Driving in -40º C (Driving a Car in Astana part 2)

Miraculously, my car got fixed right before -40º weather hit.  (-40º C = -40º F, by the way.)  We had a week in which the high never got above -30º C, and it got below -40º the day after school got out for winter vacation.  (Local schools close at some temperature in the -20s or -30s; we don't get out until it's below -40 at 6 in the morning, when our school buses start running.)

I was excited to have a car, and drove over 150 km in one weekend.  Rather unsure how I did that...

I haven't yet bought the system to remotely turn on the car, so it takes about 10 minutes to warm up.  Which is about how long it takes to walk to school.  So we had to leave extra early in order to drive to school!  The car garage for my apartment is not connected to the building, so we had to get all bundled up just to walk to the car, and by the time I got there, my fingers felt like ice!  I learned that I need to wear my liner gloves plus my sheepskin gloves, even for short distances in -40.

The day my car was fixed, I left it in front of the school for several hours, and then it wouldn't turn on.  My friend who'd fixed it told me to press the gas pedal several times and then try to turn it on.  This worked, thankfully.  He'd also bought a new, nicer battery, and upped the voltage or something like that, so he said it should turn on in cold weather.

On Saturday, I turned on the car, waited 10 minutes, and then drove Sophia to a friend's house, and then all of them to another home.  My friend had been trying to get a taxi, since she doesn't like to drive in this weather, but none were available, due to the weather.

It was a hazy -40, and I can't quite remember if all -40 weather is like this.  But it was so hard to see!  The smoke coming out of each and every car was immense, and when cars started after a light changed to green, you couldn't see--it was like being lost in thick, thick fog. I inched my car along, so slowly and so carefully, careful, too, because of the layer of ice that was on the roads (I do have winter tires, luckily!)  My car's shock absorbers don't work well, and so we bounced a lot, because the roads were rather bumpy, with ice patches and all.

I inched the car to the other house and went inside with my friend and the kids.  After a short while, I got back in, to drive to Khan Shatyr (the tent-like mall) to meet another friend to lunch.  Again, it was hard to see due to the haze and smoke.

At Khan Shatyr, I circled the entire building before finding the entrance for indoor parking--it seemed to be closed, and cars were lining up waiting to get in.  My guess was that it was full.  I called my friend, who said my car should be fine parked outside, as long as I turned it on every 90 minutes or so.

After lunch, I went back to the car, waited for 10 minutes while it warmed up, and then went back inside the mall to do grocery shopping.  Then I went to get gas (having read somewhere that in this weather you should keep your tank as close as possible to full).  Then I met my friend and the kids at another mall (they'd found and taken a taxi).  We stayed less than two hours, and huddled together in my car for another 10 minutes while it warmed up. I took my friend home, Sophia to a sleepover, then drove to the other side of town to visit with a friend.  I was getting my driving practice!

Driving at nighttime was even scarier than driving in daytime.  It was harder to see, everything was haze and darkness with bright lights here and there.  Lanes are hard enough to see normally, and cars often make their own lanes, and I'm still figuring out the traffic lights here (they're not all located in the same spot; and if there is a left turn signal and it's not on, you can't turn left--but if it's not on, it's hard to tell if there normally is one, because if there isn't a left turn signal, then you can turn left on a regular green....)  Again, I drove slowly and carefully--and safely, luckily!

The next day I picked Sophia up from the sleepover, and drove a friend home--back to the other side of town!  I went inside and had tea with the friend's mother while the girls played.   She has a car, a remote for turning it on, but no garage.  So in this weather she has to turn it on every two hours!  Luckily she can do this from inside her apartment.  She has a 5-month old baby, who wakes up every two hours, so when the baby wakes up, she turns on the car.  Convenient, if tiresome, schedule.

Another friend had told me about her first year in Astana, three years ago, when she had a car but no garage or remote system.  Every two hours in the freezing weather, she would wake up and go outside and sit in her car for 10 to 15 minutes for it to warm up.  She's grateful now to have both a remote system and indoor parking!

What dedication you must have to have a car in Astana winter!

However, as I drove around on this -40 weekend, scared because of the limited visibility, scared because of the ice, scared because of how frigid it was outside, I was so incredibly grateful to have a car, work and all.  Yes, it took months to fix, yes it still needs lots of repairs, yes, it takes 10 minutes to get started in the mornings, and yes, I have to go outside to warm it up every two hours (if it's parked outside), but it was -40 outside and I was warm inside my car.  I was able to get around Astana, not cooped up in my apartment or reliant on others.  I wasn't outside for more than several minutes at a time.

A car is hard work, lots of money, and bad for the environment.  But in -40 I think it's worth it.

Update:  One thing I hadn't mentioned...  The snow, of course, covers the roads and turns to ice, but the snow plows do a good job of clearing it up... Except often they don't clear the far right lane very much.  So usually the roads become one lane smaller during the winter, and the far right lanes are used just when turning or for taxis.
 
My previous post on driving in Astana is here.

The Difference between -20 and -40

-20º C is cold.  -40º C is painful.

Sometimes it's just so cold!

I've been here over 3 years now, and I've been outside in -40º weather (that's the same in Celsius as in Fahrenheit!)  And I've gotten to the point where if it's warmer than -20º C (-4º F) I just don't think much about it.

But some days it just feels much colder!

I know there's wind and humidity to take into account, and I know these make a big difference.  0º C (32º F) here is just so much warmer than 0º C in my hometown or in Germany, where it's humid and often cloudy.  Here, it's often sunny and dry.  Very nice.

You also have to take clothing into account.  If it's above -20º C, as I said, I don't think much about it.  So I might not put on my super-insulated Columbia boots (not as attractive as my other boots...) or wear a balaclava (ski mask) and I definitely won't wear ski goggles!

Last night hovered between -11 and -15º C, and I wore my ankle-high fur-lined boots, thick tights, and my autumn coat, and I was fine.  My friend complained as we walked the 15-minute walk from my place to the British Embassy; she was wearing regular tights.

Today the temperature was about the same, I threw on regular tights and my knee-high fur-lined boots and Sophia and I went to church.  The church's heating system is barely there, and we were cold throughout Mass.

Then we took a bus to Congress Hall to buy tickets for upcoming concerts.  Still cold, we waited outside Congress Hall for Bus 32.

We waited for half an hour.

My first year here, I bought cheap fur-line boots that kept my toes warm in cold weather.  Those were cheaply made and fell apart after one winter; every winter since then I've tried to find a similar pair; I've spent more money but have yet to find something that keeps me warm.  (Other than my unattractive Columbia boots, which I reserve for colder weather.)

My toes froze then grew numb then burned.  Sophia had on her Columbia brand boots, but she hadn't laced them or even tightened the laces.  She didn't have a scarf, snowpants, or extra layer of pants.  We froze as we waited for the bus.  I jumped up and down and wiggled my toes.

Finally, I went to hail a taxi.  The first guy drove away (don't know why he had stopped in the first place...), the second asked for more than 500 Tenge (about $3.33), so did the third.  I guess they know it's cold so they can ask for a lot!  (500 Tenge is the usual price I pay, which is more than locals pay.)   When I was walking away, though, the third guy opened his door and asked me how much I wanted.  I said 500 Tenge, he agreed, we got in.

We had him drop us off near our home, and then, because we were cold, we did a silly thing--we ran!  The ground is covered with snow and ice, the wind is a fierce 32 kilometers per hour (19 mph) and we ran.  "Just don't trip!" I said to Sophia and I thought we were being careful.

We rounded a corner and --boom!-- she slipped and smashed her back straight into the pointy concrete corner.  She let out a wail I haven't heard from her in years.  It was too cold to stop, so we hurried inside.  In our apartment, I noticed that the concrete had managed to tear her super-thick winter coat and scratch her back.  Ouch!

And now we're inside, trying to get warm and get the strength to go back outside, brave this again.  We'll definitely dress more warmly!

But sometimes -16º just feels so much colder!!!

They pay you how much?!

A friend's teenaged relative was working at one of the cafes on the top floor of Artyom, the huge, cheap bazaar/shopping center.  She said she was paid 1000 Tenge (less than $7) for an entire day of work.

Wow.  Yes, that's against the law here, but apparently the law isn't too well followed.

Poor Advertising

A friend of mine is a violinist for the State Philharmonic Orchestra, and he called me about a week ago to inform me of a concert for this past Tuesday.  So this weekend I went to Congress Hall, the place to buy tickets for these events.  (Contrary to what I'd initially thought, Congress Hall has nothing to do with government, it's a large venue for music as well as markets.  Though it's usually popular music, so the music I listen to is never there, just the tickets.)

I'd learned from a music-loving friend that Congress Hall is where you go not only to buy tickets, but to find out about events.  They have posters saying what's coming up.  Well, I couldn't see any posters for this event.

So I went to the cashier and tried my best to ask, "Is there a concert on 4th December?"  But she didn't understand my question.

So I went home and checked my email--I'm on their email list--and although I had an email with December events, this particular concert was not on it.   I also double-checked their web site, which hadn't been updated since August or September.  Then I asked a friend to call Congress Hall, they said it was sold out.  I remembered that I'd seen a sign for some concert at Congress Hall on that date, they probably meant that one.  (How can something that's not been advertised be sold out?)  So I texted my friend, who responded that it was not sold out, please come!

I realized that I hadn't clarified where this concert would be, I'd just been assuming it would be in the Organ Hall at the National Music Academy, but there are other venues for classical music concerts.  So Tuesday morning my friend called the National Music Academy and they gave her another number to call, and the lady there said she didn't know.  What?  How can you not know if there is or isn't a concert?!

Well... I was lucky enough to find a friend who was willing to go to this mysterious concert with me and was quite able to be content should it turn out that it did not exist.

We arrived there on time, there was almost nobody there, but we were informed that there was indeed a concert, and it was free.

My friend and a pianist were the only two performing, stars of the show!

But there were only about 12 people in the entire audience.

How awful!

The music was absolutely fantastic, and I enjoyed every second of it.  It was truly a shame that nobody was there because nobody had heard about it!!!

Also, it started at 6 pm, and this is a country where most people don't get off work until 6 pm.  I had a few other friends who'd wanted to come, but couldn't, due to work.

Afterwards, an older lady who seemed to be in charge apologised for the lack of people, giving some excuse as to her water pipes breaking so she couldn't put out the advertisements in time.  Hmm...

On the plus side, we went out afterwards to tea--my co-worker, the violinist, a Kazakh woman, and a Brazilian from the Brazilian Embassy.  I was the only non-Russian speaker in group, and two of them (the violinist and the Kazakh) didn't speak English, so the language of conversation was Russian.  The Brazilian, being not a native speaker, spoke slowly and clearly, and my co-worker excels at repeating what's being said, slowly and in simple language, and so I was able to follow along most of the conversation.  I wasn't able to say much more than "da" (yes), but still, I was quite proud of myself!

For me, it was an excellent evening.  But how frustrating for the musicians!!!

I talked today to a co-worker, who said that our music teacher, who frequents these kinds of events, says that that happens a lot.  That the events just are poorly advertised, and few people show up.  How frustrating to be a musician in Astana!

How my students must feel...

An advantage to teaching a foreign language while living in a foreign country is that I can experience first-hand what my students must feel like.  Are they wide-eyed and bewildered by the language that surrounds them?  Well, I certainly have had my fair share of times when people were speaking to me in Russian or Kazakh and I didn't understand.

What's hard is when students reach a certain level (called "Basic Interpersonal Communication Skills") where they can interact in a social setting, have basic conversations, yet they still don't quite understand.

It's harder still when they're beyond that, they can interact in a classroom setting, they can follow directions, they can read and write responses to what they've read, and yet... Their English isn't fully there.  But it's hard to realize that, and it's hard to have experiences to help you understand.

Years ago I studied French.  I went to Paris and took classes in French, I dated a French guy who didn't speak English, I got a Bachelor's degree in French.  I was never perfectly fluent, but I was close.  Then I spent over ten years not using it.  I can still read nearly fluently in French, but I have to work hard to keep up the rest (which I don't really do, being in Kazakhstan...)

I recently learned that the Catholic Church here has Mass in French sometimes, and I made friends with a French woman who text-messages me when she learns when the Mass will be.  So I have dragged Sophia several times to Mass in French.  (Poor child!)

Catholic Mass is a great place to practice a new language, because most of the Mass is a repetition week after week--the same prayers, just in different languages.  And of the parts that change weekly, most are set in stone, on a rotating 3-year schedule, and I have a missal--a master book with all the different parts for every Sunday of every year, in English.  So I can follow along in any language.  And I have downloaded and printed the Mass in French, and have a copy of the Mass in Russian.

The homily is the hardest part.  It's usually about 10 minutes long, and this part is unique to each Mass and to each priest.  The priests write their own homilies, often connecting the readings to their congregations.  You cannot download these from the internet or buy these in a book.

I remember that when I lived in Paris, it took most of the year for me to be able to understand the homilies (despite the fact that I had been studying French for quite some time at this point!)

This evening, as I was listening to the homily, it made me think of my students...  If I really concentrate, I can understand 90%, meaning I can get the gist as well as some details.  But if my attention strays for just a moment, it takes tremendous effort to get back on track and figure out what the priest is saying.  In the end, I understand, but I'm mentally exhausted, and I didn't get everything.

About half of my students are probably in English where I am in French.  They can do it, they can listen and pay attention, but they don't get everything, and it takes a lot of effort for them to get what they do.  And they're only 8 years old!

Sometimes I need an experience like this to help me reflect and realize just what school must be like for my students.  I think of how nice it would be if the priest would speak more slowly and use visuals.  (I do use visuals, but how often do I forget myself and speak too fast?)  And I am so proud of my students for how well they do, despite their obstacles!

The Case of the Flickering Lights

On my first night in my current apartment (I moved in at the end of June), I noticed that the hallway lights never fully go off.  When you turn them off, they flicker.

Being a light sleeper who prefers absolute darkness, this annoyed me; however, I do wear an eye mask to sleep, so I mostly ignored it.

My hunch was that the lights were like this on purpose, so it's never dark in the hallways, so you can find your way to the bathroom at night.

Recently, I was talking to a co-worker's husband, who has lots of experience in all things technical and mechanical.  Their apartment had the same flickering lights issue.  He bought some gadget to measure electrical output, and saw that the light switch was putting out quite a bit of electricity, even when off.  Not only is this a waste of electricity (and more money on your bill), but it means that the light is NEVER off, so if you go to change it, you can get quite a shock!

He said the problem had to do with the light switch, it wasn't turning off properly, and he was able to fix the ones in his home.  He's currently working on fixing my car (long story!) and after that, he has on his agenda to fix the light switches of everyone who has this problem (I'm not the only one).

How interesting!  And how frustrating!  But hopefully soon the problem will be fixed!

Halloween in Astana

Halloween isn't exactly a holiday that is celebrated here, although in the Mega mall, there was a sign advertising Halloween from 6 to 8 pm on the 31st.

Our school has a Fall Festival every year in October, and for most of the students, this is Halloween.  They get very excited in the weeks leading up to it, they arrive in costume (sometimes elaborately so), and they play games and get candy.  This year and last, the middle and high school put on an appropriately spooky haunted house.  (That is, it was quite spooky and well-done, but not really scary, which is appropriate considering the small children who went through it.)

The American Embassy had some Halloween event, but as far as I know, people outside the embassy weren't invited.  Highvill, an apartment complex catering to foreigners, also hosted a Halloween event.

This year another embassy hosted a Halloween party that I was invited to.  I invited two friends, found a babysitter for Sophia, and then focused on figuring out costumes.  I've never actually been to a Halloween party before!

My friend A. came over a few hours early to do my make-up.  Over the summer, I'd found a dress at a vintage store that looked very much like a prairie girl dress, and I'd worn this to the Fall Festival.  To be more spooky, A. made me look like a zombie (zombie prairie girl!).  She painted a spider's web on her face, dressed in black, and called herself a black widow.  Y. wore a fancy Bollywood-style outfit that I had bought for Sophia.  (Yes, Sophia's the same size as some grown-ups.)

We hailed a cab from the street, and wondered what the driver must have thought of us!  (Especially me!)

The party was what you would expect from a Halloween party--a large, spooky house with cobwebs, skeletons, a coffin, and even a severed talking head on the table!  Everyone was dressed up, and you could tell that lots of people had to scramble for ideas, since there really isn't a Halloween costume shop in Astana.  Costumes do go on sale around New Year's, since people dress up then, but they aren't very spooky.  There was lots of elaborate scary make-up, giving A. ideas for next year.

Overall, it was great fun, and I enjoyed showing my friends what Halloween is like.  We're already thinking about next year!

Meeting Conductors and Musicians

Concert/ballet/opera season has started, and this year, my friend R. and I have vowed to attend more events!  The National Music Academy opened with a 2-part Mozart concert.  We attended Friday night without the children and Sunday evening with the children.  R. even brought her 3-year old niece, who was surprising well-behaved for a 3-year old.  (She did sleep through some of it.)

When we arrived on Sunday, we discovered that the power was out.  It was still light outside (5:00) and so they brought the musicians downstairs, to the entrance hall.  People went to other rooms to find chairs, even a couch was brought out.  We took a seat in the very front.  Some older Kazakh ladies were quite disturbed that I was sitting on cold the floor, but I was pleased to be up front.

The conductor and solo violinist are famous in Kazakhstan, and both seemed to have a good attitude about the power outage.  They played, and as they played, the sun set, the room darkened, and workers brought out tea candles.  After the first part, though, they had people bringing cell phones and the musicians were straining to see their sheets.  "We'll play until we can no longer sing!" the solo violinist said.

Then, as if on cue, the power came on, and everyone cheered and retreated to the organ hall.  There they finished their concert, and we cheered loudly for an encore.  I'm learning how much I love the sound of Mozart, played live.

Last year, when we took the girls to the ballet Coppelia, after the ballet, we went on-stage and then backstage, and we ended up meeting and talking to the head ballerina, and the girls had their photo taken with her.  So I suggested we try the same!

We didn't go back stage, but we did see the conductor, who was happy to have his photo taken with the girls.  After him, there was just one musician left, a violinist, who asked us to take his photo with some other people.  Then he obliged to have his photo taken with the girls.  They were so happy.  (Except for the 3-year old, who for some reason was frightened.)

A week later, we took the girls to the opera "Othello."  Beforehand, I'd printed out a summary of the plot (it's convoluted!) and did my best to explain it to the girls.  We also watched some of it on youtube, which helped prepare them for the opera.

We went with a large group of people (including one of the Mozart violinists), and everyone, except the kids and the violinist, enjoyed it.  The kids got bored and restless (they enjoyed some, but two hours is a long time for children!) and the violinist said that the orchestra and singing weren't really good.

After the show, I said, let's go on-stage again! Why not?  We took the girls' photo on stage and then met the orchestra's conductor, who spoke English and was happy to have his photo taken.

I like being able to take the children on-stage or backstage, to meet the people involved in the production that they just saw.  I think it helps make the experience more real for them.  They always have such big smiles on their faces when they get to meet someone important.

In Search of Peanut Butter - Updated!

A How-To Guide for Finding Peanut Butter in Astana, Kazakshtan

**Update on 30 August, 2013:  Metro seems to no longer have it.  However, Fine Foods does.

**Update on 25 May, 2013:  There have been numerous peanut butter sightings at Metro.  The brand is HyTop and it tastes slightly better than the Shop Rite brand you usually find in Astana.  It still has partially hydrogenated oils (most American peanut butters have this, which is incredibly unhealthy.)

Metro is located outside of Astana, on the road that leads to Karaganda.  At some point this road is called Abylai Khana.  Bus 32 and a few others come out to Metro.  Depending on your current location, it may take 1 to 3 hours to get to Metro via bus.  You also need a Metro card in order to get in; however, this is easy to get.

So I recommend starting at Metro first, it is your best bet at this time.  And you can use a credit card there.  If you can't find it at Metro, or really don't want to go there, following is a list of where to search for peanut butter.

…

Before you start, make sure you have enough cash to buy as much peanut butter as you'll need for the next 6 months, since there will be a good chance that you won't see it again for that long.  Peanut butter runs about 1000 Tenge ($7) a jar.  I think that most stores that sell peanut butter do accept credit cards, but I'm not sure of this.

1)  Go to the bottom floor of Khan Shatyr, into the Green supermarket.  I've never found peanut butter in Green, but I have found American items, so there's always a chance!

2)   Wander every aisle and look everywhere.  It could be on the lowest aisle, it could be hidden behind other food, it could be near the yogurt.  The best chances are amongst the jelly, honey, and Nutella, usually near the cereal and the coffee.

3)  Cross the street and go to the Alma supermarket in the Asia Park shopping center.  Peanut butter has previously been found in other Alma stores.

4)  Repeat step 2 in Alma.

5)  Find the Bekker supermarket.  If you exit Asia Park and are facing the mosque, turn left and cross the street.  You want to go under the bridge.  There are restaurants here and a small supermarket will be on your right, called Bekker.  It is here where I recently found peanut butter, at over 1000 Tenge a jar.
**Update:  This store no longer exists. **

6)  Repeat step 2 in Bekker.

7)  Head towards the Mega shopping mall.  You can walk there or take bus 35.  Or you can walk back to Khan Shatyr and take bus 43 or 46.  Go to the Ramstore supermarket in Mega.

8)  Repeat step 2 in Ramstore.

9)  Walk towards the circus, cross Kabanbai Batyr Street, to the building with the big Turkish Airlines sign on top of it.  There is another Alma supermarket here.

10)  Repeat step 2 in this Alma.

11)  Go to the bus stop on Kabanbai Batyr Street.  Take bus 30 or 42, getting off at the corner of Abai and Valikhonov Streets.  The Zhanur shopping center is here; inside is Smoll.  Several years ago I could find peanut butter here on a regular basis.

12)  Repeat step 2 in Smoll.

13)  Walk down Valikhonov Street towards the Artyom shopping center/bazaar. You'll pass by another Green supermarket on your right.  I've never found peanut butter here, but it's worth a try.

14)  Repeat step 2 in Green.

15)  Continue towards Artyom.  Across the street from Artyom is a shopping center with another Ramstore.

16)  Repeat step 2 in this Ramstore.

17)  Walk or take a bus down Seifulin Street to Respublika Street.  Get off at the corners of Seifulin and Respublika and turn right.   Another Alma supermarket will be on your left.

18)  Repeat step 2 in this Alma.

19)  Get on a bus to go down Respublika, towards the Rainbow Bridge.  Get off before the Rainbow bridge and walk towards the tall yellow building.  There's another Ramstore here.

20) Repeat step 2 in this Ramstore.

21)  Find a bus stop on Respublika or Tashenov Streets so you can take bus 2 towards Manas Street. Get off on Manas Street across from the Ajar shopping center (which will be on your left).  There's another Ramstore here.

22)  Repeat step 2 in this Ramstore.

23)  Walk towards the Eurasia shopping center (a few blocks).  To the right of Eurasia is a supermarket called 5-Minute or Bakhus.  I have never seen peanut butter here, but a friend claims she did once, several years ago.

24)  Repeat step 2 in this store.

At this point, you've exhausted all the best options.  You can now go slowly through the city, repeating step 1 in every grocery store you come across.  If you find any peanut butter, please let me know!

Of course, if you do find peanut butter, buy all that you can afford.

If you have a car, this entire process will be slightly less time-consuming.  Beware of rush hour traffic.

And when you do find peanut butter, most likely it will be the generic Shop-Rite version (from Elizabeth, New Jersey, USA) and high in hydrogenated oil.  If you're extremely lucky, you'll find the Calve peanut butter from the Netherlands (and please do share with me if you're that lucky!)

Good hunting!

Bike Shops / Sports Stores

This is somewhat of an update on my previous post about a bike shop in Astana.

About a week ago, we went to the bike shop that's on the other side of the river.  At one point I'll finally remember its name, it's something like Limpopo.  I was with my Kazakh friend, and we asked a worker to help fix my handlebars, which were loose (and easy to fix with the correct tools).  I had my friend ask if they could do check-ups or maintenance on bikes, he said no, they only do that on bikes that they sold.  (Bikes there are expensive.)  He said he thought that the other bike shop--far away from us--did that.

She also asked if they sold mirrors for bikes.  He said no, and he said it was because they are a sports store, and sell things for athletes, and athletes are concerned about weight, and mirrors add weight.

Then we went inside the store and saw that they sold, amongst other things, huge luggage bags, bells, and baby seats and baby trailers.  I couldn't help thinking, Does Lance Armstrong bring along his baby during his races?

A sports store called Sportsmaster opened last spring in the Mega shopping mall.  Sportsmaster is also located across the street from the Artyom shopping center/bazaar.  The one in Mega is where I bought Sophia's bike, and they have a limited selection of biking gear.  My friend bought her helmet light here.  There is one worker who speaks English rather well, he always seems to hear me and come running, happy to help. 

Just an update on sports stores.  It's definitely nice to have one near our home!

A Long Bike Ride

First, a comment on cultural differences.

If a car or bike is heading towards me, I don't think about right-of-way, I just get out of the way.  In my hometown, cars don't even think to look for pedestrians, even if they are crossing on a green light in a crosswalk. (I know that there are parts of the US where this is different!)

Here, if pedestrians here think they have the right of way, they'll ignore you, car or bike.  We'll be biking down a narrow sidewalk and Sophia will ring her bell, and sometimes they'll look at us, but rarely they'll move.  Even if there's obviously nowhere for us to go.  I get so frustrated, but I have to tell myself, it's a cultural difference.  They just assume they have right-of-way, and we better work around them.  Which is a nice thought.  And I will work around them, when I can, but I'd appreciate it if they would move out of my way when I can't!

So, biking here can be frustrating, but it can be so wonderful!  The weather right now is mild, the leaves are just starting to change, and yesterday we went on a 6-hour bike ride--my friend, her daughter, my daughter, and me.  We first biked to Mega (the mall by our house) and waited while my friend went inside to the sports store and had someone help her with her headlight.  She'd just bought a headlight for her bike and it wasn't working.

Then, we biked through the big central park and over the pedestrian bridge, maneuvering through pedestrians.  Luckily, as the weather cools, there are less and less of them.

We stopped and watched people on some of the rides--there are amusement park rides in the park, fascinating and scaring Sophia at the same time.

We stopped again at the park on the other side of the river (the one with play equipment designed like gym equipment--so much fun!)  We let the girls play while we checked out a newly opened Irish pub.  A glass of Guiness (not sure how much) is well over $10.  Overall, the prices were very expensive, so although the place looked very nice and was playing Irish music, I'm not sure if we'll come.  Maybe once, just for drinks.

We biked again to the Zhanur shopping center, on Valikhonov Street, in hopes that the supermarket there would have peanut butter, as they used to 3 years ago.  They didn't, but we did find caramel, which was nice.

We biked down Abai Street, checking out two restaurants as we went--an Italian restaurant, which we weren't in the mood for, and another Irish pub.  This one had a more moderately-priced menu, however the place was empty except for a bartender and two guys who just stared at me when I entered and said nothing, but kept on staring, as I asked the bartender for a menu.

They were smoking, too, so we decided this wasn't the place for us, so we biked to the American Bar and Grill (formerly TGI Friday's) and ate there.  We had the flambe, so the girls could be excited when it was set on fire.

By the time we were done, it was getting dark.  My friend had her helmet headlight one, which blinded us when she looked at us.  We biked home, over the bridge called the Rainbow Bridge due to its multicolored lights.

The weather here (currently) and the flat land is perfect for biking!  Astana just needs some bike lanes and a biking culture...

Buying an Apartment in Astana

No, I did not buy an apartment.  But I'm learning more and more about what it means to buy an apartment here, and I'm slowly beginning to understand crazy landlords just a little bit more.

In the US, when you buy an apartment, frequently it's unfurnished, but the appliances are there (oven, refrigerator).  There's also heat, electricity, walls...

On Sunday, I picked up my friend A. and went into her apartment for the very first time.  She lives with her mother, and they own the place.  It's a small yet tidy one-bedroom (no living room).  I asked her about it and learned that when they'd bought it, it had pretty much been an empty box.  The foundation and the exterior walls were there, that's about it.  No furniture, no appliances, no wiring, no bathtub, no walls.  Wow.

If you put that much work into a place, I bet you'd be a bit peculiar about renting it!

Stuck on the Steppe ... again

I guess it's a given, if you live in a place like Kazakhstan, which is mostly vast, desolate flat grassland, and you ever travel, then at some point or another you'll find yourself stuck on the steppe.  And so it was that for the 2nd time in my nearly 4 years that I found myself, and Sophia, stuck outside Astana, surrounded by tall yellowing grass and underneath a deep blue sky.

This time I was with A., who was my assistant the last two years at the school.  (She's still at the school, but I switched to teaching 3rd grade instead of Intensive English.)

At the end of June, before leaving for the US, I drove my cat to a village located an hour north of Astana, on the road that leads to Borovoe (the mountainous resort town).  A co-worker's in-laws live there, and were willing to watch Balthazar over the summer.  They have several cats--village cats that come and go as they please.  These cats usually roam and hunt during the summer, and stay inside during the winter.  The in-laws were willing to watch another cat for a few months, and willing to keep him indoors.

My co-worker and his wife moved to a school in China, leaving me with directions on how to pick up the cat.  Actually, they forgot to give me the directions, and I forgot to ask, until right before I left the US for Kazakhstan, which was around the same time that they left, with their 1-year old, for China.  So in the hectic hassle of moving to a new country with a tiny kid, it took them over a week to respond to me with directions.  By this time, Sophia and I had been in the country for a week and were dying to get our kitty back!

But then, a wonderful Russian co-worker offered to take my car into the shop, where he got bad news--the brakes are in dire need of repair, as are the suspension and shocks.  So instead of rushing off to get Balthazar, I had to wait...

This past weekend the car was not yet fixed, but it also wasn't in the shop, so I decided just to drive extra-cautiously and go and get my cat.  I took A. along just in case I needed her, and am so grateful I did!

We drove north out of Astana, past the outdoor bazaar, and up a long, dusty road, heading towards the freeway that leads to Borovoe.  I was getting low on gas, so once we exited the city limits (quite a ways from the actual city), we saw a gas station and stopped.

I've only gotten gas twice in Astana, and those two times were in June, and A's never gotten gas, so we pulled up to a pump and asked the attendant what to do, clarifying how to go inside and pay.  (They have attendants here, you don't pump it yourself.)

We went inside, paid for a full tank, and then returned to the car.  I turned it on.  The engine sounded funny and we drove for a few meters, but it just felt funny--like the brakes were still on.

I turned it off and tried again.  Still funny.  After a few tries it just sputtered and died.  I tried again and again.  Dead car.

Oh no!

If I hadn't had A. with me, I very well might have cried.  Luckily, it was mid-afternoon, beautiful sky, sunny day... And I knew that since I have a 20-year old car, problems might occur!  Might as well occur on a pleasant afternoon with a Russian translator.

She asked some other drivers for help, they looked inside and said we needed oil.  We were completely out of oil. But... they had no idea what kind.  So we went inside and looked at the oil and tried to call people to find out what to do.  A. got hold of one guy who said that it wouldn't be the oil, it's probably something else.  But we decided to try the oil, and luckily, as we were trying to figure out how to pour it in the car, a guy called out, "Pomosh?" or "Can I help you?"  Two girls and a kid with a broken-down car.  We sure looked like we needed help!  (Sorry for the stereotypes, but in this case, we fit the stereotype of girls not knowing anything about cars.)

So he helped us.  But no avail.  The car wouldn't start.  One of the attendants came up and tried.  His guess was the gas pump.  He said he'd get off in 20 minutes and then would help.

We were very grateful but then I finally got V. on the phone (my Russian co-worker who helps me with my car).  He said not to trust strangers with my car, it was much safer just to call a tow-truck to bring it back to the school, and tomorrow he would get someone to bring it the mechanic that he trusted.  So... no chance for getting my kitty.

A. called the tow truck--8000 Tenge! (over $50).  Then the attendant got off work, and he and a security guy came to help, and we couldn't figure out how to nicely tell that we didn't want any help.  Then, as A. was describing what had happened, the attendant and the security guy jumped in shock.  "Diesel!!!" they shouted.  We'd pulled up to the diesel pump and had put diesel into the car!!

They seemed shocked and rather angry at the attendant who had given us diesel.  Why on earth had he done that?  Sure, we'd pulled up at the diesel pump, but did our car look like a car that used diesel?  Did we look like girls who knew what the heck we were doing?

So... they pushed our car out of the way and then began to get the diesel out of the car.  Now this is a VERY long procedure, especially if you have a full tank.  They had to open the front hood and keep turning the car on, while it made this awful sound, and the gas leaked out.  After some time our battery died, so they had to go get another... and another!

We were there for several hours, and even though the sun was warm, the wind was fierce and cold, and poor Sophia was only wearing shorts and a t-shirt.  I have no air conditioning in my car, and even when it's slightly cool outside, it gets warm in the car.  And I hadn't expected us to be outside much!

At one point the security guy asked my friend for her phone number.  At another point, they both sat inside the car, discussing it and how nice it was.  A. asked them if it was worth $5000 (the price I'd paid) and they said, definitely, yes.  So, expensive for buying a car in the US, but not in Kazakhstan!

Finally, at around 6 pm (we had left Astana around 2), the car was empty, and they rolled it up to a regular gas pump and put gas in it.

They tested it, and the attendant rode it around really fast while my friend yelled out to him in Russian, "The brakes don't work well!"  At one point he wheeled quickly towards the security guy, who, instead of getting out of the way, leaned over to look under the car as it braked in front of him.  He's lucky he didn't get his head chopped off.

Finally, we paid the men what they asked for (5000 Tenge, about $33), and we were off.  I was desperate to get my cat back, although I knew I was risking it!

We had no further problems on our trip.  When we arrived at the house, it looked deserted, which greatly worried me, but they were home.  Balthazar was curled up on a couch, near the other cats, and he was quite content.  He had grown over the summer and his fur was thicker.  In general he looked healthier.  I thanked them profusely and then we returned home.

We had left at 1:30 pm and returned at 9:30 pm.  The village is only about 60 kilometers north of Astana.  Most of the day had been spent stuck on the steppe.

And now my car is in the shop and it will be some time and quite a bit of money before I see it again.  But I'm okay with that.  I've lived in this city for 3 years without a car, I can live a few more weeks.  As long as I have my cat.

A Russian Wedding

This past Saturday I got to experience my first real Russian wedding. I'd been to two last year, but both were Russian/Kazakh-American.

My assistant for the past two years, Y., was marrying her boyfriend of five years. Five years is a long time to wait for a proposal in Kazkhastan.

I got to witness bits and pieces of the planning, which were very similar to what I know about planning a wedding in the US—lots of tiny details, lots of stress, lots of time, lots of money. I watched her choose wedding invitations, narrowing it down to three that she couldn't decide between. I watched her try to figure out how to make a guest book (an American thing, I think, since she couldn't buy one here and had to make her own). I watched her stress about the candles at the restaurant... The same things an American bride stresses about in the months leading to her wedding.

I don't know how much the whole thing cost, but I do know that her wedding dress cost more than my sister's. (And it was incredibly beautiful.)  But this is a city where a typical salary is about $300 a month, so that makes the wedding suddenly so expensive!

The wedding started at 5:30 pm and at 4:50 I was finishing up my hair when my Kazakh friend came over to watch Sophia. She offered to help with my hair, and as I worried about being late—the restaurant was located over a half hour drive away—she reassured me that being late won't matter. Then I learned that the wedding I had been invited to was most likely the wedding reception. The actual vows, exchanging of rings, signing of papers, is usually done with just a few witnesses.

I made it 45 minutes late, and the bride and groom had yet to arrive. They came shortly after, in a large hummer-like car decorated with ribbons and flowers. Everyone stood outside the restaurant and cheered as they came out.

I learned at last year's wedding between a local and a Korean-American that wedding receptions here often have hosts/hostesses/DJs—I'm not sure what their official title would be. A woman in a blue dress was in charge of this evening's events. Before we entered the restaurant, she had the bride and groom drink champagne (the traditional way, arms intertwined), and then throw their empty champagne glasses on the pavement.

Then they were presented with bread, and most likely told its significance, before we all went inside.

There I found three other co-workers (all locals, since all the foreigners had already left the country) and they showed me our table. Then we presented the bride with flowers and hugged her and shook hands with the groom. Then we returned to our table, where waiters dutifully served us drinks and we could munch on appetizers. Throughout the evening, my glasses never made it half-empty, they were always refilled. And the different courses were brought out so staggered that we didn't get dessert until after midnight.

I'm sorry to say that I did not find the appetizers to be very appealing. Ther were some cold cuts of unkown meat, some salads, including one with fish (but none of the “American”-style salad of fresh lettuce and vegetables). The bread was good, as was the one platter of fresh veggies.

The evening—which lasted well past midnight—consisted of a pattern like this—activity, speeches, dancing, repeat, all the while eating and drinking.

First, everyone was introduced. The host announced a group of people, such as the bride's mother's coworkers, and they all stood up and everyone clapped.

The next activity was a magician. I've never actually seen a magician live, and was rather impressed. I couldn't figure out how he did it! He put a lemon in a guillotine and sliced it cleanly in two. Then he put the best man's head in the same guillotine, rammed the blade down, and the best man's head stayed on (of course). He called out the bride and groom and turned fire into two doves, which they held. It was good show.

Another activity was a special dance. The groom's mother works in a theater, and two dancers work with her. So they came out and performed a dance for everyone.

The bride and groom had prepared a dance, as well. This was interesting, because it was more than your usual “first dance” at American weddings. They had obviously rehearsed, and it looked more like a performance you might see on “Dancing with the Stars.” They acted and danced to many different songs, starting with “I Will Always Love You.” It was very beautiful, and quite a performance. And yes, I'm getting ideas for my own far-off-in-the-future wedding, should that ever occur.

Between activities, as I said, were speeches. I counted—there were about 10 people at each table, and about 8 tables. A group at a time was calleed up to give speeches. I think that techincally, only one or two people from each group needed to give a speech, but in the end, usually everyone in the group gave a speech. Some of the speeches were short--”I wish you happiness!” Some were very long. What on earth could people be saying for so long?

Luckily, my coworkers had already planned something, and I didn't have to speak. Though I do wish they had told me; they had it writen, and they didn't realize that I can read Russian quite well. So I could have participated.

My coworkers originally wanted to leave before 10:30, so they could catch a bus home, but I am so glad that they decided to stay later. By 10:30 the main dish had yet to be served!

The second coursse (which I had at first thought was the main course) consisted of some purple beet salad and something like meatloaf. The main course was a very large pike—one per table—that had been cut into sections, with lemon slices between each section, but still very much looking like a fish. I really wished I hadn't lost my camera so I could have taken a good picture of it!

For another activity, they pulled out two chairs into the center of the room. The best man had to get the maid of honor from one chair to the other, without her ever touching the ground, ten times, in ten different ways. The maid of honor was wearing a very short dress, so this was quite difficult to do without compromising her dignity. I don't think they made it to 10, but I was impressed with how creative they got. At one point, he lay on the ground, aand his friends helped her to walk across him.

(I also learned that here the maid of honor can't be married or divorced.  So my friend had a hard time finding a maid of honor, since most of her friends were already married.)

Another activity was a dance contest, where the two professional dancers picked the winners. First, several people danced, and a few were eliminated. Then the contestants had to dance while sitting. The next round, they had to stay sitting but couldn't movee their legs. Then they could only move their faces.

By this point, the groom's friends were completely drunk, and kept trying to join the dancing contest, no matter how many times they were kicked out.

A laptop, projector, and sceen were brought out, and they played a speech from a family member who could not attend. A short while later, they showed a music video, a “love story.” When my assistant had talked about this, I thought she meant a slideshow of pictures. But it was really was a music video that the two of them had made, to Aerosmith's song, "I Don't Wanna Miss a Thing."

At one point, the lights were turned off and the bride sang a song for us. At another point, she threw her bouquet and the groom threw her garter.  I was informed that the bouquet and garter tosses were new traditions taken from the West.

After each activity and/or speech, music played and people came onto the dance floor to dance. This was fun to watch, as the older people just loved to dance and had so much fun dancing. An elderly gentleman (a former booxer, I learned) picked up his wife and swung her around merrily. People really got into it, kicking their legs to older Russian music, forming circles and dancing around the bride.

Sometime after midnight, before the cake but after the pike, all the lights were turned off and everyone was handed a tea candle. We gathered around the bride and groom in the center, sitting in front of a table with two large candles as well as tea candles forming the shape of a heart. We stood there for quite some time while the hostess talked in a quiet, serious voice. This was the time when the parents gave them away, when the bride became a wife and the groom became a husband. She put on a white scarf and he put on a white cap to symbolize this.

After cake, the hostess announced awards and the bride had to pick which guest got the award. For example, the loudest, the quietest, the most drunk. The prizes were thinigs like sponges and toilet paper.

I would have loved to stay later, but my co-workers had called a taxi for me, and I had only one day left to pack before flying to the US for the summer, so I said my good-byes and left. Although 80 speeches can get to be a bit much, I really enjoyed the wedding. I enjoyed the festivity, the activities, the dancing, and how it was really made into a special event for the bride and groom, as well as  for their guests.

Driving a Car in Astana

The big recent news is that I bought a car. I've spent nearly three years here, and do feel quite comfortable getting around the city, in good and bad weather, without a car. I can use the buses, walk, bike, and take taxis. The buses on my side of town run infrequently, some of them come every 20 – 30 minutes, and there is no set schedule. And there aren't as many buses. Not having a car is doable, but everything takes so much longer.

Two teachers at my school were offered and accepted jobs in Almaty, and they decided to sell their car. At first, I said I wanted it if I had to move far from the school. At the time, it was looking like I would have to, as it was impossible to find an apartment near the school that allowed pets. But then, as soon as I said I wanted it, we found an apartment in my same building that allows pets, and suddenly I had to decide, did I want the car?

Everyone who knows about buying cars in Kazakhstan said it was a good deal. Everyone used to buying cars in the US wanted to know what was I thinking. It's a 1993 Suburu, a basic 4-door car, nothing special. For $5000. My mom researched it and said in the US it'd be $1500. The crazy thing about cars here is that they don't really go down in price as they get older. Which can be good for a foreigner—you buy a car and two years later, when you leave, you can sell it for the same price you bought it (or even more, if you put money into repairing it!)

I decided to take the car, and on the last day of school (23rd June) it was transferred to me. The whole process was amazingly easy. The school owns the car, so I didn't have to buy it. In Kazakhstan, only the owner can drive a car; everyone else needs a power of attorney document, and they need a new one each month. The secretary can print those out, and usually has several to do every month. So on that day, she printed that document for me. I also needed insurance, but I could just keep the insurance that was already on the car; the school would take the money out of my salary. Another secretary translated my driver's license into Russian. The previous owner handed me the keys. I made sure all the documents were in the glove compartment, to be handed over to a police officer should I be pulled over. And voila! I had a car!

(Payment was easy too. The school put $5000 directly into the previous owner's school account, and took $5000 from me, making my school account go negative. I signed a form, agreeing to pay back within a year, which will be easy enough.)

Suddenly, I had keys to a car, and it was time to drive home. In a city where drivers are more aggressive than those in the US, in a city where left turns are rarely allowed, in a city where police officers routinely pull people over. I must admit I was quite nervous! I hadn't driven at all in two years. I had to figure out how to get home, since the roads are so weird—Astana has several super-large roads, like highways, and tons of tiny roads, like alleyways, and few left turns outside of intersections (and really long blocks!) To get home I had to back-track a bit and drive through a mall parking lot.

I was also out of gas, and had to go get gas. Luckily, I'd thought to ask about that. There aren't too many gas stations, but the principal recommended one that's a bit out of the way, but a direct route from my apartment, which she likes because it's rarely crowded. I get gas number 92, and an attendant fills it up, and I pay inside. It worked.

Over the next few days, I got more comfortable with driving in Astana. A big thing is just being aware—the drivers are aggressive, and the police are ready to pull you over if you forget some tiny detail. Also, pedestrians love to walk in the road anywhere they want. Especially by bus stops, so you have to be really careful when you're near a bus stop, people might run out in front of you. There are crosswalks here and there where you have to stop. I've learned to drive more slowly when I near them, and to look for people on the sidewalk near the crosswalk, to try to predict if I'll have to stop for someone.

I have to plan routes ahead of time, trying to avoid going out of my way because I can't turn left. Also I try to avoid bad intersections. I've also learned that rush hour can be bad, so I have to figure out what roads to avoid at what times. Blocks are long, so if you're stuck on Turan Avenue (my street) heading from the Radisson towards my apartment, over a kilometer away, you can be stuck in a traffic jam that whole time with nowhere to turn, unless you want to park in the park or drive into the river.  (Update:  After being driven from the airport in Chicago to my brother's place north of Chicago, I realize that Astana rush hour isn't so bad!)

The city shrinks when you have a car. Suddenly, places that used to take close to one hour to get to are just minutes away. (Except during rush hours!)

The other day we left a cafe with 40 minutes to get my friend's daughter to her ice skating lessons. That distance wouldn't take far when it's not rush hour, but we ended up late. (Part of the time was taken walking from the cafe to the car.) On the way, my friend taught me about driving here. If you want in a lane, you don't wait patiently with your signal on. (In what big city does that work, anyways?) You can just be aggressive and push yourself in, but the best way is to make eye contact! Roll down your window, wave at the driver you want to get in front of, even ask him to let you in. I managed to change lanes on very crowded streets by having my friend or her daughter politely ask other drivers to let us in. And indeed I have noticed since then, other drivers waving at me to ask me to let me in front of them.

So, I'm getting the hang of it. And I haven't been pulled over yet. I've been told that technically they can't give you a ticket if you don't understand, but that they'll try their best to either give you a ticket or get a bribe from you.

I also have an indoor parking spot. The garage is not heated, so I'll still need to buy something for the car, one of those devices that automatically turns on the car when it gets below -20º Celsius. I'll also need a remote device, for turning it on from my apartment, so that it can be warmed up by the time I get to it. Which makes me a bit nervous, turning on your car when you can't even see it, but in this weather, that's pretty much necessary.

It's amazing how fast it can change your life. We were at the grocery store the other day, and I bought 8 liters of juice, stocking up so that when we return from summer vacation, we'll have plenty. I could never carry that much home, but I could drive it home. It'll definitely make a difference in shopping.

Sophia's thrilled too, of course. She's quite happy to no longer be forced to walk and take the bus everywhere.

My biggest concern is that we'll grow to rely on it too much, and won't take the longer, healthier, more environmentally friendly route. We'll see!

Update:  Driving a car in winter...

Biking

As soon as the warm weather hit, out came the bicycles.  I don't mean that Kazakhs took to biking the way the Dutch do; I mean, my co-workers and the students at my school took to biking.  It seemed like everyone at the school, the principal included, had a bike, and Sophia and I were still walking.  We had yet to fix her bike.

On the way home from school one day, we stopped by the Mega mall that's on the way.  A new sports store, Sportsmaster, had just opened, and we went inside.  There we ran into two other teachers, one who was buying a bicycle, and one who speaks Russian and was helping.  So we had the Russian-speaker help me too, and I bought Sophia a bike.  It was the cheapest one there, 20,000 Tenge (about $133), and small even though they claimed it was a grown-up bike.  But this in-between size was perfect for Sophia.  It doesn't have hand brakes or gears, but again, this isn't a problem for a 9-year old.

We bought it and are thus far quite happy with the purchase.  We've biked to school just about every day since.  I donated her old bike to science--eg, I let the upper-grades science teachers use it for demonstrations and parts.  (I didn't quite feel comfortable selling something that may or may not be fixable.)

My bike, which I bought at the bazaar earlier this year, has so far proved to be okay. It hasn't broken yet.  The teacher who bought her bike at Sportsmaster the same time as Sophia, her bike already broke.  Some part that apparently isn't supposed to break on new bikes.  The store fixed it--but only once she went somewhere else and bought the piece they needed.  Not a good sign of quality of materials or service for this new store!!  (Which, by the way, is a chain, I've been to it before, near Artyom, and there are many of these stories in Russia.)

We have biked to church a few times, and I was quite disappointed to find out how long that takes.  It takes up to one hour by bus, because the buses that go to church run so infrequently, and you have to walk to the bus stop and then wait.  It takes about 5 minutes by car.  It takes 40 minutes by bike.  Such a difference!  This city is not at all bike-friendly.  The roads are fierce and dangerous, so we do not bike on the roads.  We bike on sidewalks, maneuvering around people, and going up and down so many steep curbs.  At one point we have to go down the equivalent of two flights of steps.

Luckily, about half of the ride to church is filled with these kinds of obstacles; the other half is idyllic. We bike across the "rainbow" bridge over the river, with the sun shining upon us.  We bike through lovely parks.  Part of the ride is quite pleasant.

Wherever we go, we lock our bikes.  (Except for school, since the school is gated and the bikes are safe.)  I take care to lock both the back and front tires, to lock the tires to the frames.  I even bought a U-lock though I haven't used it yet.  Everywhere we go, I notice that I lock our bikes much more securely than anybody else!  This city is not quite a cycling city, and so bike theft doesn't seem to be very strong here.

I look forward to the day this city is more bike-friendly.  With a mostly flat terrain and good weather for 50% of the year, as well as a not-wealthy population needing inexpensive transportation, this city is a perfect place to become a bike haven.  Though maybe that's just my wishful thinking.

Taxis

Taxis in Central Asia are different from taxis in the US.  There are your normal, official taxis, cars that say "taxi" on them and have dispatchers and all that.  There are your not-so-normal-yet-still-official taxis, junky old cars that don't say "taxi" yet are connected to some sort of service & dispatcher.  These are the ones that I use when I have someone call me a taxi, usually to get to the airport or vet.

Then there's every other car out there on the road, each one a potential "taxi".  All you have to do is put out your hand and wait.  Sooner or later (usually sooner) someone will pull over, you can tell them where you want to go and negotiate a price, or you can just hop in.  If you sound foreign and clueless, they'll probably ask for 1000 Tenge (about $6).  Locals get taxis for 500 Tenge or less.  I've learned to just ask for 500 Tenge up front, they usually say yes, and if they don't, I don't get in.

Locals have no problem with this system; foreigners usually adjust to it quite quickly.  I, on the other hand, have been here almost 3 years and am still wary of it.  I've gotten over my American paranoia (is the driver really a serial killer?!) but I have other worries.  I know nothing about the guy who picked me up (and it's always a guy).  I don't know how well he drives, I don't know if he's been drinking.  Sure, I've talked with him to bargain the price, and I can tell that he's not completely wasted, but still...  Drivers here are aggressive, getting into a car with a stranger is a bit scary!

I've gotten used to it.  It takes close to an hour to get to church via the bus; in the winter, we took a taxi every Sunday.  It takes under 10 minutes by taxi, and that includes leaving my house, walking to the main street, and hailing a "cab".  Most often, the very first car I see stops for me, it's that common and convenient.

Sophia prefers taxis to walking, of course; she doesn't see the potential danger in riding with a complete stranger who most likely does not have working seatbelts.  My mom preferred the buses.  Aggressive as the bus drivers can be, they're calmer than the taxi drivers.

I'm able to take a taxi, I'm capable of telling the driver where to go, giving directions, bargaining a price.  But I prefer other methods of transportation.

Karagana - Temirtau

Temirtau means "Iron mountain" in Kazakh, and it is here where the steel and coal plants are.  We visited this place two years ago with the church, and we stopped in a convent run by Mother Theresa nuns.  What I had known about this place was the plants polluted it and depression and alcoholism run deep.

Sunday I saw a different side to Temirtau.

Temirtau is a town with a population of about 180,000, and my friend R. and her daughter A. used to live here.  It is about a half hour drive from Karaganda, on the way back to Astana.

We stopped there on our way home from Karaganda, and we passed the smog-producing factory where R. used to work as a translator.  She talked about how to make metal from rocks (melting them to get out the iron) as well as safety precautions (workers falling into +900 Celsius furnaces and melting) and how she once even got to go inside a mine (as a translator).  The air near the factory smelled foul.

But the town itself was lovely (and had fresher air).  Apartment buildings were right in the center; buses ran regularly and there was even a trolley.  We stopped near the ice skating rink where A. used to go, in front of a new and fancy museum that was unfortunately closed that day.  The kids played in front of the museum, by a statute of two giant metallurgists, where A. used to play when she was little.

Then we walked to the nearby man-made lake (made by Japanese prisoners).  The sun shone brightly on us and small hills graced the other side of the lake.  R. had been on boat rides on this lake, and so we went to the small boat dock where she asked about boat rides.  The men seemed to think this was an odd request--Astana has boats, too, they said.  But they also said that the boats were still under repair since the winter, and she should come back in May or June, and they gave her a number to call.

We returned to the car and drove home, making plans to one day spend a summer in Temirtau.

Karaganda - Driving Tour and Johnny Walker's

After the girls had played in the hotel for a while, R.'s sister's husband joined us and offered to drive us around Karaganda.  We happily agreed.  We headed for some outdoor park with interesting rocks, only to find out that it no longer existed, as a new and beautiful mosque had been built where it had been.

Nearby I saw the Catholic Cathedral that we had visited two years ago as it was being constructed.  It's quite beautiful, and would fit in nicely in a town in Europe.  However, it was still not complete, and so we did not go inside.

A park dedicated to the Afghan War was nearby, and so we stopped here.  There was a large fountain with some children running around in it.  Sophia and A. had started to whine again, but the water stopped this.  We let them take off their shoes and socks, roll up their pants, and splash in the water. They loved this.

Then we returned to the hotel and said good-bye to A.'s aunt and uncle.  We decided to walk down the main street to the Johnny Walker pub, which the Lonely Planet recommended and R. had been to numerous times.

The food was a bit expensive, but I ordered a pepper steak and it was absolutely delicious.  I ordered a dark beer on draft (they make their own beer) and it was much better than most the beer I've had here.  Even the side of bread we got was delicious, with a wide selection of fresh bread.  Sophia's plain spaghetti with a side of Parmesan cheese was quite cheap.

We were too full to contemplate dessert and so we walked back home.  It was getting close to midnight, but we'd had a great time--a very full and eventful day!

Karaganda! Ice Skating & Museums

I had not been to Karaganda in two years.  My first trip was to see churches, seminaries, and convents.   The second time (see part 1 and part 2)  was just a weekend trip for fun.   So I was excited when my Kazakh friend R. proposed a quick weekend trip there.  Her daughter, A, Sophia's best friend, was to be in an ice skating competition there.

We drove down after school on Friday evening.  It's a 220 kilometer trip, and most of the road is in decent condition; however, it's a narrow, two-lane highway, so you still have to be cautious.

We arrived after dark and checked into our hotel, the same one my brother I had stayed in two years ago.  It's 8000 Tenge for a small 2-room "suite", that's about $50.  It's neither dirty nor clean--the rooms are cleaned daily, but they still have the appearance of needing a major scrub-down.  But quite satisfactory for 2 kids and 2 adults who just need a place to sleep.  The girls shared the pull-out couch and R. and I got separate beds in our tiny room.

The hotel is right in the middle of downtown.  One of the things I love about Karaganda is its downtown.  It's a decent-sized town (its population is a little under 500,000) and most of it seems to be concentrated on one rather long strip of road.  So everything is easily walkable.  You have dozens of shopping centers and restaurants on this road, plus a modern mall, plus a circus, and several museums either on this road or just off it, plus a really nice Central Park a block off this road.  The sidewalks are extremely wide and not too crowded.  The road is rather wide for a main street, but much narrower than most the roads in Astana, which are like insane freeways.

The ice skating competition was Saturday morning, and the ice skating rink was across the street from the hotel.  We ate breakfast in the hotel's restaurant (blinies, which are like crepes, and fried eggs).  Then we watched the competition.  A.'s grandparents and uncle came, since they all live in or near Karaganda.

A. won first place in her division!  She's been winning first place quite a lot lately, it's quite exciting.

After that we wandered to look for this Eco-Museum that the Lonely Planet thought was awesome.  We wandered down the main street, asking people, some of whom thought we were crazy, some of whom had actually heard of it before.  We finally found it, unlabeled.  The door was locked and there was no sign.  Peering in through the window, I did see an arrow with the words, "Eco-Museum" on it, so I do know we found the place.  Maybe it's not open on weekends.

The sun was hot over our heads and we were sweating and the girls were whining.  So we got ice cream from the place that sells the best soft-serve ice cream in the world, and then we took a bus to an art museum.

We came in talking, and then R. asked the cashier how much.  As they were talking, I read the sign and couldn't help but notice that foreigners cost more.  R. didn't see the sign and thought the women was crazy when she said I cost more.  She's not foreign, she lives works here, R. tried to tell her.  Well, she doesn't speak Russian, the lady said.  To which R. replied, Do you speak Kazakh?

Finally she convinced the lady to let me in at local price.

The girls enjoyed the museum.  There was some beadwork and glasswork, as well as a few paintings and sculptures.

Then we walked back to the City Mall, which is next to our hotel, and went inside to eat fast food.  Sophia said the chicken nuggets rivaled McDonald's, and I wondered why this place (Mac & Dac, I think) isn't in Astana.

R.'s sister joined us and then we took a taxi to another museum.

This museum was AWESOME and Astana doesn't have a museum like this one.  The first room was like a natural exhibit of the Karaganda region.  It had a decent-sized collection of (dead) bugs, which the girls liked, plus various rocks from the region.  Karaganda is known for its mining.  There were also some fossils, including a mammoth bone.

Next, there was like a life-sized diorama of animals unique to the region, including a saiga, a kind of antelope.

The next exhibit was about the peoples who lived in the Karaganda region in pre-historic times, as well as artifacts from their time.  It was interesting looking at the different tools--including a razor for shaving!

The rest of the rooms bored the girls but still fascinated me.  It led us through the history of the region, showing yurts and traditional clothing, typewriters from the Soviet period, a room devoted to concentration camps, another to the space program.  Every item had a label in English as well as Russian and Kazakh, although the longer explanations were all in English.

From the end of ice skating to the end of this museum, the girls spent most of this time whining.  It was quite annoying, and finally I conceded--if we give you an hour at the hotel, will you quit your whining?  We had driven so far and all they wanted to do was hang out at the hotel!

So we returned to the hotel, where they played hide and seek while we rested.

A French Cafe

Almost exactly a year ago, I went to a cute French cafe located behind the Radisson Hotel. This past Wednesday, I took my mom and Sophia on a walk through the snow-filled Central Park, across the pedestrian bridge, and to this cafe.

Inside, my mom first followed a waiter into the section on the right, a dark room with tall plush chairs and men smoking a hookah. We quickly turned and went into the cheery, sun-filled cafe-like side.

We ordered food and drinks, after which we had dessert. My ginger-and-honey coffee was quite delicious.

Mom ordered French onion soup, of which there was a picture. What came out was yellow, not brown--and French onion soup should be brown (and the picture showed brown soup). Mom ate it but said it was more like "cream of onion" soup than French onion and she didn't finish it.

Sophia loved her grilled cheese sandwich (something really simple) and my "Asian-style" beef and vegetables was rather good.

Then we ordered dessert. I ordered tiramisu, Mom ordered the banana tort, Sophia ordered the waffle.

My tiramasu cost 1200 Tenge -- about $8 -- and was only okay, definitely not worth $8! Mom's tort was good but did not look like the picture. Sophia's waffle took close to an hour to come out, and the wait staff did not even try to be helpful. I asked several times about it, only to be told, "Ok, ok" or "ten more minutes". And she didn't even like it! (It was good, but had a vanilla-like flavor to it, which she didn't like. And I was way too full to finish it for her.)

The bill was about 1200 Tenge, too much to pay for only a so-so dining experience. And last year the experience had been so pleasant!

I might go there again for coffee, though...

Borovoe with my Mom - Day 2

After breakfast, we borrowed cross country skis and ski boots from the hotel. (When we paid that evening, we learned that the rental cost 1500 Tenge -- $10 -- per person.)

We put on the boots and went outside with the skis. We spent 30 minutes trying to figure out how to put them on. Mom & I got our on, but we still couldn't get Sophia's on hers. Finally, I saw some staff on a smoke break, and called out to them. They had her skis on in 2 seconds. There was a button that we had missed, that made them snap into the boot.

Now, the hill wasn't that steep, but it was still a hill, and it was covered with fresh snow. It wasn't long before Sophia fell and we spent perhaps another 30 minutes trying to get her back up, during which time her legs and ankles twisted and pretty soon she definitely wasn't in a good mood. She still wanted to try skiing at the bottom of the hill, by the lake, but before we got there, she fell again and gave up. We took off her skis and let her watch while we tried.

My hunch is that people who really want to ski don't ski at this hotel; they rent a taxi and go to Borovoe and ski somewhere there. The hotel didn't really have trails or paths for skiing; we were going down what is the boat ramp in the summer, and then we went back and forth by the lake. The thick snow made it hard. Plus, I've never cross-country skied before. And I've only down-hilled skied a few times before, over 15 years ago, and I was awful then.

Still, it was fun, and I definitely got a workout. I was sweating when I finished.

We went inside and had lunch--we were getting tired of the restaurant's food by now! Plus each meal cost us about 5000 Tenge -- about $33 -- except breakfast, which was free.

We went to the 3rd floor and played pool. The pool table there was bigger and higher than one in the US. The openings were narrower, and so it was next-to-impossible to get a ball in. It was Sophia's first time playing, and she did as well as can be expected, perhaps even better--she didn't pout or whine.

As we left, the staff woman asked us our room number--we later learned that playing pool cost us 2000 Tenge (about $13).

Then we went back outside with the sleds. We discovered that if we started at the very top of the hill, we could go quite far, almost all the way to the lake, and we spent the next several hours sledding and otherwise playing in the snow. We went onto the frozen lake and I buried Sophia in the snow. It was a clearer day than yesterday--still cloudy, but we could see across the lake. The sun came out as we started heading indoors, and the snow sparkled.

When we checked out, we saw the fees for ski rental and playing pool, but they didn't charge us for staying until 7 pm. (On the phone they had told my assistant that it would be an extra 8000 Tenge to stay that late.)

The taxi driver took us the long way around the lake. He also was a cautious driver, which was nice, but that meant that our trip to the train station took more than twice as long as our trip from the train station. We got plenty of nice views of the lake, though! (And more than once worried that he was taking us to some deserted place to abandon us or demand extra money...)

At the train station, we ran into some co-workers and their children. We were in the same car in the electric train on the way back. The electric train is much cleaner and nicer than the other train, with seats instead of bunks. The toilet, though, is a squatter.

We got to Astana around 11 pm, our home around 11:30. What an adventure! Someday, though, I'm really going to cross-country ski!

Borovoe with my Mom - Day 1

Earlier this year, my friend had picked up a brochure for the Park Hotel Kokshetau, near Borovoe. Borovoe is the resort area about 300 km north of Astana. This is a place with forested hills that resemble mountains and several lakes. Last year we went there in the summer for a few days.

(You can see my entries for Days 1, 2, 3, 4, and 5 in Borovoe this past summer.)

The brochure and web site made the hotel look so wonderful that I booked a room there for one night and got train tickets to get there on Monday afternoon and leave Tuesday evening. My mom arrived Sunday at midnight, so she had one day of mild rest before we were off.

The train ride there was an interesting experience. We traveled for just one small stretch of a much longer train ride, and our seats were beds (and those were the cheap seats!) The entire car was open--no rooms, just a bunch of bunk beds. They even gave us clean sheets! I liked it because it gave us extra room, although it was somewhat dirty.

The weather was cloudy and windy, and for most of the ride, all we could see out the window was white--as if the world had vanished away.

The ride was 3 hours long, and as we got off the train, I heard someone say my name in a thick accent. Someone from the hotel was waiting for us!

He took our bags and led us to the hotel van. He instructed us to put on our seat belts, but said Sophia didn't need to. Either this was because she was in a backwards-facing seat, or because her seat didn't have a seat belt, or because she's a child, I don't know! But he definitely made sure Mom and I wore seat belts (which is quite unusual here, no one really cares about seat belts unless you're in the front).

Once we got going, we wished we'd insisted that Sophia have a seat belt, too. He drove quite quickly up a winding and snow-covered road.

The hotel is located on the Suchye Lake, which is closer to the town of Shchuchinsk than to Borovoe, but still in the general area, still a beautiful, woodsy, mountainy area.

(And can you pronounce Shchuchinsk? I certainly can't!)

The guy at reception obviously spoke no English and thus didn't want to even try to communicate with us; he quickly led us to our room and left us there--no signing in. So far I had given no information other than my name and my assistant's phone number, no proof that I really was going to pay at the end.

Our junior suite cost 31,000 Tenge a night (a little over $200) and while it was a nice room, and a nice hotel, it wasn't quite worth that much money. We were paying the on-season price, yet the hotel was almost completely empty, so we should have gotten the off-seaon price. Monday and Tuesday this week were still normal working weeks for most Kazakhs. The spring holiday, Nauryz, was on Thursday, and the official holiday was Wednesday through Friday.

Our suite was quite large, two rooms that could be separated by a curtain, a large bed, and a nice couch that pulled out into a bed.

After settling in, we went to the restaurant to eat. The waiter made the mistake of addressing us in English, thus making us assume that he knew more English than he did. He struggled to keep up with us and to understand us.

Next, we went outside to look around. There were sleds by the entrance-way, and we were told we could take these. How nice!

The hotel's area is behind the hotel. There's a gently-sloping hill, a children's play area, a tennis court, an area for an outdoor cafe, and a beach. Of course, in the winter, this is all snow-covered. It's a mini winter-wonderland, and the iced-over lake was amazing.

The lake was large and white and covered with thick, powdery snow. The wind was fierce, and as it ripped across the lake, it picked up the snow--a sandstorm made of snow. We couldn't see the other side of the lake, due to all the wind-swept snow. There was so much white that I doubt my mom's camera took any good pictures, although it was breath-taking to behold.

After a while, we went back inside and went swimming. The water was cold, so I waited while Mom and Sophia swam and then used the jacuzzi. We did not make use of the sauna or the massage.

There was one normal sauna room (a wooden room, with benches) and one room with a wooden contraption that a person gets inside, so that only his/her head shows. The best example I can give of it is this picture.

Next we had dinner, and again we were the only people in the restaurant, and again we had the same waiter.

After dinner, we played ping-pong in the gym next to the pool. We saw proof that we weren't the only people there when a Russian family passed us on their way to the pool. Then the power went out, and luckily my mom had her kindle's light in her purse (quite a nice-sized flashlight). I went to the pool to offer the light to the Russians in the jacuzzi, but they said they didn't need one. So they planned on staying in the pool in the dark!

On our way to our room, the lights went back on. We also ran into our waiter, who had come upstairs to bring us a candle.

Day 1 was nice and pleasant, and we made plans to go skiing on Tuesday.

(Photos: Our car on the train and the snow-covered lake.)

Nauryz/Nauriz 2012

Nauryz (also spelled Nauriz) is the Kazakh word for March, and it's also the name of the big spring holiday here that celebrates the first day of spring, despite the fact that we're still a winter wonderland at this time of year.

This year, Nauryz will be celebrated Thursday, 22 March.

I'm typing this post quickly to update anyone in Astana on what I know is going on for Nauryz this year. I know that I know very little, there probably is a lot more going on than what I will post here.

Each year I go to the celebrations by Beyterek Tower. (See my entries from 2010--part 1 and part 2--and 2011.) It's not super-fancy, but there are yurts there, people in local costumes, and some singing and dancing. Last year there was arm wrestling and real wrestling; two years ago there was a camel and some Kazakh swings (large swings that fit about 6 people, standing).

I read on-line that "Lovers' Park"--the park across from Khan Shatyr--will have some stuff (singing, dancing, etc) for Nauryz.

Also, all the malls usually have something--dancing, singing, etc--and are usually super-crowded.

Today (Wednesday) and tomorrow Mega Mall has an exhibition where you can buy handmade things. We're going to go later today.

Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, Congress Hall is having an exhibition, from what I can tell, this also will include handmade items and local items and items for sale. Also, across from Congress Hall I saw them setting up yurts and stages for something to happen tomorrow.

The Opera House will have a free Kazakh opera on Thursday, at 3:00 pm. Friends who went last year said that they didn't have to buy tickets in advance.

That's all that I know about. Feel free to add a comment if you know about something else!

*UPDATE: There was nothing at Beiterek Tower this year, surprising myself and several others. The park across from Khan Shatyr had plenty (yurts, music, dancing, wrestling, swings, horse & pony rides) and I was told that across from Congress Hall there was stuff.

Mass in French!

My first month here I discovered the English-language Mass, which is every Sunday at 6 pm at the Catholic Church on Tashenov Street. (There's only one Catholic church in town.) Sometimes we go to the Russian-language Mass at 11 am, which is about twice as long as the English-language one.

A few days ago I learned that there's a French-language Mass at the same church! It occurs only once a month, and is at 7:15 pm, so not long after the English one ends. How had I not noticed before? Once every month, there have been French-speakers entering the church as I'm leaving.

My mom is visiting Astana for our spring break; she arrived Saturday at midnight. Sunday we took her to Mega and Duman to see the aquarium. Then we took her to Eagilik, the English-language library with an American-style coffee shop, and from there to French Mass. She doesn't speak French, but luckily she's a good sport and understood how much I wanted to go. I used to speak French almost fluently, but have lost most of it due to want of practice, so I like to get in some French when I can. When I lived in Paris for a year, I attended Mass every Sunday and many weekdays, and so French Mass is something I can understand fairly well.

The church was practically empty for the Mass--about 4 famillies; I was told that there's usually more people, but because of the holiday, many were gone. I'd seen the priest before, but he doesn't speak English, and I had never learned that he is from Switzerland. He spoke with a clear accent, and I could understand much of what he said.

After Mass, there was a little reception--some people had brought food--and I met the other people attending, including the ambassador of France!

Luckily, everyone spoke English, and so Mom and I got to socialize and enjoy some French food and wine. Mom had brought her ipod touch, and Sophia played that with some of the other children. I learned that Miras school opened a French program this year, which explains why we have no French-speakers at our school this year! Last year, French seemed to be the 3rd language at our school--in the corridors and on the playground, you most frequently heard English, then Russian, then French. This year there are no French-speakers!

It was a nice evening, and hopefully I'll be able to attend French-mass again. (And bore poor Sophia, of course!)