I've just arrived in Bishkek for a 3-month attempt at learning some Russian. I hope to write about my experiences here, because my internet access will be spotty but I still want to keep in touch with friends and family.
First Impressions
At first glance, Bishkek doesn't seem that different from my hometown of Gaylord, MI. Long, tree lined roads with no street lights at night, cold, snowy, not too much going outside of the center.
I guess the things it has that Gaylord doesn't would include: Russians, Kyrgyzs, Uzbeks, Turks, etc; Soviet monuments; dirt-cheap vodka; public transportation; and international airport and a number of universities.
But in all seriousness, Bishkek feels pretty green and low to the ground. Not too many tall buildings and plenty of space in between apartments and shops.
The London School
The school organized an airport pick-up for my 3am arrival at Manas Airport. I thought I set my alarm for 12pm but somehow managed to set it for 8am. This caused much confusion in the morning. I ate breakfast in the school cafeteria. I thought I ordered eggs, but ended up with three spitting fried eggs and a piece of toast.
I've met a few of the English teachers at the school. Many of them seem to come in couples; perhaps Bishkek is not the next capital for the 20-something single.
My flat is clean and acceptable. The strangest thing about it is there is no sink, unless you count the bathtub. I woke up this morning feeling like I'd slept in a sauna. Asking in the office, I learn that the heat is "centrally controlled," not by the building but by the city. My bathroom light also seems "centrally controlled" for some reason. I also have the possibility of a homestay or renting my own apartment. Will postpone this decision for a few days.
I start classes on Monday. I will have 5 hours of lessons a day, 4 days a week. My classes will be divided among three teachers, teaching Listening/Reading, Grammar and Conversation.
Turkey (and Turkish) in Bishkek
When I first moved to Turkey, I found it impossible to restrain myself from comparing everything to my experiences in the U.S. Now that urge is easily resisted, but perhaps only because it's been replaced by another. During my travels over the past few years, I've found it difficult not to compare the places I visit to Turkey.
A friend from my days at Bogazici is now working as a journalist in Afghanistan, and occasionally visits Istanbul during work holidays. Living without electricity, minimal access to Internet connections and without many modern necessities/conveniences, he told me that living in Kabul gave him an entirely new perspective on Turkey. While he used to stock up on "Western goods" on trips home to the UK to bring back to Istanbul, now he stocks up suitcases in Istanbul to bring back to Kabul.Bishkek is no Kabul, but I think I'll find the same during my time here.
After waking up and organizing my things this morning, I went to stock up on groceries. Afraid to brave the bazaars without knowing the price of anything except the hourly cost of private Russian lessons, I decided to go to the supermarket. I went to "PAMCTOP", which I am pretty sure is MIGROS given the store design and logo. On the shelves, I see rows and rows of Turkish products. Eski Kasar, for example, is an aged cheese in Turkey that is usually 5-6 dollars a wedge. Here, however, it is a complete luxury, at a whopping $30. (That is the cost of 7 hours of one-on-one Russian instruction by a qualified teacher.) There are also Turkish sweets, juices, packaged soups and sauces, and all look like delicacies next to their Russian and Kyrgyz counterparts, whose packaging was created without the benefit of a decent graphic designer.
I break down and buy a simit. Slightly cheaper than in Istanbul. Not the same at all. I need to break away from this Turkey mindset.
When I check out, I realize I don't have enough cash. I am such a dork. The woman looks Kyrgyz, so I apologize and explain in Turkish. She understands, but responds in Russian. Luckily I am perspective and speak both "context" and "body language". I toss a few items, pay, and run home with my tail between my legs.
I can hear your sighs of disappointment. But give me a break - it's my first day. I look over my notes from my Russian class in Istanbul and promise myself no more Turkish (except for emergencies...).
All sorts of exciting experiences await me, such as..."Damn, I bought the fizzy water again."
