Summer, Take 2

Two weeks down south. A week home. A week up north. A week home. Five days in Georgia. Three weeks at home, followed by almost four weeks away, and summer is gone. My verdict: keep yourself at home if you want to feel whole. Drag yourself around the world if you want adventure. Or try to do both if your goal is a ragged, somewhat confused funk. You can’t have it all, folks. Pausing to consider some highs and lows, I rewind first to…

The Fourth of July
Strangely enough, American embassies celebrate Independence Day. And here in Kazakhstan, some PCVs are invited to attend. I enjoyed my time on embassy grounds last year, and considered doing the same again. As the date drew nearer, we first assumed we could come, but then many were told that we couldn’t come. Rather than wait and cross my fingers for a re-invite, I went to the closest computer and bought myself a ticket to Tbilisi. (The only logical choice. Oh, and the re-invite came a week or two later. ;)

More or less inadvertently, I timed it all so I could enjoy a bit of both worlds. I caught a bus to Astana on the 2nd, where I joined Noelle in the apartment of an incredibly hospitable embassy couple, Craig and Leslie. Oh, the wonders of high-end housing in the capital, paired with impeccable American style hospitality. Ah, *contented sigh*. On the 3rd, we woke up to fresh brewed coffee. A delicious omelet. And fried bacon. Food worth stretching your stomach and clogging your arteries, no doubt about it.

The evening’s festivities were equally wondrous, with a rooftop party where English filled the air. Volunteers, embassy employees, and other Americans working in town congregated for food and fun. Sadly, I could only stay for a bit, as I had a plane to catch at 1am. Craig, who had effortlessly slid into the role of father-for-the-day, insisted on driving me to the airport, saving me from any taxi hassles. (Blessings to parents around the world who care for young adults as they would their own grown children, trusting that other parents are doing the same for their sons and daughters.)

And so, without a hitch, I landed in the capital of Georgia, where I met up with Anna and her friend Jessica. We enjoyed the day in Tbilisi, where we were lucky enough to meet up with a couple Georgian Peace Corps Response Volunteers, one of whom just finished three years with PC in KZ (you rock, Mary!). Traditional cuisine for lunch. American food for dinner. We found our way to a bar with stars-and-stripes table coverings. One look at the menu and the decision was made. Jessica and I split an Obama burger. Happy birthday, America.

თბილისი (Tbilisi)
“Hello, my name is Denise. I’m calling to inform you that I’ll be traveling to Tbilisi, the capital of the country of Georgia.”
The receptionist at my American bank transfers me to another department so I can repeat myself to a woman concerned with such matters. She asks me to repeat the location once more.
“T-bili-si.”
“And you’ll spell that for me?” she confidently requests, not yet wanting to expose how completely confused she is by all of this.
“And Georgia – is that spelled like our Georgia?”
Smiling patiently, I confirm that it is. And then her ignorance is laid bare.
“Is that in Russia?”
“No, ma’am, it is it’s own country.”

And a beautiful country it is. During our time there, we explored Tbilisi’s Old Town and took day trips away from the capital to explore Kazbegi and Gori. The scenery on the way to and around Kazbegi is breathtaking. And on our adventures in and around Gori, we explored a cave city and toured the town’s Stalin museum, complete with the house in which he was born.

Goes without saying that everywhere we went, we stuffed ourselves to the gills. Khachapuri is a food I could eat every day for the rest of my life. While in the country, I averaged 2 orders a day of the deliciously cheesy bread. You’ve also got hinkhali (fist-sized dough pockets filled with meat or mushrooms or potatoes or cheese), lobio (red beans with a fabulous spice blend), and a mouth-watering walnut paste that’s great with eggplant or kidney beans. It took a few days back in KZ to remember what hunger felt like.

Reality Check
Back on the ground in Kazakhstan after my return from Georgia, I was finally looking at more than seven days at site. Only by then, it had turned into close to twenty days with little to do and lots to brood over. I’ll tell you what, deciding to stay a third year feels very different when that reality is months away, your friends are all still in-country, and you’ve got a school schedule to keep you busy. Mid-July, my fellow 21s were prepping to go back, and I was struggling to reconnect with local friends I’d been ditching all summer for week-long stints elsewhere. Suffice to say, it was a rough couple of weeks.

Enough moping around, and I clawed my way out of my funk. An evening with one of my favorite English teachers and a long overdue housewarming brought back the sense that I just might belong here. And an invitation to go to Karkaralinsk put a skip back in my step.

Karkaralinsk (aka Karkaraly)
Quick side note – so, so many towns here have 2 names: the old Russian name and the new Kazakh name. Some new names have stuck. For many more towns, the old just won’t go away. Often, the names are completely different, inevitably causing confusion. Others are just a Kazakh-ified version. Thus, Karkaralinsk (Russian) and Karkaraly (Kazakh).

Either name, it’s a gorgeous place. Many locals vacation there at little… resort centers? Sanatoriums? They’ve got basic hotel rooms, gyms, outdoor cafés, swimming areas, etc. Others stay outside the sanatorium in areas reserved for tent campers. I just assumed the locals I accompanied would stay at a sanatorium, where I could take a shower and sleep in a regular bed. Try again.

As we filled the trunk with our baggage, I spotted two tents. A quick mental check and I confirmed that I was prepared for this little twist. We sped through the steppe until we reached the forested hills of Karkaraly. Next on the list: set up camp. We paid a small fee at a checkpoint and tried to follow the man’s directions to the camping area. That led us to four small cabins. The woman tending to them confessed that they were all full, but for 500tenge, we could pitch our tent on the grass nearby. We mulled this over as we piled back in the car to explore other options. We found nothing but other people trying to talk us out of even more money, so we made our way back.

Before parting with any cash, the five of us checked out the proposed spot again, and admired the forest down the hill. In the afternoon quiet, I could make out the faint sound of music from the trees. Soon we were off to investigate, despite cries from the woman to not stray too far. Five minutes later, we were in the forest talking to tent campers who had set up for free. Heh. We swiftly returned to our car and set up camp where we should have been in the first place.

The weekend turned out to be a wonderful escape, with hikes into the rocky hills and a morning spent sitting around a little lake. Only thing missing was marshmallows to roast over our campfire after demolishing round after round of shashlik. Good thing I have another summer to rectify that. :)

August
All of that excitement closed out July. For August, I was to be away from my site all but 8 days. For over two weeks, I lived out of a suitcase in Almaty, acting as a training assistant for the Kaz-23’s pre-service training, part 2. Gave me a chance to meet the newest group to the country and play my part in keeping an Indian restaurant open for business. Ah, dinner there alone is worth the trip down.

After that, it was off to Rostovka for a 5-day sleep-away camp. I joined 11 other volunteers to teach lessons, play games, and just hang out with kids. Just enough volunteers that we were kept busy, yet had enough down time to maintain our sanity all week long.

Now, back at site, I’m gearing up for school to begin. You know, reading magazines that came in the latest package, going on leisurely runs through the forest, and playing table tennis with friends. It’s going to be a great school year, but what I’m really excited about is Summer, Take 3. :) Something tells me it’ll be here before I know it.