#10- Nobody Likes Bush:
If you thought that President Bush's approval ratings were low when he was in office, you should come talk to a random person on the street in Kazakhstan. Any person will do really; they all say the same thing. The widespread and intense disapproval of Bush is, funny enough, my ace in the hole when it comes to reviving waning small talk in a taxi or on the train. All it takes is a "So, what do you think about Bush" and they're off and running for a good 20 minutes about this or that reason for their distrust and hatred of Bush 2 (Bush 1 is considered an alright guy in comparison), and all I have to do is insert an obligatory "mmhmm" here and there.
Sometimes, the question is posed in reverse, and people ask ME what I think about Bush. In this situation, my actual feelings about Bush are irrelevant (and I'm pretty sure most other PCVs handle this question in a similar way) because the correct answer is always, always, always "Bush?" "Phooey" "I never liked him and he makes me embarrassed to be an American".
And ta-da! Almost instantly I go from being an outsider to an insider; suddenly the taxi driver is a lot friendlier, or if on the train, the fried bread products and chai start flowing my way. Oh the things we do for integration, wink wink.
#9- Working Hard for the Money:
A lot of people in Kazakhstan look at America as the pinnacle of economic success, where "the good life" is not something to aspire to in the future, it is a daily reality in the present, an unending and unimpeded stream of sweet, sweet nectar dripping from the tree of life in the garden of your everlasting dreams.
Gag. We have 40 million people living in poverty and China owns our soul.
Resume post. America is so resolutely posed on the pedestal of financial achievement, that a lot of people tape fake American dollars to their wall, the inside of their car, the dash of the bus, the front cover of their school notebook, and so on and so forth. I had a good conversation with a taxi driver once, who had a $1million bill taped on the dash, and he told me that he acquired the bill as a constant reminder of his life's purpose: " to make the good money", as he put it. He said that the bill was good luck because American money is by far the luckiest currency. It just so happened that I had a $2 bill in my wallet because my friend Laura had given it to me on a whim when she visited us for New Years, and I pulled it out and showed it to him. I explained that we don't use $2 bills anymore and that the government stopped printing them many years ago. I said "to have a $2 bill really IS lucky, even for Americans". I wanted to give it to him, but then he asked me, "So how much is it in tenge?"- to which I had to respond that it was about the cost of the taxi ride.
Needless to say he didn't want my lucky $2 bill, haha, because two dollars after all, is not "the good money".
#8- National Dishes:
One of the first things I learned about Kazakhstan when I arrived in August 2009 is that "Bishbarmak" is the "national dish". Bishbarmark, meaning "5 fingers" in Kazakh (because in the old days you were supposed to eat it with your fingers), is a noodle and horsemeat dish that is often served in Kazakh families, and always served on national holidays. When I lived with a Kazakh family during my first 3 months in-country, we ate Bishbarmak 3 out of the 7 days of the week. They were absolutely tickled that an American was eating the national dish of Kazakhstan.
The idea of a "national dish" is so ingrained here because the Soviet Union transported many people of different nationalities to live and work in settlements aimed at providing resources to Moscow. Uzbeks, Tajiks, Armenians, Koreans, Chechens, Tatars, Uigors,
To this day, everyone talks about local foods in terms of "national dishes", and whenever I'm at a cafe with locals, they make sure to point out which dish is from which nationality. It's such a point of conversation that the question "What is the national dish of America" always makes the top 5 most frequently asked questions, to which I have responded with "Tacos" (no, that's not quite right), "Hamburgers" (makes us all look like fatties), "Pizza" (wait, they already know that's Italian), "Apple pie" (which is not considered a 'dish' but a 'desert'), and so on.
I really don't have an answer to the "What is America's national dish" question, and people here simply do not comprehend how this is possible. But we don't have one! We are, gasp, a nation without a national dish.
#7- Billboards:
Before coming to Kazakhstan, I had never heard of "Kazakhstan 2030", which is the all-important, omnipresent set of strategic, economic, diplomatic, and development goals that are destined to be achieved by 2030, so that Kazakhstan can be in the top 50 most developed countries in the world. Most people in Kazakhstan have no idea what the "Kazakhstan 2030" policy actually includes, but everyone and their mom knows that it exists. Why? Because "Kazakhstan 2030" is written on more billboards and buildings than you can shake a stick at. Seriously, the amount of government-commissioned advertising is astounding, and makes me wonder if we also have government-related billboards in America and I just failed to notice them. Here, though, I notice them all the time, and Nazarbayev's beautiful smiling face has greeted me on almost every street in every city I have been in in Kazakhstan.
#6- Nothing is What it Seems:
This particular item is a double-edged sword for me. On the one hand, it humors me to no end, and keeps me on my toes with the locals. Gotta love a good challenge. On the other hand, it exhausts my patience and reminds me that my "confrontational Russian voice" is not nearly as intimidating as I'd like it to be, haha. With that, I should explain exactly what I'm talking about.
In Kazakhstan, nothing is what it seems because everyone has different information about the same thing, OR, the information can change depending on how you word a given question. For example, when Tess and I were in Balhash, I went to the bus station to buy tickets to come back to Karaganda. I went up to the window and had the following conversation:
Me: "I'd like to buy 2 tickets to Karaganda for tomorrow".
Lady: "There are no tickets".
Me: "There are no tickets tomorrow?"
Lady: "No, there are no seats to Karaganda".
Me: "There are no seats on the afternoon bus to Karaganda?"
Lady: "No, no seats".
Me: "So I cannot go to Karaganda?"
Lady: "No, no seats."
Stop. If this was in America, everyone behind me would know that I'm a douche who has a hearing problem and they'd likely tell me to stop hassling the poor window lady and to plan my travels a bit better. But in Kazakhstan, this is just the opening act of a long, drawn out interaction that often continues as follows:
Me: "What about in the morning, are there seats in the morning?"
Lady: "There might be seats in the morning."
Me: "OK, so there are tickets to Karaganda tomorrow in the morning?"
Lady: "No, but there might be a spare bus because of the holidays".
Me: "OK, so can I go to Karaganda in the morning?"
Lady: "Yes, god willing ,you can go".
Me: "OK so how do I buy a ticket?"
Lady: "You can buy a ticket here".
Me: "But you said there were no tickets".
Lady: "There are tickets for the extra bus only".
Me: "Ah yes, I see. Well I want 2 tickets."
Lady: "To go to Karaganda tomorrow morning?"
Me: "Yes, that's right. Sitting together, please".
Lady: "OK".
Perhaps it's one of those "you had to be there moments" and you can't quite fathom the humor in the situation, but it is all too common here that when someone tells you one thing, like "there are no tickets tomorrow", what they really mean is the exact opposite, provided you ask the right questions. Nothing, I repeat, nothing, is what it seems. Not at the post office, not at the train station, not at the airport, not at a cafe, not at a hotel, NOWHERE. In order to get a good feel for a situation, I've found that triangulating between 3 different locals is most efficient. However, in the Balhash bus situation, there was only one cashier lady, so I couldn't go to another one and ask about tickets for the following day. Lucky for me, I'm one of those hardened, weathered, senior PCVs who knows not to take anything at face value, chuckle chuckle. As I said, it's a double-edged sword this one, but we got on the bus the next morning.
If you thought that President Bush's approval ratings were low when he was in office, you should come talk to a random person on the street in Kazakhstan. Any person will do really; they all say the same thing. The widespread and intense disapproval of Bush is, funny enough, my ace in the hole when it comes to reviving waning small talk in a taxi or on the train. All it takes is a "So, what do you think about Bush" and they're off and running for a good 20 minutes about this or that reason for their distrust and hatred of Bush 2 (Bush 1 is considered an alright guy in comparison), and all I have to do is insert an obligatory "mmhmm" here and there.
Sometimes, the question is posed in reverse, and people ask ME what I think about Bush. In this situation, my actual feelings about Bush are irrelevant (and I'm pretty sure most other PCVs handle this question in a similar way) because the correct answer is always, always, always "Bush?"
To this day, everyone talks about local foods in terms of "national dishes", and whenever I'm at a cafe with locals, they make sure to point out which dish is from which nationality. It's such a point of conversation that the question "What is the national dish of America" always makes the top 5 most frequently asked questions, to which I have responded with "Tacos" (no, that's not quite right), "Hamburgers" (makes us all look like fatties), "Pizza" (wait, they already know that's Italian), "Apple pie" (which is not considered a 'dish' but a 'desert'), and so on.
I really don't have an answer to the "What is America's national dish" question, and people here simply do not comprehend how this is possible. But we don't have one! We are, gasp, a nation without a national dish.
#7- Billboards:
Before coming to Kazakhstan, I had never heard of "Kazakhstan 2030", which is the all-important, omnipresent set of strategic, economic, diplomatic, and development goals that are destined to be achieved by 2030, so that Kazakhstan can be in the top 50 most developed countries in the world. Most people in Kazakhstan have no idea what the "Kazakhstan 2030" policy actually includes, but everyone and their mom knows that it exists. Why? Because "Kazakhstan 2030" is written on more billboards and buildings than you can shake a stick at. Seriously, the amount of government-commissioned advertising is astounding, and makes me wonder if we also have government-related billboards in America and I just failed to notice them. Here, though, I notice them all the time, and Nazarbayev's beautiful smiling face has greeted me on almost every street in every city I have been in in Kazakhstan.
#6- Nothing is What it Seems:
This particular item is a double-edged sword for me. On the one hand, it humors me to no end, and keeps me on my toes with the locals. Gotta love a good challenge. On the other hand, it exhausts my patience and reminds me that my "confrontational Russian voice" is not nearly as intimidating as I'd like it to be, haha. With that, I should explain exactly what I'm talking about.
In Kazakhstan, nothing is what it seems because everyone has different information about the same thing, OR, the information can change depending on how you word a given question. For example, when Tess and I were in Balhash, I went to the bus station to buy tickets to come back to Karaganda. I went up to the window and had the following conversation:
Me: "I'd like to buy 2 tickets to Karaganda for tomorrow".
Lady: "There are no tickets".
Me: "There are no tickets tomorrow?"
Lady: "No, there are no seats to Karaganda".
Me: "There are no seats on the afternoon bus to Karaganda?"
Lady: "No, no seats".
Me: "So I cannot go to Karaganda?"
Lady: "No, no seats."
Stop. If this was in America, everyone behind me would know that I'm a douche who has a hearing problem and they'd likely tell me to stop hassling the poor window lady and to plan my travels a bit better. But in Kazakhstan, this is just the opening act of a long, drawn out interaction that often continues as follows:
Me: "What about in the morning, are there seats in the morning?"
Lady: "There might be seats in the morning."
Me: "OK, so there are tickets to Karaganda tomorrow in the morning?"
Lady: "No, but there might be a spare bus because of the holidays".
Me: "OK, so can I go to Karaganda in the morning?"
Lady: "Yes, god willing ,you can go".
Me: "OK so how do I buy a ticket?"
Lady: "You can buy a ticket here".
Me: "But you said there were no tickets".
Lady: "There are tickets for the extra bus only".
Me: "Ah yes, I see. Well I want 2 tickets."
Lady: "To go to Karaganda tomorrow morning?"
Me: "Yes, that's right. Sitting together, please".
Lady: "OK".
Perhaps it's one of those "you had to be there moments" and you can't quite fathom the humor in the situation, but it is all too common here that when someone tells you one thing, like "there are no tickets tomorrow", what they really mean is the exact opposite, provided you ask the right questions. Nothing, I repeat, nothing, is what it seems. Not at the post office, not at the train station, not at the airport, not at a cafe, not at a hotel, NOWHERE. In order to get a good feel for a situation, I've found that triangulating between 3 different locals is most efficient. However, in the Balhash bus situation, there was only one cashier lady, so I couldn't go to another one and ask about tickets for the following day. Lucky for me, I'm one of those hardened, weathered, senior PCVs who knows not to take anything at face value, chuckle chuckle. As I said, it's a double-edged sword this one, but we got on the bus the next morning.
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