Ziploc bags are perhaps the most useful item I have ever received in a package from America*. Not only do they safeguard against the possibility that my Axe bodywash (told you, wrap me in American Eagle and call me a frat boy) could explode en route, but they also serve a variety of purposes once they actually make it to my Central Asian paradise (oxymoron, anyone?).
Indeed, Ziploc bags are an astounding household item, and you too would appreciate their ubiquitous convenience if you suddenly woke up in a world devoid of the little Fresh Keeper dandies. Imagine not being able to properly shake your shake and bake chicken, or freeze anything that doesn't come out tasting like that little clump of freezer ice in the far back corner, or even to arise in the morning knowing that yes, you do have a perfectly sized baggy awaiting your kid's lunch-time PB&J. A world without Ziploc is a world with brown apples, wilty lettuce, and nothing to put your 100ml or less travel size shampoo and conditioner in when TSA insists that you cannot board the plane with your toiletries running around recklessly in your carry-on. The 1 quart Ziploc. is. essential. to. passenger. safety.
Basically, a world without Ziploc is Kazakhstan, because Ziploc doesn't exist here. Instead, we have a one-size fits all, no-close, plastic "packet" that is used for everything from left-overs, to small purchases, to buying fruits and veggies at the bazaar, to storage of random items. I say "packet" because that is its name in Russian, though to me, it is less of a "packet" and more of a weak plastic wannabe. I mean seriously, the Kazakh "packet" can barely hold air without blowing a hole, whereas Ziploc is tried and tested to hold the weight of my entire life and all of my expectations. And I have weighty expectations.
So, you can imagine my cup runnethed over with joy when I received the first batch of Ziploc bags from America. I was so excited, actually, that I gave all of my co-workers one to take home, feeling pretty good about myself for having spread modern conveniences to my Russians (after all, you can turn that sucker upside down and the seal won't break!). They all agreed that yes, these American "packets" were a thing to behold.
Two weeks later I received another package from America, with more Ziploc bags. Again my heart fluttered a little at the thought of all the berries I could safely freeze for enjoyment in the dead of winter, and, like the first time, I had no qualms about sharing my wealth of Ziplocs at the office. I mean, I had only given them one Ziploc, so it was high time to send the second one truckin' their way. As I started to doll them out, one of my co-workers was like, "What am I going to do with this?" to which I replied "Exactly what you did with the first one".
Pause.
"But I only need one- I can wash it and use it again and again". Yes, I said, you can wash it and use it again, but maybe you want to use the bag for another purpose while it is already being used. This way, you don't have to choose, I said.
"I don't think that's very likely, and I think one is enough and I am happy with the one I have".
I wasn't sure what else to say, so I acquiesced and smiled a little on the inside at the thought of only ever having one Ziploc bag. At the time, I was pretty fresh off the not-so-proverbial plane, and my understanding of local culture was limited. In hindsight, I look back on this interaction with complete clarity, for people here are extremely economical and tend to shy away from excess. I mean, globalization has brought a lot of choices to Kazakhstan that were not present 5 years ago (or even since 2009 when I arrived, if we are to be honest), and while people definitely appreciate the scope of options now set before them, most remain steadfastly rooted to old Soviet inclinations of "having every part count", which makes sense when you run it through the lens of collectivization and perestroika years. When you come from a place of having nothing that is truly yours, having one thing seems like enough.
To make a long story short, my Russians have never asked me for a second Ziploc bag, despite my efforts to give them out in various quantities and sizes. Should the powers of the global market ever bring Ziploc to Kazakhstan, I hope their market experts do their research- no need to package the product in quantities of 25 or more. A box of one will do just fine. That's just how Kazakhstan rolls.
Sidenote: If I am ever asked again in an interview, "If you could be any kitchen utensil, what would you be and why?", I am certain that I will answer "I would be a Ziploc bag, because when I was in Kazakhstan, it was the only thing that could keep the sheep's eyes/horse intestine that they gave me after the big guesting event from stinking up my entire house". Done and done, what's more hire-able than that :D
Indeed, Ziploc bags are an astounding household item, and you too would appreciate their ubiquitous convenience if you suddenly woke up in a world devoid of the little Fresh Keeper dandies. Imagine not being able to properly shake your shake and bake chicken, or freeze anything that doesn't come out tasting like that little clump of freezer ice in the far back corner, or even to arise in the morning knowing that yes, you do have a perfectly sized baggy awaiting your kid's lunch-time PB&J. A world without Ziploc is a world with brown apples, wilty lettuce, and nothing to put your 100ml or less travel size shampoo and conditioner in when TSA insists that you cannot board the plane with your toiletries running around recklessly in your carry-on. The 1 quart Ziploc. is. essential. to. passenger. safety.
Basically, a world without Ziploc is Kazakhstan, because Ziploc doesn't exist here. Instead, we have a one-size fits all, no-close, plastic "packet" that is used for everything from left-overs, to small purchases, to buying fruits and veggies at the bazaar, to storage of random items. I say "packet" because that is its name in Russian, though to me, it is less of a "packet" and more of a weak plastic wannabe. I mean seriously, the Kazakh "packet" can barely hold air without blowing a hole, whereas Ziploc is tried and tested to hold the weight of my entire life and all of my expectations. And I have weighty expectations.
So, you can imagine my cup runnethed over with joy when I received the first batch of Ziploc bags from America. I was so excited, actually, that I gave all of my co-workers one to take home, feeling pretty good about myself for having spread modern conveniences to my Russians (after all, you can turn that sucker upside down and the seal won't break!). They all agreed that yes, these American "packets" were a thing to behold.
Two weeks later I received another package from America, with more Ziploc bags. Again my heart fluttered a little at the thought of all the berries I could safely freeze for enjoyment in the dead of winter, and, like the first time, I had no qualms about sharing my wealth of Ziplocs at the office. I mean, I had only given them one Ziploc, so it was high time to send the second one truckin' their way. As I started to doll them out, one of my co-workers was like, "What am I going to do with this?" to which I replied "Exactly what you did with the first one".
Pause.
"But I only need one- I can wash it and use it again and again". Yes, I said, you can wash it and use it again, but maybe you want to use the bag for another purpose while it is already being used. This way, you don't have to choose, I said.
"I don't think that's very likely, and I think one is enough and I am happy with the one I have".
I wasn't sure what else to say, so I acquiesced and smiled a little on the inside at the thought of only ever having one Ziploc bag. At the time, I was pretty fresh off the not-so-proverbial plane, and my understanding of local culture was limited. In hindsight, I look back on this interaction with complete clarity, for people here are extremely economical and tend to shy away from excess. I mean, globalization has brought a lot of choices to Kazakhstan that were not present 5 years ago (or even since 2009 when I arrived, if we are to be honest), and while people definitely appreciate the scope of options now set before them, most remain steadfastly rooted to old Soviet inclinations of "having every part count", which makes sense when you run it through the lens of collectivization and perestroika years. When you come from a place of having nothing that is truly yours, having one thing seems like enough.
To make a long story short, my Russians have never asked me for a second Ziploc bag, despite my efforts to give them out in various quantities and sizes. Should the powers of the global market ever bring Ziploc to Kazakhstan, I hope their market experts do their research- no need to package the product in quantities of 25 or more. A box of one will do just fine. That's just how Kazakhstan rolls.
Sidenote: If I am ever asked again in an interview, "If you could be any kitchen utensil, what would you be and why?", I am certain that I will answer "I would be a Ziploc bag, because when I was in Kazakhstan, it was the only thing that could keep the sheep's eyes/horse intestine that they gave me after the big guesting event from stinking up my entire house". Done and done, what's more hire-able than that :D
*Linda- don't get me wrong, your chocolate pooping cow from Easter '10 comes in at a close second...
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