tried to pass the blame onto my friend.

Anyway she refused to take part if they were going to disqualify me without even letting me try. To top it off the replacement they found was also a friend of mine and refused to participate as well. In the end we all walked away, and last I heard they had to cancel our part of the performance because he couldn't find anyone else willing.

In North America we have really made advancements in how people with a wide variety of disabilities can participate in daily life. Unfortunately here, most of that is still hidden away in shame. The idea of celebrating a persons ability to overcome is unheard of. Instead they want to present a perfect facade and in turn sweep anyone with blemishes under the rug. I often forget how much my being here despite of my limp and other physical disabilities stands in stark contrast to cultural norms.

40 Days and 40 Nights

No this post is not about Noah, but I am sure some mothers out here must begin to feel just about as stir crazy. A few months ago I commented on the fact that a Uyghur woman is expected to stay at home for 40 days after giving birth. One of my friends commented that she wasn't sure if this sort of confinement would be relaxing and healing or simply drive her crazy.

Last week some of my friends from the states gave birth to their third child. I thought her post on the forced home stay was rather funny and I thought you might enjoy her insights (Beth this is for you).

Our boy is just over a week old now, but according to local custom, we need to keep him inside- and I should for sure be inside with him, lying in bed- for one whole month after birth. I know this and I really do want to honor the local culture as much as possible, but this is really tricky! We don't have family here to take over caring for me, the baby, the house and the big kids, and I admit, I am very Americanly productivity minded. Matt has been a Super Dad (absolutely extraordinary!) but still, he can only do so much.

So, I confess, I have ventured out already. Several times actually. Matt took me out for breakfast to a cute coffee shop nearby for my birthday. It was just me and my men (Isaiah was still a bit ill so he didn't go to school, but Marian did.) I tried to find an exit out of our building where I wouldn't have to pass by the usual line up of people-watchers or hear too many comments before hopping in the back seat of our electric bike. But the plan failed.

I ran into an unexpected crowd of very concerned neighbors. What was I doing out already!? And WHAT was I doing wearing no socks, even daring to expose virtually my whole calf (calves) so soon after giving birth? (It was about 80 F.) How old is that baby?... Basically they were all of one mind and voice: "go upstairs this instant and don't come out again for three more weeks!"

Then I met two more ladies, one about 50 and the other about 70 years old. The younger asked me "do you know that we have a custom..." and she went on to explain the "Man Yue" custom of spending the first month lying down.

"Yes, I know."

"But you don't follow it?"

"I know there is lots of value in that custom. I think it is very nice and helpful, but it's not what I'm used to and I also have two big kids I need to care for so I can't really practice Man Yue like you do."

Then the younger woman, who apparently was already familiar with foreigners ways, explained the whole thing to the older woman. "These foreigners don't rest for a month. She walks around with no socks on. She probably even drinks cold water- really cold."

The elder was flabbergasted. Certainly not cold water! (It would make my stomach upset and my milk undrinkable for our little one.)

Then the younger continued..."She probably brushed her teeth the first day after she gave birth."

The elder promptly replied: "That's impossible. If you brush your teeth that soon, all your teeth will fall out."

Lots to keep in mind!

And, it's not just a few people who have shared thoughts like this with us. These views honestly seem to be held by at least 9 out of 10 people we meet.... and people do share their opinions very (very) willingly. There's basically no holding back when it comes to people declaring what they think of you!

The gate guard at the kids school is another friend of ours. He's always careful to look out for and care for our family. He told me, scoldingly (which means he cares a great deal for us) that he doesn't care if it's not what we're used to... and then he laid on us the equivalent of "when in Rome, do as the Romans."

Yes... Somehow...

Time is Money

I took my roommate up to the airport yesterday morning for her early morning flight. After she was all checked in and through security , I looked at my watch and decided to take the bus home since it was only 6 a.m. and I still had a few hours before I was to meet someone. The two hour trip home gave me a good opportunity to consider how the values of time and money are vastly different between the east and the west.

In the west we are all about saving ourselves time. We will willingly pay a little extra money to have food delivered to our house... we like our one hour photo finishing. We are all about pre- packaged food and minimum prep time. Even the fact that every house hold has a car, a washer & dyer, microwave, and dishwasher are examples of how we spend money to save time. To us it would be totally reasonable to pay someone to do a task for us, or pay the premium if it will save us an hour of our time. We value time over money.

It is the opposite here, and I proved it with my bus ride home. It would have cost me less than $8 to take a taxi right from the airport to my front door. The whole trip would have taken no more than 30 minutes. But instead the local mindset has started to sink in. I figured why pay eight dollars, when I could walk 15 minutes, sit/stand on a crowded bus for an 1 1/2 hours, and then walk another 15 minutes back to my place for the low, low price of only 30 cents.

People here will often walk for 20-30minutes to go to the store that is selling vegetables pennies cheaper, they will stand in long lines and spend long periods of time haggling over the smallest price variations. Almost all meals are still prepared from scratch and while you can find microwaves for sale, they are not that common in homes. Here people are willing to spend as much time as it takes to save a buck.

Time is money or money is time, I guess it all depends on what you value.

A Heavy Load

Thanks to a new ruling by local officials, all foreign students need to move on campus. Officially this is said to be for our safety and protection (which is just funny).

The other day I helped friends of mine make the move. Moving here is actually one of the tasks that is surprisingly simple. I called the moving company the day before and told them about what time we wanted them to come. As long as you don't have a piano, a safe or an aquarium that need to be moved, the cost is only about $12 for the truck and another buck fifty for each floor. So for instance my friends were moving from a first floor apartment to a fourth floor one... five floors in total cost them about $7.50. Which means in theory one can move for less than $20 (Sadly my friends were deemed to have too much stuff to fit in one truck, so the guys had to make it two trips and it cost them double).

For that low price two or three guys will come with a truck and move everything you have with lightening speed. My job was to sit out with the truck and make sure everything made it in, and nothing was ripped off by passer-byers (it is a hard job sitting in the sunshine watching other people engage in heavy labour). It always amazes me that the guys they send seem to be the scrawniest, little movers you have ever met. Yet despite there size they can make a pack mule look lazy as they stack up their load for each trip and start climbing up to the fourth floor (remember no elevators).

My friend's new apartment building

The movers hard at work

Modeling, Mocking, and Moving

A few months ago I posted pictures of my friend and I in our matching local dresses. While we love the clothes, we saw the whole twin thing as a bit of a joke.

When spring came my Uyghur roommate suggested that we all get matching dresses to celebrate the season, and our friendship. She was so excited about the prospect, that my American roommate and I couldn't help but agree.

So we had our fabric made up into different pieces, but with the same matching theme. Unfortunately it wasn't enough just to own the clothing, our roommate told us we had to go around campus and take model shot photos of all of us together. The two of us from the west wanted to roll our eyes or gag a little at the cheesiness of it all. Can you imagine doing this in North America, the mocking from friends would be eternal.

We not only took photos but we also shot a short video clip of us walking around and holding hands so that she could look back with found memories of our time together as roommates. She found this whole twin and togetherness time very moving. She has already printed up pictures as well as sent them to all her friends and family.

I was originally going to mock myself in this post, and claim how silly the whole thing was. But instead I will let my roommate set the tone. Isn't it wonderful to think we will always have these pictures and these clothes to remember this time.

You Can't Get There From Here

The road by the front gate of my school is currently under construction. This means that my normally very convenient place to live has become a VERY inconvenient place.

When my family was here to visit four years ago, my brother averaged it out and said that a new bus arrived at the bus stop every 35 seconds. I have been spoiled with the ease of it all. Now the bus stop is an extra ten minute walk away. Added to the extended walk to get to the bus, is the extended length of time spent on the bus. There are so many buses being redirected that traffic jams are now prevalent on the smallest little lanes. Sometimes they are trying to go down roads that you don't even think could fit a bus, much less one going each direction.

Traffic laws here run under the assumption that the first person to get their nose into a small spot gets to have it. So three lanes of traffic will often compete to meld into the same narrow space. Here is a file photo of a relatively calm intersection, where you can see a traffic jam in the making.
All of this has resulted in a lot more walking for me. I have realized that any location within a half hour walking radius is likely easier and quicker to get to on foot than it would be by bus. So I guess that means I will be walking for a while ( they estimate finishing the construction in Oct)

A "Snow" Cone

The day we have all been waiting for with baited breath and great anticipation has finally arrived. The Ice Mountain Creamery has finally opened it doors. This is a fully foreign run and operated ice cream shop here in town. It is sooooo good.

Ice cream has never really been anything to write home about, until now that is. Here in town we really only had two options; bad local ice cream that is a lot more ice and a lot less cream, and Uzbek ice cream which is wonderfully creamy and rich and sweet, but the only problem is it only comes in one flavour. Now I grew up use to the idea of a ice cream shop offering 31 flavours... and I have to admit that after five years, this one sort of caramel, sort of vanilla, sort of like those flavours you just can't seem to put your finger on what it really is, has gotten a little monotonous.

We did have one other option, a small container of Hogindos, which cost a small fortune ( since the price was high, they weren't selling, and you just knew they were sitting in the stores collecting freezer burn) and no one ever bought.

Until today. When I went by the Ice Mountain Creamery they had five flavours for sale (strawberry, banana, Walnut crunch, Cream, and Winter Snow). I bought a waffle cone of Winter Snow. The name itself is ingenious. It is a traditional cookies and cream, with oreo's crumbled up in the ice cream. But the combination of the dark on the white, made the owners think of the coal dust that covers the snow in the winter here. It is a joke that any ex-pat would think was hilarious. I normally can't find much to laugh about in the dark, bleak winter, but give me a nice summer day and a scoop of ice cream and the whole thing seems like a big joke.

Appealing to Local Logic

I have mentioned several times how the older ladies in my neighborhood are always after me for not wearing weather appropriate clothing. I have grown accustom to just smiling and letting the comments roll off me, but for my friends with children it is even worse.

Every time they go out they are accosted by neighbours who comment on how little the child is wearing, and how they are going to get sick. The kid could be wearing a wool sweater in the middle of the summer and some caring neighbour would feel obliged to tell them the child will get a cold. It really is all said out of love, but it really does get annoying after a while.

An American couple brought their two kids to this baby party the other day. The child being honoured was dressed in thick corduroy overalls, and a flannel shirt (under which I am sure he was wearing a layer of long johns). The western family had taken advantage of the bright sunny summerish day and dressed their baby in a cute flowery summer suit (sleeveless with matching shorts). You could almost hear the mutual shocked intake of breath from around the room as they entered.

But the father was prepared. He used their own local logic to explain how he was best caring for his child. He said "You know American babies are different. If they wear too many clothes they sweat a lot. If they are then out in the breeze that sweat and wetness can lead to a cold. So if I keep her in such a way as to prevent sweating she will actually stay healthier." The poor old lady who had instigated the conversation had no idea how to answer this... you could tell she had paused to consider it. And it even seemed to make some sense to her. But in the end she retorted with the good old tried and true come back "Our babies aren't like that, and you need to put more clothes on your baby, or she will get sick".

Oh well, nice try. At least the kids I'm playing with don't seem that cold in their summer outfits.

Way Too Much Food

We went to a party for one of my friend's new born son yesterday. I guess the tradition is to have the party as a celebration after the first month (both mother and baby are required to stay inside... and something about not washing for the entire first month after birth, lest one of them get sick). So you can understand why they would want to celebrate with a party.
What always overwhelms me at these events is the amount of food that is both served and wasted. The waiters and waitress have to perform quite the balancing act. All of the food is placed in the center of the table on a lazy Susan. Starting with cold dishes and slowly adding more and more. The turn table is soon full, the dishes have to start being placed on top of/ supported by other ones. When one dish is empty etiquette demands they are to take it away, but it is often crucial in the holding up and supporting of a dish that just arrived. This dilemma throws the staff into a whirlwind and they quickly rearrange everything on the table. The most impressive part of this edible balancing act is that as they are preforming their magic of getting everything to fit we, the guest, are often still spinning the table and grabbing food the whole time.

I know that at least three more dishes arrived to our table after I had taken this picture.

Long Name No Can Say

A few weeks ago when I was buying airline tickets for one of my trips there was a Uyghur couple in line ahead of me. They were having troubles buying a flight for themselves. However, their problem had nothing to do with overbooked flights, conflicting time schedules, lack of cash or any of the other common problems one might anticipate when trying to fly somewhere. The problem started with the guy's name.

Names derived from the national language normally only take up an average of three spaces in the computer. In comparison a full Uyhgur name, (first name combined with the father's name acting as their last name) can be much longer. The computer system at the travel agent's office was equipped to enter a name up to 8 spaces long. This gentleman's name, however, was a whopping total of 10 spaces. The man behind the desk kept insisting he couldn't sell him a ticket. He was denied his right to fly based on the length of his name.

There is a saying here that literally means "there is no solution". Often people say it when a task seems a little difficult or the normal means won't work. Coming from a culture where I have been taught "where there is a will there is a way" or "if at first you don't succeed, try, try again". It is hard to hear over and over, "there is no solution". This seems like an excuse to me, like people are just to resigned to the system to try to figure out new and inventive ways to do things. The longer I live here, the more I hear these same words coming out of my mouth. But the other week I refused to believe their was no solution. The guy working at the office kept trying to dismiss his Uyhgur customer and motion me to the desk. I just sat back and said "Oh no, take your time and find a solution for him first. He is here trying to buy tickets".

Even after 45 minutes the Uyhgur guy left empty handed, cursing and saying he was going to buy a bus ticket (now he has a 24 hour trip instead of just 1h 30m). Poor guy, his name was just too long, he couldn't travel by air.

Stay Off the Grass

The other night after dinner at the hotel restaurant on campus, my friends and I decided to go outside and enjoy the nice spring night. The hotel has a small stretch of grass that forms their lawn situated off to the side. We all grabbed a piece of paper to put under our bums ( a very local thing, no one sits down on any outdoor surface without first making sure they are sitting on something. Sometimes the only clean paper they have is a receipt and hardly covers ones whole bottom, but they sit on it anyway) and plopped down. In my mind this is what a grassy lawn was made for. It was made to be enjoyed by people, as they spend their idle hours out running, sitting, picnicking, flying kites, chasing kids and enjoying nature.

That has not always been the view of grass in this country. In fact it is only in the last 10 or so years that they started to replant grass in the cities. It use to be considered an extravagant luxury that only those in the western world would waste land and energy to plant and maintain. I remember reading in a history book about how school children use to spend their study time pulling up the grass by hand in an attempt by the government to rid themselves of it. For years this place was nothing more than a concrete block. As green grass now finds its way into more corners of the city, its value on it is becoming more apparent. Grass is to look at…it is for decoration and to add to the beauty of the landscape…most definitely NOT TO BE walked on.

If these were lovely manicured thick green blankets of soft grass I could understand a little better, but most of the lawns are “butcher-cut”. My friend looked at it and remarked “…my father would have kicked my bottom if I would have cut our lawn like this and tried to sell it as a job finished!” It was uneven, patchy and dry, but despite that it seemed like a nice place for us to stop and rest.

We sat there on the lawn for a good fifteen or twenty minutes before we were discovered by the grass police swat team ( okay so it wasn't that bad). A young man dressed in his hotel suit was purposefully striding our way. He could have been out for a walk, or on his way to somewhere else but no, it was pretty obvious WE were the destination. He did not mince words, we were asked to get off the grass… it was not allowed for people to use this well established, butcher-cut strip of landscape to place their bottoms on!

Spring has sprung and we are enjoying it from a distance.

Your Asian Twin

I was back on the road again this week, to go and hear a speaker from a university in the States that had come out to Central Asia so lecture on issues relevant to life out here.

While travelling I ran into a girl I went to university with, well at least I ran into her Asian twin. I haven't seen or really even thought about Wendy in eight or nine years, but there she was standing in front of me. This girl looked just like Wendy except for her Asian features, the comparison came to mind immediately.

She is not the first person whose Asian twin I have met while walking down the street. Some times it is a person's clothing, walk, or mannerisms that remind of a friend from home. Sometimes it is their voice or personality that makes a comparison pop into mind. Sometimes it is immediate, like the Wendy look-a-like that I only saw for a second across a busy street, and sometimes it is after a long interaction with a person that I finally realise who they remind me of. I have found peoples twins in all the nationalities out here. Once on a bus there was a Tajik guy that looked just like my friend from New Zealand, as blond as the Kiwi guy was the Tajik guy had dark features, but other than that they were the spitting image of one another. I have found peoples twins among the Russians, Koreans, Chinese, Kazak, Uyghur, Tajik and more.

It's cool to look past the obvious differences in features and find home in the faces of the strangers around me.

Text Messaging

My new favourite form of communication is text messaging. Writing and sending short notes from my cell phone help modern communication makes one one step closer to being totally impersonal, and yet I love it. The other night one of my local friends and I sent texts back and forth for a good two hours. We could have made an actual phone call and have discussed everything we needed to say in five minutes, but this was more fun.

Since most students here have studied English it is normally our texting language of choice, which gives me the upper hand. Some of their text are so funny based on grammar mistakes or uncertain of what the phraseology means. For instance was when one of my guy friends wrote me a text apologizing for forgetting something the day before, he wrote "I am sorry for yesterday. Have I chance or not?" Which was so not his meaning and made we crack up. I tend to save funny ones like this, until I recently found out from one of my friends who doesn't speak English how cute and funny in an incorrect way, my texts I write in Uyghur are.

Okay here is one that will make you laugh. My friend is a teacher and she recently wrote one of her students that had been sick a quick "Feel better soon" text. The students friend responds by sending her this flower message:

"Just now you showed concern to Peter. So, such is life. What makes us happy is what we have now not what we don't have. We should never complain of life where we live. One's fate is in the charge of oneself; happiness comes from one's heart; only one oneself can makes all come true; so come towards the good not the bad. Now matter how salty the teas are, a smiling face can always make brilliance fly around one, and no matter how long the night is, the dawn can always break the dark. So we should cherish all around us and never lose hope. May you happy everyday, dear teacher"

Oh the joy of texting

What's Missing

Yes it was nice to be asked if I was Uyghur on my recent trip south. It proves that I am making strides in that direction, but it always proves I have a long way to go.

It is like language learning, you really only complement someones language if it is not that great. If you meet someone with an exceptionally high level of language skill, to the point that talking to them seems almost normal, then you would never think to comment on it. You take the fluidity for granted and enjoy the conversion.

The same is true for our appearance. There were thousands of Uyghur ladies walking down that same street, several who were much prettier than we were, but no one stopped to comment on them. In fact no one even blinked an eye or nodded a head in their direction, they were just there. We still stood out enough to make us a topic of conversation. They could tell we had tried, but obviously the difference was still enough to draw almost every one's attention and make us stick out like a couple of sour thumbs.

So I started a list:

What is missing from me looking totally Uyghur?

1. Makeup - Uyghur girls wear a lot of it. In fact one of my teachers had her eye shadow tattooed on to save time in the morning. I have never really bothered with it. I do however own a lip gloss

2. Loose the glasses - it is not that all Uyghurs have amazing eye sight, or even that they all choose contacts. It is just that most of them have never gone for an eye exam, and have instead learned to live with the impairment. My glasses are the first thing I put on in the morning, even before the light, and I take them off after my head is on the pillow.

3. Increase the sparkle and lace count - What we wear to dress up in NA is what a lot of Uyghur ladies wear on a daily basis, they are all about looking their best and that means glitter. I am at least trying in this regard, buying more of my clothing from the local market, instead of having it sent over from Old Navy

4. High Heels - no matter how impractical and uncomfortable, Uyghur women's shoes must be high and they must be pointy ( this is one I will just never conform to).

5. No Camera - we took our camera all around town last week to capture faces and places that would demonstrate the wonder of the city when posted on this blog. Local people don't all have cameras, much less walk around town take such mundane and daily shots of the bread seller or the fruit cart.

6. The speed at which we walked- I really believe that the high heels do a lot to slow the women down.

What Men Want

Some of you might remember the 2000 movie staring Mel Gibson and Helen Hunt entitled "What Women Want". I have to admit to never having seen it, but I am up enough of modern pop cultural references to know that the premise is about a guys who is able to hear what women are thinking. Last weekend when my roommate and I were visiting down south, we felt like we were given a similar power, a chance to hear what men are thinking. No fluke accident was involved in our obtaining of this power, just the gift of being foreigners, and able to understand the language.

As we walked down the street guys would look right at us and say things like "Foreigner" "Wow they look Uyghur" or my personal favourite that we heard more than once "beautiful". None of these men had any idea that we could understand a word of what they were saying, they thought the comments were just falling on deaf ears, so we decided to have a little fun and thanked them for telling us we looked Uyghur. It was a compliment considering that we had tried and were dressed very local.
One husband and wife were having an argument in their carpet shop as to whether or not we really were Uyghur. The bus driver hated the fact that we were sitting near the back and he couldn't clearly hear our story, so he started to make up his own version of who we were and why we had come. According to him, and now what everyone who sat near the front of the bus firmly believes, I am Uyghur but my parents immigrated to Canada before I was born (which is why I look foreign and my skin is so white), but I have come back to work here and have great Uyghur because it is in my blood.

The Miracle of Air Travel.

This past weekend my roommate and I took a trip down south to check out a job opportunity for me. I have been to this city numerous times, but I have always travelled by train or sleeper bus, this time since we only had three days we decided to fly. What is normally a twenty four hour trip by land, only took us an hour and a half in the air... and the price wasn't that bad either. Our plane tickets probably cost us an extra $20 CAN, well worth it considering round trip we saved ourselves about 44 hours of travel. I think this is a turning point for me, a conversion to the miracle of air travel.

The trip itself was great. I was really impressed with the company, its office, and employees. They have an extra apartment that I will be able to rent. It is about the same size as I have now, but because of the cities remote location the price is half of what I pay now. Anyway here are some shots from around town.

A picture of the Old city as taken from the town ferris wheel

Motor bikes, the best way to get around town

New Friends

Great Architecture

Faces around town

Stop me!

I recently found a blog kept by another foreigner living in the same city that I do. I don't know the guy from a hole in the wall, but his opinion of this place has become unceasingly apparent through his writing and I quote:

This is foul, disgusting, backwards, dirty, horrible, filthy, unhygienic, irresponsible behaviour, and I cannot see why it is happening in a major city, in a region which borders so many other countries. What the hell kind of impression do you get of Central Asia if THIS is the first place you see, and THESE are the people who live here? I could understand if it was a village maybe, but a fairly developed city of 2 to 3 million people with cars and Internet, chain stores, internationally sourced goods?

Can you imagine Birmingham, Nice, or Dusseldorf with people like this? This place needs a kick up the arse .

I remember reading this and thinking... "do we were really live in the same city? Is this guy walking down the same streets and taking in the same sights that I am?" I love this place, these people the sights the sounds and the smells as I walk down the street.

And then I re-read my blog from yesterday complaining about the cold and coal dust, and I realised how easy it is to compare life here with the comforts of home and find it lacking. Maybe because the memory of home is viewed through rose coloured glasses, or maybe in the culture stress of not fitting in. But when I started with my blog a few years ago I did so with the purpose statement to others "Join with me as I discover the wonder of this created world and the diversity of its people" A constant digression into the small inconveniences of life hardly fulfills that goal. So please promise me, if I ever start sounding as disgruntled or unhappy with my life here like this fellow blogger is, please, please please STOP ME!!!!

Cold

April 15th is the magic day when the heat all over the city is turned off. It is a sign to all that spring has sprung, and that we have finally turned the corner out of our dismally dark winter. The air quickly clears out the remaining coal dust, and the mountains can be seen once again highlighting the bright blue skies.

That is until the temperatures drop and my first floor apartment gets so cold. When it is damp and cold outside there is no way to heat our apartments, it is like I go around with popcicles as figures for the last two weeks of April. I have to wear three layers in the house, but some days can strip down to short sleeves when I go outside. I miss the days when every house has its own thermostat and temperature control. Oh to be warm again.

Milestone

I noticed that my last post pushed me over another big blogging marker as it was post number 200 (sadly the topic of baby urine was not the most monumental way to celebrate such an accomplishment). On the KSA Daily's 100th birthday I asked people to leave comments indicating whether or not it was still worth my time and energy to record my insights and experiences in this fashion. After such a blatant plea for feedback and encouragement, I was sadly left with only four comments. Only four people took the time to respond, only four people asked that I continue. And so for those four people I have doubled my efforts and written another one hundred posts. But I must admit it is sometimes hard to keep going when I hear back more often from almost complete strangers, than I do from friends and family.

Recently one of my blogging friends asked her reading audience:

Is what I write about really that boring, or do you just have nothing to say???

You can be completely honest with me. Why doesn’t the majority of my readers leave a comment (that’s you if you’re reading this)???? I am just curious.