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Published: June 22nd 2014
Oh Kyrgyzstan, how you have tricked me. I thought I would come to you and I would blog everyday (more like once every two weeks, but one can fantasize of grandeur), I thought I would be living in a yurt (or at least in something made of fossilized cow offal), and I thought I would be full of distaste having to learn a completely new language…(That ones true). But here I am, have not blogged for over a month, and am getting absolute shit from those who have the guts to complain about it cough*KevinandSueKydd*cough.
So my sincere apologies for not having blogged in a while, but in this blog I hope to make up for some of it by relating the wonder that is living in the Kyrgyz Republic, thus far. And yes, outhouses, dysentery, stifling heat, and sheep meat will come into play. So have no fear.
So lets back up a bit. For the last 2 months I had been living in a small village about 40 minutes outside of Bishkek, for the 2 month Pre-Service Training (PST) that the Peace Corps offers (read: forces) all volunteers to take. PST is a
blessing and a curse. You receive intensive language, cultural, and technical training, it allows you to build phenomenal relationships with your fellow PC Volunteers (PCV’s, yay acronym soup!), and you get to live with local families, who have all been trained to expect the oddities that are our Western Ways: What do you mean you don’t want to eat sheer sheep fat?; You’re going running? Where to?; You are the worst hand launderer alive. These families are also what we have come to learn are ‘sympathetic listeners’, meaning they are very patient as we learn/butcher the Kyrgyz language, and help us learn by continually giving us the words of objects around us. The Kyrgyz word for honey you may ask, yes so did I. Multiple times. And I still can’t remember the word for chair.
So my family welcomed me into their home, and allowed me to play with their kids, which is surprising in itself. I ended up having a ton of fun playing with my little 3 year old brother Ernazar, or Ero for short. I’m not sure if he was crazy before I got there or if I made him more so, but we
had fun. And I found out having a kid around isn’t so bad. So what they say is true, the Peace Corps does change your perceptions of life, sigh. Especially when said perception is running around in little more than underwear waving a green light up plastic sword. So totally safe. Admittedly, I have also held him out a window so he could see what was going on outside. Yep, just call me Michael Jackson!
Hello everybody, I have moved this blog, and all blogs published after this blog to my new blog www.seehertravel.com
. You can find the rest of this post at http://www.seehertravel.com/kyrgyzstan-for-real/
Check out my new site!
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