Day 16, Meeting New People

---

Day 16, July 10, 2009, Friday, Juma:

Yesterday was a good day. We are still in Bishkek, and I am beginning to learn how to get around here a bit. I am starting to know where the turns are coming when we are in a taxi coming home, and when we are headed to Vefa Center. That is actually a bit reassuring, since I don't seem to have the usual senses of North, South, East, and West here.

We were able to download the document that Emil had sent rather quickly. And I was able to access my bank accounts on line. I realized why there was a little problem getting money from the ATM earlier in the week. Before I left Houston, I left checks for the rent, for the electric bill, and a check for Emil in case he needed it to pay for his ticket to Kyrgyzstan. I thought the check to Emil would not be deposited right away, but it turns out he did so. I was able to initiate a transfer that made everything okay and keep me out of trouble. I also will be able to get a little cash when I need it, now.

Of course, I really don't need money except for the little extravagances that help define my character and allow me small gestures of generosity. Like buying potato chips, chocolate, and cookies to share with everyone. Our biggest expense are the taxi's that get us to the places we want to go. The fee from the house to the Vefa Center ranges from 50 to 100 Soms depending on the taxi driver. Timka refuses to ride with the Russian taxi drivers who he thinks are crazy and want too much. I am not too concerned about this price since it represents $2.30 American and I think that the same cab ride in Houston would be about $10.00. But he says it is because I am an American and that is why they want to charge me more. In general, I have not encountered any hostility in my dealings with anyone here. The clerks that I have talked to about the things that we need have been very helpful and the prices we have paid seemed reasonable to me. Actually, the battery charger for the Olympus camera was only 50 Soms or about $1.10. I had expected that it would be much more. And it appears that it will charge a number of different size lithium ion batteries.

The Ramstore grocery at Vefa Center has a great bakery and we found some cookies that were too appealing to pass up. The bakery is very French in its style. The cookies are all butter cookies but in wonderful shapes and flavors. So I selected ouch (3) of several styles and shapes for us to bring home with us. I also found the equivalent of Pringle's potato chips on the shelves of the market and we took three canisters of those, along with a bigger bag of M&M's than last time, four candy bars, and a new coffee cup for me, glass in a metal holder. Very modern and very me. I actually considered purchasing a set of tumblers in a tall size as a gift for the house. But Timka would just not let me do it. I will, of course, when I see the right thing. The selection at the Ramstor was okay, but not quite what I had in mind. I am going to buy a pitcher, so that I can make and keep some iced tea ready. Well, I guess we would say cold tea. Ice is not easy to come by even though this is a rather warm place. The temperature yesterday was again in the mid-90's. But the humidity is really only about 30 to 40 per cent. As a result, it feels cooler than it would in Houston in July.

We also met a number of people yesterday. Emil's friend Sapar works in an office at the Vefa Center's business section. And since it was lunch time, we saw him when we headed upstairs to have a Coca-Cola at the Yusa fast food place in the food court. He was with a friend, Ulan, and they were about to have lunch. Timka and I were invited to join them and I did so. For some reason, Timka was a little reluctant to sit down at the table with Sapar and me. Ulan was ordering the typical Turkish lunch of Donner pilaf and a salad. Finally, with Sapar's help, I got Timka to sit down.

Ulan speaks excellent English. He studied and got his university degree in Tiblisi, Georgia. He is the director of a pharmaceutical company in Bishkek. He is very Kyrgyz looking. He has a round face with Asian features and was very charming. He and I talked a great deal. His degree is in political sciences, he is married and they are expecting a child. We had a lively conversation and I enjoyed the opportunity to speak with an adult in English. I am not sure that my Kyrgyz is getting any better, even though I am expanding my vocabulary. I just don't seem to have enough verbs or understand the verb construction for present, past, or future tense. As a result, my conversations appear to be one word strung to another without the necessary action verbs. It is not very satisfying. Timka tired of the conversation early and began to urge me to drink up so we could go. I had to tell him that I was having a conversation and that it would be rude to leave before Ulan and Sapar had finished their first course. At any rate, we exchanged phone numbers and Ulan invited me to have Turkish coffee with him soon in the evening. I said I would, of course. I would love to know more about him and his experiences and to meet his wife and see where and how they live.

Timka and I decided to head back home. We had accomplished most of what I wanted to do when we set out. I had hoped to find a map of Bishkek yesterday. Boris, Emil's father, had said we would find them at the kiosk stores lining the various boulevards, but our attempts yesterday were not fruitful. I realize that Timka is extremely shy about asking for help or information. He gets a no from someone, but does not understand that you need to follow through with a question that asks if they person has an idea about where we might find one nearby. When I suggest that he do that, he refuses or just says “No, Calvin, we need to go.” I have tried to explain how the simple business of asking for help often opens people up to you and they will help you. But he seems a little afraid of exposing ignorance to others and wants to appear as superman. It is an interesting character trait and I am learning to find ways to overcome it. But it is a little frustrating at times.

While looking for the map, we encountered three graduates of his Turkish High School in Kysylkia who are now in Bishkek preparing for entry into the University. One of them, a young Uzbek I was told, was very happy to speak in English. Another was quite tall and had a wonderfully friendly face with a sly smile like he knew a great deal that he was keeping secret. The boy in the middle was not as talkative. But all of them had been at school with Timurlan and appeared to be truly happy to see him. They conversed for a few moments, I asked them about their preparatory test to enter University. Two had passed, the Uzbek youngster still needed to pass one part of it, I think. I would like to have spent more time with them, but again Timka was rushing us on to find a taxi. I have also noticed this quality about other Kyrgyz I have known. They do not encourage the casual encounter that sometimes provides new friendships. They are like Americans of the Northeast, they have developed friendships in their schools, they have gone to the same universities, their families are connected by place, position, and social status. Here the family provides most of what you need in terms of relationships of a true and positive nature. Cousins are close, we see uncles and aunts, and their children at least once a week. Even Dushen who lives in Kysylkia comes to Bishkek about once a week with produce and supplies that are shared with the entire family. So the development of friendships outside of those provided by school, family, and some associations, appears to be limited. For a born and bred Texan, of course, that is really unusual. I was trained from the time I was quite small to introduce myself to everyone we encountered, be prepared to ask about their families, their work, their politics even. My father always introduced me to everyone that he knew from his friends, to frequent passengers on his city bus, to the tradesmen and clerks in retail stores. We met and knew the people who served us in the Piccadilly Cafeteria line. We treated every person as a potential friend. That is not true here. There is a kind of suspicion that seems ingrained, if not inbred, of those who are not part of your social group or family.

Myself, I have often found that when I ask for help, that it is rewarding and I get the the help. And it has been true in other cultures in Europe and in Mexico and South America. It would seem odd to me if that were not also the case in Central Asia originally, given the nomadic heritage. But social conventions usually grow out of the circumstances of life. I have to believe that the rather long period of Soviet domination and influence, this suspicious trait has been acquired in the culture and is not normal. My judgment about this arises because I find that when I meet or am introduced to new people, there is a curiosity and a charm that are awakened. And when I am forthcoming and make small jokes, everyone laughs and ducks their heads.

At any rate. No map. A taxi that is acceptable to Timka is found and we are back home shortly, where I take a nap, and he goes off to run down the battery in the phone by listening to more rap and hip-hop music. Remind me to do a little essay on the destruction of foreign cultures by rap music.

The evening was capped by a dinner of a meat and onion pie with a little rice in it called [i[oromo in a fabulous crust that Ainura had created accompanied by a tomato, cucumber and onion salad. Then it was on to what I think is a really wonderful treat, watermelon and what appears to be a version of those Tuscan cantaloupes that we see in Houston from time to time. Absolutely ripe, locally produced, in season produce like this cannot be beat for ending a meal on a positive note.

Timka and I retired to my room where we watched Robocop 3 on the television dubbed in Russian. I was beat and fell asleep after a very short time. Later he woke me and told me to get into the bed. I slept well. I actually slept in until almost 8 am this morning, which for me is really late. It is about 9:50 am now and I am beginning to get a little hungry. This morning the girls showed me a big bowl full of unbaked bread dough, and I think I can smell it baking in an oven out in the outside kitchen. I need to get my camera and check it out.

---

Photos

Purple blossoms
More flowers

A red bloom
More of the flowers at home

Fresh Baked Nan
A soda bread, baked about once a week in abundance to feed the family and guests

Star Lily in Pink
A beautiful flower around the house