in kyrgyzstan again

I flew into Bishkek at 5:00 in the morning on the 7th of February of 2009 as the sun was peeking it’s nose over the horizon. I had an aisle seat and the kid next to me had these nice Bose headphones with a little light above the on/off switch that constantly blinked on and off. It was a little grating to have a slow red strobe right on the edge of your peripheral vision; kind of like sleeping with a radio tower’s bright red pulse right outside your window. When the plane ground to a stop on the tarmac we slowly filed out one by one into dusty blackness and made our way to the terminal.

I stood in a silent line along with fifty people (give or take a few) for what seemed like an eternity while a stern-looking militsia man in a wider-brimmed-than-usual military hat paced back and forth and let us trickle to the visa officer one by one. When it was my turn I silently handed the frowning man my passport.

He studied it for several minutes and then made some comment about how I didn’t have a beard anymore (I had one in my passport picture) and I responded in Kyrgyz. That always surprises people. He said some Kyrgyz words to me, flashed me a smile (which militsia men never do), handed me my passport and I was free to go. I went to the baggage return and along the way ran into Aida. She was wearing a forest green overcoat with black fur around the collar and sleeves. It looked beautiful on her. She was standing in the midst of a mass of Kyrgyz taxi drivers all vying for my attention. They wouldn’t have worried about me if they knew where my heart is. After I shooed away the taxi drivers I gave Aida a hug and got my bags. Aida and I chatted on the half-hour ride to our new apartment. Thankfully, the driver stayed quiet.

I love our new apartment. It’s on the 4th floor of a large apartment building near Jibek-Jolu and Sovietskaya streets. The streets are main arteries, so you can hear the traffic pretty prominently throughout the day, but the sounds of the birds chirping overpowers the sound of horns and revving engines. I know

Aida is taking six classes at AUCA (American University of Central Asia), so I’m left to myself a lot. With the time I’ll usually read some of The Catcher in the Rye (which I brought for Aida) or watch Ala TV. Aida’s classes take up time, but they’re fun for her, and for that I’m glad. She’s taking Philosophy, Psychology, Karate, Massage … I think it’s safe to say that Karate is her favorite class. I got to see her Karate outfit two days ago. It’s all white and clean and fits her well. She’s also proud of her outfit. Her Karate class is a good distance away from AUCA and it’s at night so I walk with her to it then I sit in a café, order tea and read The Catcher in the Rye. Unfortunately, I can’t watch her Karate class because the instructor for some reason won’t let outsiders in; even fiancés.
Today I went to the U.S. Embassy. They actually let me in this time. The thing that struck me about being in the Embassy for the first time was the doors. The doors are all this really heavy metal, like steel or titanium, and they all have to have bullet-proof glass on them. Not too easy for your Osama bin-Laden type to chuck a bomb into. They reminded me of the doors on Obama’s limo: those big, heavy, two-inch thick, bullet-proof, bomb-proof and anything-you-want-to-throw-at-them-proof. The Consular gave me an affidavit to fill out to get the process started, but first I have to have a job. So I went to London School, where I plan on working, and asked for Kendje. Kendje and I have exchanged a number of emails including my two references (Mrs. Chocklett and Saltanat) and a long questionnaire which I completed in full at two in the morning from Jake and Sara’s apartment in New York. I could barely keep my eyes open. Kendje (who I learned was a woman, I thought she was a man from Africa) now has my cell phone number (I gave it to the very nice girl working at the front desk) and she should call me any minute now. The quicker we get this done, the quicker I will be able to put my mind at ease.
I got to the Embassy in a taxi from Chuy and Sovietskaya. Chuy is a short five or six-block walk from our apartment so I hoofed it. I was going to eat breakfast at Fat Boy’s. A little pricy, it’s an ex-pat café, but they do have good food. I had the breakfast burrito which I seem to recall getting sometime in the past and boy was it delicious. I also got two sausages and they were a pale a pasty version of what we have in the states. I don’t recommend them. When I was done with my chai suut menen (tea with milk, and maybe a little sugar) I hopped in a cab to take me to the Embassy. The cab was 150 som, so I’ll have to figure out which marshrutkas to take. A marshrutka’s only eight som, but it was five a just two years ago. The taxi driver was pretty nice. He was from Osh and told me some great outdoor places to go if I ever should go there. During one part of our conversation he was doing this sloping motion with his hand, but I didn’t know what the word meant so I just nodded and agreed. You find yourself doing that a lot in Kyrgyzstan when you don’t understand something, which with my Kyrgyz skills is often. He would talk and say words and I would nod and then I would understand enough words to get the gist of where the conversation was headed and I’d chime in. I was struggling along as he went down Manas Prospect to the U.S. Embassy and then I saw them. I’d forgotten they were here! Where the road blended with the horizon numerous grandiose white peaks jutted from the mountain behind a light blue haze. It brought back waves of memories of living in Darhan and rising every morning to the snow-capped majesty watching over the quiet town. I remembered one reason that I loved Kyrgyzstan so much. I’ve never been to the mountains, but the dream of being on the side of one of those monstrosities and sucking the cold, thin air into your lungs was a dream I’d dreamt many times in Darhan. I told the cabbie that I lived in the eastern part of the United States and we only had short, rounded mountains covered with trees; not the huge stone monoliths that peppered Kyrgyzstan.

more to come. too tired now.