The Amazing Adventures of Kyrgyzstan and Col

Chapter Ten: OK, you're right.

Camping last week, while a good decision has been the direct cooralation of what Sheila would call post-nasal drip and intense blowing of the nose. I think taking not one but two Benadryls last night on the other hand, was not such a good decision. All morning I've felt as if in a haze. And I don't even have allergies.

On my way back home after camping in Cholpon-Ata, which entailed singing Disney classics over a struggling fire, I rode the Kyrgyz version of America's finest nation-wide bus travel company, Greyhound. The major difference I'll say is that here in Krgyzstan, you never run out of seats. Well you do, but that doesn't stop the driver from pulling over to the side of the rode, and letting everyone and their donkey come on in. I wanted to die. My saving grace were my headphones and the ironwill I possessed to keep my eyes closed, pretending I was lying in a hammock on the southern shore of somewhere beautiful.

I made it back to Karakol, and despite the blisters on the back of my heels from hiking, I walked up to the bazaar and got in the last cab available back to my village. Anticipating a quiet drive back to the J.O., I was surpised when I was attacked with the game 20 Questions by the Apa sitting beside me in the back seat. Within minutes of finding out where and what I studied in university and where my family orginates from, she all but destroyed any shred of self-confidence I possessed, telling me that I didn't read enough, and that if I ever wanted to be a journalist, I better start soon. Maybe if I had been able to argue in my mother tongue, I would have been able to express that in fact I can and do read. And while it may be hard to believe, I have heard of John Steinbeck and read Russian literature. And just because my family comes from Ireland, that does not mean that I am obligated to know and have read every Irish author in the history of mankind. She told me I wasn't a patriot. Whatever that means.

It's a good thing the parental units knew enough to give me a call later that night, reinstilling my confidence. I guess it's ok and normal for not everyone I meet to treat me like a goddess. I can live with that.

Now that the weather is getting nice, my students are opting out of school more frequently. I only had one lesson this morning, but no one came, so instead I sat at my desk, studying my Kyrgyz. I was learning how to say, "I can play volleyball, but I don't want to." Complex sentences. Tomorrow is my rayon's volleyball tournament, but I'm not really feeling it. I'd rather hit up the fields and help plant potatoes.

I wanted to post random pictures, but there's two, now three, other PCVS over my shoulder, waiting for me to finish this, so that we can all grab something to eat.

Hope things are well with you all. I send my love.

posted by C @ 11:53 AM