#25- School Supplies-
When I was a student, I was constantly weighed down by books and school supplies. All through Middle School and High School, and into college, I carried no less than 20 pounds of "necessary" materials for class. I had binders. I had textbooks. I had pencils. A calculator. A planner. And so on and so forth, not even counting all of the extra supplies I had waiting at home, should I run out of paper in my 250 page spiral notebook I carried for each and every subject. If the apocalypse actually happened, and only affected Office Max, I was still a-OK.
And I wasn't the only one! We all carried an obscene amount of school supplies to and from school, which at one point, actually warranted a discussion at the School Board meeting regarding our aching backs and potential scoliosis. God bless America.
In Kazakhstan, they just don't do this. Students go to school with one tiny little 50-page notebook and a pen. That's it. Signed, sealed, delivered. No backpack. No pencil case. No ruler or calculator. Just a skinny notebook and a pen. And they do all of their work in one notebook! They leave their books at school (except in a minority of instances) because the school doesn't have enough copies for every student to take one home. Such is life, and if I was a TEFL Volunteer, I would have a lot more inside knowledge about how teachers check students' work when every subject is inside the same little notebook. Do they do homework? Do they leave their little notebook at school and the teachers just divvy them up and then swap? I really don't know. I'll consult Tess and get back to you on this one, just know that school supplies is handled completely differently here in Kazakhstan, and when I bring more than 3 pens to work, my co-workers always ask why. And I always answer "Because I want to write different things with different colors". It's unheard of.
#24- Brand Names-
You've heard of Banana Republic, you've heard of Gap, and you've heard of Old Navy (coincidentally, owned by the same company). You've heard of Dolce and Gabana, Gucci, Prada, and Armani. You might even pay the exorbitant prices for these brand names (I'm not judging-- I prefer to sweat in UnderArmour instead of Hanes) and sport them at brunch or a night out on the town. For all you fashionistas out there, with your infinite wisdom about what's "in" this season, I bet you've never heard of GucciPradaArmaniDior jeans.
This is because you've never been to Kazakhstan, where the GucciPradaArmaniDior jeans are often accompanied by a D&GPradaDior purse or sunglasses. You might love your brand names, but Kazakhstan loves them like a fat kid loves cake. Kazakhstan loves them so much that Kazakhstan sells clothing with more than one brand on it at a time. And for 1% of the price! How's that for a bargain? Personally, I only own one pair of jeans that fit this category. They're black. Skinny. Stretchy. They come with sequins and they have gold accessories hanging off the belt loops. You might be thinking "Wow, Hilary, what a break in your usual American garb you wore in the States". And you're right. But I'm thinking "Gucci, Prada, and Armani all in one? Done. And Done. Kazakh-ify me, dear Karaganda Bazaar. I've seen the error in my ways".
#23- Running for the Bus-
I laughed at this this morning on my way to work, and as a result, it edged out another cultural tidbit and made the list today. As I've already noted, most people in Karaganda take the bus, and taking the bus in Kazakhstan is not just for po' folk-- it's viewed as the most sensible option given the cost of vehicles in relation to the average annual wage. The buses are always full of people, and even more people are always waiting around for the bus they need. Sounds like America? Sure, why not.
But in America, the bus will not wait for you, and it certainly won't stop if you hail it on the side of the road with your best "I'm freezing my buns off, pity me pity me" face. In Kazakhstan, you can see people bolting from 50-100 meters away, waving their arms like the roof is on fire, trying to catch the driver's attention before the doors close and the bus pulls away. And they almost always succeed! Drivers here check their mirrors for any potential passengers scurrying forth from an apartment building, crosswalk, or corner store. If they see you. They wait.
Anyway, this is funny because the most sophisticated ladies, in their mink fur and black stilettos, will get up and go (well, as much as one can have gotten up and went while wearing hooker boots) in order to catch their bus. I've seen it happen! On ice and snow! And after darting toward the bus in front of all onlookers, they stop at the stairs, adjust their handbag, dust off their shoulders and put some swagger into boarding. Hey, if you're feeling like a pimp...
A couple times I've seen this backfire. I said that the "runners", as I'll refer to them from now on, almost always succeed. By no means is it a sure thing. As much as I want to give a fist pump and a hearty "hoozah" to those that make it, I also want to turn around and wince for those that don't. I mean come on, how embarrassing, right? It's like being that person who thinks someone is waving to them from the other side of the room, waves back, and then realizes that they weren't the intended target-- it was the guy behind them. When I see someone who didn't quiiiiiiite get there, I try to give my "better luck next time" eyes, but to date, none of the runners have picked up on it. They probably think I'm crazy.
#22- Outages-
The water and electricity are known to be unreliable, here in the "developing world". Water outages and blackouts are all too common, even in Karaganda, even in my building. I've woken up on a number of weekends, rallied myself to accomplish everything on my to-do list, only to be thwarted by an unexpected power outage that sends me hurtling back into the stone age. No computer. No TV. No refrigerator. No stove. No explanation, and certainly nobody to call and bitch to in order to get it to be turned back on. Whine whine (I should shut it, I'm supposed to be roughing it in Peace Corps chuckle chuckle), pout.
The same holds true for water- which can go off for days at a time because one of the main water lines burst or froze itself shut. Such is life here in Kazakhstan, and everyone but me is not only OK with it, but hardly thinks it out of the ordinary. I mean, these are people who say "it's OK that they turn the hot water off for 3 months in the summer, because we get it for the other 9 months the rest of the year".
Wait. What?
I usually spend my electricity-less days staring at my world map, reading books I otherwise would have had no interest in, and watching the neighborhood kids fight each other, peering from my balcony like a total creeper. Good times, good times.
#21- Public Music-
Finding personal space in Kazakhstan is about as arduous a task as finding a coastline (read: impossible- there is no coast in Kazakhstan! It's the biggest landlocked country on the planet). It's something I've adjusted to, which was a long and difficult path coming out of a country where you're almost always guaranteed an invisible "space bubble" at least the distance from your shoulder to your fingertips. Having no personal space is normal to me now, which some of you will soon discover as I try to entertain conversations with you while standing uncomfortably close.
However, the thing I have yet to adjust to is the public music. I am often subjected to other people's music interests in confined spaces where I have no other option but to sit restlessly and take it like a man. In Kazakhstan, it is totally acceptable to blast music from your cell phone on the bus, on the train, in the office, in the hallway, on the street, and anywhere else that the urge strikes you to listen to your favorite jams. Sometimes, more than one person decides the time is right, and the result is a dueling cacophony of Russian and B-list American pop music.
Try being on an 18-hour train ride where everyone and their mom can play music at will and there is nothing you can do to stop it. I'm telling you straight up, hold the ice, I would rather cut my left arm off with nothing but cotton balls and floss than spend another minute listening to The PussyCat Dolls on 18-hour repeat. Mr. Got-Stuck-in-A-Mountain-Almost-Died-But-Cut-His-Arm-Off-In-The-End had it good. He had silence.
Public displays of music also occur en masse because supermarkets install outside speakers and "treat" the neighborhood to the nightly playlist of leftover 90's music. No joke, every night during the summer, I had the supermarket on one side of my house playing music from 5pm-11pm, and I had the restaurant on the other side of my house playing music from 5pm-11pm. The only music-free "safe room" in my house was the toilet room. No windows. No vents. Just silence. I've never loved a toilet so much in my life.
OK, that's a lie, but I won't go into the details here.
When I was a student, I was constantly weighed down by books and school supplies. All through Middle School and High School, and into college, I carried no less than 20 pounds of "necessary" materials for class. I had binders. I had textbooks. I had pencils. A calculator. A planner. And so on and so forth, not even counting all of the extra supplies I had waiting at home, should I run out of paper in my 250 page spiral notebook I carried for each and every subject. If the apocalypse actually happened, and only affected Office Max, I was still a-OK.
And I wasn't the only one! We all carried an obscene amount of school supplies to and from school, which at one point, actually warranted a discussion at the School Board meeting regarding our aching backs and potential scoliosis. God bless America.
In Kazakhstan, they just don't do this. Students go to school with one tiny little 50-page notebook and a pen. That's it. Signed, sealed, delivered. No backpack. No pencil case. No ruler or calculator. Just a skinny notebook and a pen. And they do all of their work in one notebook! They leave their books at school (except in a minority of instances) because the school doesn't have enough copies for every student to take one home. Such is life, and if I was a TEFL Volunteer, I would have a lot more inside knowledge about how teachers check students' work when every subject is inside the same little notebook. Do they do homework? Do they leave their little notebook at school and the teachers just divvy them up and then swap? I really don't know. I'll consult Tess and get back to you on this one, just know that school supplies is handled completely differently here in Kazakhstan, and when I bring more than 3 pens to work, my co-workers always ask why. And I always answer "Because I want to write different things with different colors". It's unheard of.
#24- Brand Names-
You've heard of Banana Republic, you've heard of Gap, and you've heard of Old Navy (coincidentally, owned by the same company). You've heard of Dolce and Gabana, Gucci, Prada, and Armani. You might even pay the exorbitant prices for these brand names (I'm not judging-- I prefer to sweat in UnderArmour instead of Hanes) and sport them at brunch or a night out on the town. For all you fashionistas out there, with your infinite wisdom about what's "in" this season, I bet you've never heard of GucciPradaArmaniDior jeans.
This is because you've never been to Kazakhstan, where the GucciPradaArmaniDior jeans are often accompanied by a D&GPradaDior purse or sunglasses. You might love your brand names, but Kazakhstan loves them like a fat kid loves cake. Kazakhstan loves them so much that Kazakhstan sells clothing with more than one brand on it at a time. And for 1% of the price! How's that for a bargain? Personally, I only own one pair of jeans that fit this category. They're black. Skinny. Stretchy. They come with sequins and they have gold accessories hanging off the belt loops. You might be thinking "Wow, Hilary, what a break in your usual American garb you wore in the States". And you're right. But I'm thinking "Gucci, Prada, and Armani all in one? Done. And Done. Kazakh-ify me, dear Karaganda Bazaar. I've seen the error in my ways".
#23- Running for the Bus-
I laughed at this this morning on my way to work, and as a result, it edged out another cultural tidbit and made the list today. As I've already noted, most people in Karaganda take the bus, and taking the bus in Kazakhstan is not just for po' folk-- it's viewed as the most sensible option given the cost of vehicles in relation to the average annual wage. The buses are always full of people, and even more people are always waiting around for the bus they need. Sounds like America? Sure, why not.
But in America, the bus will not wait for you, and it certainly won't stop if you hail it on the side of the road with your best "I'm freezing my buns off, pity me pity me" face. In Kazakhstan, you can see people bolting from 50-100 meters away, waving their arms like the roof is on fire, trying to catch the driver's attention before the doors close and the bus pulls away. And they almost always succeed! Drivers here check their mirrors for any potential passengers scurrying forth from an apartment building, crosswalk, or corner store. If they see you. They wait.
Anyway, this is funny because the most sophisticated ladies, in their mink fur and black stilettos, will get up and go (well, as much as one can have gotten up and went while wearing hooker boots) in order to catch their bus. I've seen it happen! On ice and snow! And after darting toward the bus in front of all onlookers, they stop at the stairs, adjust their handbag, dust off their shoulders and put some swagger into boarding. Hey, if you're feeling like a pimp...
A couple times I've seen this backfire. I said that the "runners", as I'll refer to them from now on, almost always succeed. By no means is it a sure thing. As much as I want to give a fist pump and a hearty "hoozah" to those that make it, I also want to turn around and wince for those that don't. I mean come on, how embarrassing, right? It's like being that person who thinks someone is waving to them from the other side of the room, waves back, and then realizes that they weren't the intended target-- it was the guy behind them. When I see someone who didn't quiiiiiiite get there, I try to give my "better luck next time" eyes, but to date, none of the runners have picked up on it. They probably think I'm crazy.
#22- Outages-
The water and electricity are known to be unreliable, here in the "developing world". Water outages and blackouts are all too common, even in Karaganda, even in my building. I've woken up on a number of weekends, rallied myself to accomplish everything on my to-do list, only to be thwarted by an unexpected power outage that sends me hurtling back into the stone age. No computer. No TV. No refrigerator. No stove. No explanation, and certainly nobody to call and bitch to in order to get it to be turned back on. Whine whine (I should shut it, I'm supposed to be roughing it in Peace Corps chuckle chuckle), pout.
The same holds true for water- which can go off for days at a time because one of the main water lines burst or froze itself shut. Such is life here in Kazakhstan, and everyone but me is not only OK with it, but hardly thinks it out of the ordinary. I mean, these are people who say "it's OK that they turn the hot water off for 3 months in the summer, because we get it for the other 9 months the rest of the year".
Wait. What?
I usually spend my electricity-less days staring at my world map, reading books I otherwise would have had no interest in, and watching the neighborhood kids fight each other, peering from my balcony like a total creeper. Good times, good times.
#21- Public Music-
Finding personal space in Kazakhstan is about as arduous a task as finding a coastline (read: impossible- there is no coast in Kazakhstan! It's the biggest landlocked country on the planet). It's something I've adjusted to, which was a long and difficult path coming out of a country where you're almost always guaranteed an invisible "space bubble" at least the distance from your shoulder to your fingertips. Having no personal space is normal to me now, which some of you will soon discover as I try to entertain conversations with you while standing uncomfortably close.
However, the thing I have yet to adjust to is the public music. I am often subjected to other people's music interests in confined spaces where I have no other option but to sit restlessly and take it like a man. In Kazakhstan, it is totally acceptable to blast music from your cell phone on the bus, on the train, in the office, in the hallway, on the street, and anywhere else that the urge strikes you to listen to your favorite jams. Sometimes, more than one person decides the time is right, and the result is a dueling cacophony of Russian and B-list American pop music.
Try being on an 18-hour train ride where everyone and their mom can play music at will and there is nothing you can do to stop it. I'm telling you straight up, hold the ice, I would rather cut my left arm off with nothing but cotton balls and floss than spend another minute listening to The PussyCat Dolls on 18-hour repeat. Mr. Got-Stuck-in-A-Mountain-Almost-Died-But-Cut-His-Arm-Off-In-The-End had it good. He had silence.
Public displays of music also occur en masse because supermarkets install outside speakers and "treat" the neighborhood to the nightly playlist of leftover 90's music. No joke, every night during the summer, I had the supermarket on one side of my house playing music from 5pm-11pm, and I had the restaurant on the other side of my house playing music from 5pm-11pm. The only music-free "safe room" in my house was the toilet room. No windows. No vents. Just silence. I've never loved a toilet so much in my life.
OK, that's a lie, but I won't go into the details here.
**Please see my disclaimer in the right hand corner.
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