Kazakhstan is behind the times when it comes to music preference-it seems like what was popular in America in the 90's is still hanging on strong in a lot of places in Kazakhstan. Just last Friday I was listening to the radio at work and "Hit Me Baby One More Time" came on, but instead of being played as a throwback to the good ole days, it was broadcast as if it was still a chart topper. A lot of cafes in Karaganda play music, like the restaurant in front of my apartment, and their selection is almost entirely music from the 90s. I can't even tell you how many times I've heard Mambo Number 5, or Who Let the Dogs Out, not to mention obscure one-hit wonders from the 80's. Who knew that "Black Velvet" would make it so far?
#29- Lines-
America is a country of lines. We stand in lines in the supermarket, we organize ourselves into lines at the post office, and we certainly stand in line to board a moving vehicle. From an early age, when teachers file their students into perfectly straight lines, we learn the importance of knowing your place and respecting the general order of those in front of you and behind you. I once saw a full fight break out between old ladies because one of them "cut the line" during the holiday season. America is a no cuts kind of place, even between the elderly.
Kazakhstan, on the other hand, is a country where lines take on more of a cluster-like form. OK let's be honest, lines don't exist here. If you want to ever make it to the front, you have to throw some elbows and keep constant vigilance with your best stink eye. People won't just cut you in Kazakhstan, they will edge you out completely. One second you're standing there, next to reach the window, and the next second a group has pushed you out of the way and you're a breath away from the squat toilets, wondering how much you really want to collect that package from America.
The closest thing that Kazakhstan has to a line is the verbal rank and file. In some places, like the Alma TV service center, you must ask the collective standing around "who is the edge" or "who is last", to which the last person will tell you "I am". You must then find a place to stand, and keep an eye on him or her to avoid being skipped. Sometimes, the last person may be standing on the street having a smoke, and when you walk in and ask the collective "who is the edge", they will tell you "the man on the street who is smoking". You have no idea who this man is, what he looks likes, or when he is coming back, but the fact that the collective has named him last means that the man on the street is the man in front of you. When the next person comes in and asks "who is the edge", you must tell them "I am, after the man on the street smoking". In this way, a disorganized line eventually forms, with darting glances being thrown here and there across the room to monitor one's status in the queue. Once, a man walked in and ignored the collective, never asking "who is the edge", and instead went straight for the ticket office. Before he could get there, though, there was an outburst from others standing around who quickly informed him that he was behind the "girl with the red scarf" who was "behind the man smoking on the street" who was "behind the woman with the black fur coat" who was "behind the woman with the 2 children" and so on and so forth. I was actually amazed that people remembered the entire lineup with such personal attention to detail. You'd think that a lot of mental energy would be spared if people just stood in a line.
The no cuts policy would always prove problematic in Kazakhstan, however, for the elderly, carte blanche, get to move to the front of the line. They've had a hard life and get street cred for just walking around outside on the ice without breaking a hip. The whole collective is rearranged when an elderly person walks in the door. No ifs ands or buts.
#28- Slow Internet-
Internet in America is like a 550 horsepower Mustang GT. It may not turn on a dime but the acceleration rate is such that your fingers get a little tingly just thinking about the power. Internet in Kazakhstan, however, is more like a horse and buggy system. No matter how hard you to try to crack the whip, the ole mare just won't get up and go. Even when you run her wide open, you only ever get a slow jaunt, if you're lucky. Slow internet is something I've adapted to, and when I return to America, I really don't know what I will do with the instant gratification type of internet we get from our high-powered fiber optic cables. Actually, I may feel jipped, like my internet is preventing me from getting up to make a snack, or take a nap, or go to the store. And who does my internet think it is to load so fast that I can't simultaneously enjoy a bite? In Kazakhstan, it takes 7 or 8 hours to download an episode of Grey's Anatomy. By the time I have it actually on my hard-drive in totality, I have gotten myself so worked up with anticipation that watching the show is nothing short of blissful. Everything will just feel cheapened when I can stream it live from the internet...or watch it on wifi at Starbucks.
#27- Schedules-
Because planning is often an elusive concept in Central Asia, so too are schedules. Last summer I went to the train station to buy a ticket to go to a summer camp. I wanted to buy the ticket 2 weeks in advance because I was worried that the students' summer break would make the trains fill up faster. After I told the cashier the destination and date of my travel, she looked at me as if I was blind, deaf, and dumb and informed me that it was "too soon to possibly know the schedule in 2 weeks". "Why?", I asked. "Because we have no idea when the track renovation will be completed". "So, if it's not completed what will I do?" Then she said, "I don't know, it's not my problem. Come back next week and see if there is a schedule".
This is common in Kazakhstan, as are last-minute schedule changes. Last-minute schedule changes happen in schools, with meetings, with celebrations, and everything else in-between. I think this is what Peace Corps meant when they said "flexibility is key to success".
#26- Misuse of English- Because Kazakhstan is a completely bilingual country, all advertisements, billboards, or signs are written in both Kazakh and Russian languages. Hardly ever will you find a sign with one language and not the other. However, because Nazarbayev has pushed the importance of English as being the "third national language of Kazakhstan", some places are now attempting to use all three languages for their advertisement needs. I always admire their effort-I mean, most of America is firmly rooted to single language proficiency and we can barely handle that in itself. Imagine trying to write everything in 3 languages all the time. Nevertheless, sometimes they get the translation wrong, and the results are humorous for native speakers (see photos below). I've seen grammatically incorrect signs in even the most prestigious locations in Almaty and Astana, which makes me think that a good job for a Peace Corps volunteer is to advise the team of translators responsible for public displays of English, haha.
Even so, there would still be the problem of brand names. A very popular brand of soap and detergent is called "Barf". That's right. Barf. This, as well as other examples, never fails to bring out the most immature side of any ex-pat living in Central Asia. I encourage you to let your mind run wild in the hilarity of not acting your age and laugh out loud knowing that I wash my clothes with Barf.
#29- Lines-
America is a country of lines. We stand in lines in the supermarket, we organize ourselves into lines at the post office, and we certainly stand in line to board a moving vehicle. From an early age, when teachers file their students into perfectly straight lines, we learn the importance of knowing your place and respecting the general order of those in front of you and behind you. I once saw a full fight break out between old ladies because one of them "cut the line" during the holiday season. America is a no cuts kind of place, even between the elderly.
Kazakhstan, on the other hand, is a country where lines take on more of a cluster-like form. OK let's be honest, lines don't exist here. If you want to ever make it to the front, you have to throw some elbows and keep constant vigilance with your best stink eye. People won't just cut you in Kazakhstan, they will edge you out completely. One second you're standing there, next to reach the window, and the next second a group has pushed you out of the way and you're a breath away from the squat toilets, wondering how much you really want to collect that package from America.
The closest thing that Kazakhstan has to a line is the verbal rank and file. In some places, like the Alma TV service center, you must ask the collective standing around "who is the edge" or "who is last", to which the last person will tell you "I am". You must then find a place to stand, and keep an eye on him or her to avoid being skipped. Sometimes, the last person may be standing on the street having a smoke, and when you walk in and ask the collective "who is the edge", they will tell you "the man on the street who is smoking". You have no idea who this man is, what he looks likes, or when he is coming back, but the fact that the collective has named him last means that the man on the street is the man in front of you. When the next person comes in and asks "who is the edge", you must tell them "I am, after the man on the street smoking". In this way, a disorganized line eventually forms, with darting glances being thrown here and there across the room to monitor one's status in the queue. Once, a man walked in and ignored the collective, never asking "who is the edge", and instead went straight for the ticket office. Before he could get there, though, there was an outburst from others standing around who quickly informed him that he was behind the "girl with the red scarf" who was "behind the man smoking on the street" who was "behind the woman with the black fur coat" who was "behind the woman with the 2 children" and so on and so forth. I was actually amazed that people remembered the entire lineup with such personal attention to detail. You'd think that a lot of mental energy would be spared if people just stood in a line.
The no cuts policy would always prove problematic in Kazakhstan, however, for the elderly, carte blanche, get to move to the front of the line. They've had a hard life and get street cred for just walking around outside on the ice without breaking a hip. The whole collective is rearranged when an elderly person walks in the door. No ifs ands or buts.
#28- Slow Internet-
Internet in America is like a 550 horsepower Mustang GT. It may not turn on a dime but the acceleration rate is such that your fingers get a little tingly just thinking about the power. Internet in Kazakhstan, however, is more like a horse and buggy system. No matter how hard you to try to crack the whip, the ole mare just won't get up and go. Even when you run her wide open, you only ever get a slow jaunt, if you're lucky. Slow internet is something I've adapted to, and when I return to America, I really don't know what I will do with the instant gratification type of internet we get from our high-powered fiber optic cables. Actually, I may feel jipped, like my internet is preventing me from getting up to make a snack, or take a nap, or go to the store. And who does my internet think it is to load so fast that I can't simultaneously enjoy a bite? In Kazakhstan, it takes 7 or 8 hours to download an episode of Grey's Anatomy. By the time I have it actually on my hard-drive in totality, I have gotten myself so worked up with anticipation that watching the show is nothing short of blissful. Everything will just feel cheapened when I can stream it live from the internet...or watch it on wifi at Starbucks.
#27- Schedules-
Because planning is often an elusive concept in Central Asia, so too are schedules. Last summer I went to the train station to buy a ticket to go to a summer camp. I wanted to buy the ticket 2 weeks in advance because I was worried that the students' summer break would make the trains fill up faster. After I told the cashier the destination and date of my travel, she looked at me as if I was blind, deaf, and dumb and informed me that it was "too soon to possibly know the schedule in 2 weeks". "Why?", I asked. "Because we have no idea when the track renovation will be completed". "So, if it's not completed what will I do?" Then she said, "I don't know, it's not my problem. Come back next week and see if there is a schedule".
This is common in Kazakhstan, as are last-minute schedule changes. Last-minute schedule changes happen in schools, with meetings, with celebrations, and everything else in-between. I think this is what Peace Corps meant when they said "flexibility is key to success".
#26- Misuse of English- Because Kazakhstan is a completely bilingual country, all advertisements, billboards, or signs are written in both Kazakh and Russian languages. Hardly ever will you find a sign with one language and not the other. However, because Nazarbayev has pushed the importance of English as being the "third national language of Kazakhstan", some places are now attempting to use all three languages for their advertisement needs. I always admire their effort-I mean, most of America is firmly rooted to single language proficiency and we can barely handle that in itself. Imagine trying to write everything in 3 languages all the time. Nevertheless, sometimes they get the translation wrong, and the results are humorous for native speakers (see photos below). I've seen grammatically incorrect signs in even the most prestigious locations in Almaty and Astana, which makes me think that a good job for a Peace Corps volunteer is to advise the team of translators responsible for public displays of English, haha.
Even so, there would still be the problem of brand names. A very popular brand of soap and detergent is called "Barf". That's right. Barf. This, as well as other examples, never fails to bring out the most immature side of any ex-pat living in Central Asia. I encourage you to let your mind run wild in the hilarity of not acting your age and laugh out loud knowing that I wash my clothes with Barf.
**Please see my disclaimer located in the top right corner.
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