Coming out of my "cave"

There is nothing like -45 degree temperatures (in both celsius AND fahrenheit) to turn a person into a hermit. The very thought of sticking any sort of appendage outside for even a second send shivers down your spine. Blankets are your outer wear and tea takes the place of your mittens as you huddle inside, taking comfort, like a bear in its cave, of the small room you have. Yet, there is still work and food that draws you out of the room. Unlike a bear during hibernation, you are not able to gather food to last the winter. Your refrigerator is simply not big enough. Also unlike a bear during hibernation, you have bills to pay, people to see, and a paycheck to earn. And thus begins the process of donning four layers of clothes, for every part of the body (ok, maybe a bit of an exageration, but not really that big of one!). There is the need to add 10 minutes to the amount of time it takes to get out the door. This cycle repeated itself for me, day after day, for one month. It is a hopeless predicament to find oneself in - cold, ice, snow (white, black, brown), and gray skies...The mood is depressed and energy is gone. Then, a change occurs.

It happened so subtly one day. Yet despite the subtleness of it all, the change in weather sent ripples through the earth. It was so blissful. It came unexpectedly and quietly - the sun lit up the sky and the earth below it, the birds came out and sang their songs, and I could feel his face. There is nothing like a long, cold winter to erase from your mind the feeling of warmth and sunlight. As I walked to work, it seemed every molecule in my body was waking up and starting to dance. My mood improved instantly, a smile appeared on my lips, the walk to the university seemed shorter all of a sudden, and the world around me sprung into excitement. Although I escaped the deep winter cold of Tuva by going to St. Petersburg, February nonetheless was cold and dark enough to set me into the "hibernation" I described above. All desire to be outside froze in the chill and I receded the boundaries of my domain to the walls of my apartment, stretching them to include the university only on work days. My accomplishments were movie marathons and sleeping. What else was there to do? Well now, that is all over.

Spring has come to Tuva and with it, the energy of the sun itself!

It is visible not only in the extended length of days or the blue skies, but also on the faces of people walking by. Everyone seems a bit happier (but just a bit) with an extra bounce added to each step. As I mentioned in my last post, the deep, cold winters of northern countries help me appreciate the warmer months of the year. Now, my apprectional is at maximum, and it is only March!

I confess, that as I returned in February to Kyzyl, I felt very little desire to explore more in Tuva. Even the mountains, visible from my window by day and by night, lost their hold on me. Any thought of exploring outside or hiking was instantly swept away by the cold winds. Yet, it seems that those thoughts were not swept away forever; having come back on the rays of the sun. Now, I gaze upon the mountains and feel once again that desire to set foot upon them and wander around without a map, following my feelings and the direction of the wind. This thirst and hunger for adventure grows each day, fed my dreams of what lies beyond the mountains. I recently opened up a book that was given to me by my students in December. It's entitled "The Treasures of Tuva" and on the inside cover is a map of Tuva. I never bought a map of the republic when I arrived here in the fall, so I had not especially looked at one, relying mostly on how people described the layout of the republic to be. The map ignited in me a desire to touch every part of Tuva. Maps are magical in that way. They allow us to see places that are physically far away from us, but so easily "travelled" to with our eyes. We can plan a route as quickly as making dinner. That is what I did as I looked upon this map. Earlier, I had thought that I would want to visit Mongolia. While I still would like to see that country, I realized how much of Tuva is left to discover! All of it! Also, there is the issue of the border crossings, which allow only citizens of the Russian Federation and Mongolia to transit over the border. This is the case only on the Tuvan border. Of course. But, that then leaves me the only option of travelling in Tuva;
which is more than enough!

Reflections on Winter

One of the most common associations with Russia is “winter”: cold, ferocious, and everlasting. Many are not aware that Russia, like many places on the planet, also enjoys all four seasons of the year. Some places indeed are only allowed a short spring and summer before the snows fall, but that is by no means the rule for the whole country. Summers in St. Petersburg for example are wonderful, light-filled periods full of romance and adventure. In Tyva, locals seek entertainment and recreation in the wilds of nature, forsaking the urban jungle. It irritates me a bit when I’m asked only about how cold it gets in Russia as the focus on the winter betrays the beauty of the rest of the seasons. Yet as I write about my perturbedness, I cannot focus on the summer quite yet. Outside the window of the café where I currently sit, winter hangs over the city of St. Petersburg. Smoke rises from chimneys and hangs in the air, frozen by the cold. The sun shines as if it is five o’clock in the evening when it is in fact only two in the afternoon. People bundle themselves in large coats with real or fake fur and rush to and fro, aiming to stay outside only as long as necessary. This is however the first day of winter that I have experienced in St. Petersburg since arriving on the 27^th of December. Due to the changing climate of our planet, winter arrived late here, bringing with it cold temperatures and snow.

I arrived on a temperate, rainy day more akin to the weather of April than to that of December. It felt as if I had stepped off the plane into a tropical zone as I had just left -30 degree temperatures in Tyva. While feeling sad about the lack of snow for New Year's, I must confess that it was a welcome relief to walk around without gloves and to be able to see, as a scarf was not covering most of my face. While winter here involves many discomforts (clothing being on the top of my list as there is no way to undress quickly when you are wearing three to five layers...), there is a certain exhilaration I get from experiencing winter in the Russian Federation. Northern countries and territories make winter "more real" than in other parts of the globe where winter occurs. Here especially, the feeling of cold wind on the skin, white snow crunching under your feet, and the sight of frozen rivers and lakes both chills and invigorates. Inhabitants of the Russian Federation know and understand winter better than other places I have been. When it's cold, proper clothing is required and expected. Yet cold temperatures do not keep the locals inside, cowering under blankets. On the contrary, they run off to enjoy traditional winter activities like skiing and sledding, walking outside, going to New Year's and Christmas markets and other festivals. Blanket cowering is allowed though and also enjoyed by a majority of the population.

Grey, black, white...

Another sign of winter in these parts is the increased amount of darkness. The days grow shorter in many areas of the globe around winter, but in northern countries, the change is felt more strongly. In St. Petersburg for example, the sun will rise only after eleven o'clock in the morning and set already by five o'clock in the evening. Waking up early is especially difficult under these conditions. Kyzyl, being a smaller city with fewer street lamps is especially dark in the winter time. When I return home from class at six-thirty in the evening, the sun has already set, adding even more so to the day's weariness. I trudge home not necessarily through the snow, but most assuredly through the cold. I rush inside of my apartment building and run up the stars in an effort to get heat through my body. My apartment greets me with warmth and light. Then the effort commences of changing into lighter clothing. On a teaching day, I could be wearing two or three layers on my legs, two pairs of socks with boots, three or four layers on my upper body with a coat, a hat, scarf, and gloves. My boots are warm, but heavy. I know that awaiting me tomorrow is all of this over again and it will repeat until spring arrives. In spite of this, I cannot help but feel the authenticity of the winter. This is not a place where it snows one day and in a week the snow disappears. The cold temperatures are not a "cold front" either but the time of year. It also allows for a greater appreciation for the warmer months. Summer here seems so much brighter and exciting than in other places because of the winter. When five or more layers are required for three or more months, then warm weather is something to rejoice in and not take for granted. The brightness of the surroundings is something that is sorely missed in the darker months. And thus I shall part with an interesting bit of trivia about Siberia.

Back in January of 2012, I travelled across Siberia on the Trans-Siberian railroad, making stops along the way to see the cities of the eastern side of the country. During my travels I noticed that some buildings and houses were painted in bright colors such as blue and pink. I asked one of my hosts why this was so and they explained that it was due to the nature of the winters in the region. First off, the days are shorter, but even when it is "daytime", the sky may still be a sad gray. Secondly, the snow stays around for months at a time. Thus, the only colors one could see during the winter are variations of black, gray, and white. To help prevent color blindness or at least to provide people, especially children, with some sense of life during these months, they paint buildings with bright colors. I find this fact interesting but never really understood how necessary it is until this year in Kyzyl.

On my way to and from the university is an apartment building that is painted pink. In the fall I found it to be a bit outrageous, but now I no longer laugh. Everyday my eyes feast upon the brightness of that building's color, enjoying if only for a few moments that which is lacking in the environment around us.

An American walks into a village house...

And immediately sees the remains of a dead cow on the floor. This could of course be quite alarming, triggering scenes from horror or plague films. Luckily for me however, this was merely the result of the years-old tradition of preparing for the winter. Today, many forget that food once operated according to the seasons. Pumpkin pie is associated with the fall and not summer, winter, spring because in those months, there was not pumpkin to be had. Of course, food still grows according to the weather, but as we receive food from all over the world in our globalized world, the only change we notice is an increase in price of "non seasonal" foodstuffs. Storing food for winter is a practice I would poster that many of us are unfamiliar with in the 21st century. It is not however forgotten in all parts of the world, as I noticed this weekend.

Tuvan cuisine is based on one principle: meat and everything else that comes with it. With snow already on the ground, winter has come and made its make in Tyva for well over a month now. The temperatures have been keeping with the season with today's temperature being around -17 degrees Celsius (that's 0 degrees Fahrenheit for y'all in the states). Currently, it is hovering around -22 degrees Celsius (-7 degrees Fahrenheit). That is by no means the end of it. The weather promises to get much colder come January, even dropping down to -40 degrees Celsius (which coincidentally is -40 degrees Fahrenheit). Winter in Tyva is serious. Living in such a climate has produced the principle of meat in Tuvan cuisine. In terms of vegetables, there is little that grows here. Furthermore, the Tuvans are traditionally a nomadic people, thus farming was only recently introduced into the culture. To cope with the fierce winters, Tuvans drink a heart tea that is made with green tea, salt, and milk. It not only warms up your innards, but also fills you up as well. That is by no means, the end of the meal though. That would be leaving out the meat. I mented above that Tuvans eat meat and everything else that comes with it. That means EVERYTHING. The remains of the cow I saw in the house understand what I am getting at.

The setting is the small village of Telli (Тэлли) in the western district of "Bai-Taiga" (Бай-Тайга) in the Republic of Tyva. I was invited to this place by my colleague, the chair of the English Department. Both she and her husband are originally from this village. We gathered into a small car, four people (my colleague's sister-in-law also joined us) and set off into the night. It was a five-hour
journey that was unfortunately done in the dark, meaning I missed most of the scenery along the road. What I did not miss were the stars. When we stopped about halfway through the trip to use the restroom (which was an outhouse) and grab some tea and snack, I looked up and beheld a majestic sight. The stars shone so brightly and seemed so close, that I felt I could reach up and grab them. It was one of the clearest and most beautiful skies I had ever seen. It was an especially unique moment for me because I had not really seen the stars or looked at them for quite some time. In Kyzyl, we have smog in the winter, because everyone heats their houses with coal, thus leaving the sky not at all visible. Now, our windows are frozen over, bringing visibility down even further. The sky remained just as marvelous the rest of my stay outside of Kyzyl. We arrived in Telli around 1:00 AM. Greeting us was a cold, brisk night air,
an angry dog, the remains of the cow, and our gracious host, Tat'yana. We came into the house and were immediately sat down around the table in the small kitchen. Soup was dished out to all and two big plates with meat (still on the bones), liver and heart, and onions. I should mention that the soup contained meat as well as bone or something else that was not meat. In any case, it was all very delicious and filling.

Setting to work on the cow.

We then all settled in for the night. I slept wonderfully and awoke to the sight of my colleague's husband and his father cutting into a hunk of meat on the kitchen floor. They cut through, taking clumps off until they came to the bones, making sure nothing was left to be wasted on the bones. Moving from there, they systematically cut off all the meat and harvested the innards of the rest of the cow, moving out of the kitchen into the living room (where I had slept the night before) to work at the bigger parts. Breakfast was served in the morning with oatmeal, bread, jam, chocolate, and pizza making up the meal. Also served was the Tuvan tea I described earlier. Full and feeling quite warm from the tea, I decided to set out for a short walk around the neighborhood before I headed to a local school to chat with the students. The sight that my eyes beheld once I stepped outside was just as majestic as the stars that shone the night before above me. Mountains surround the village on all sides and are well within walking distance. This time I did not succeed in making it out to them, but on my next trip (which will happen in the spring), I plan on walking in those mountains. The village is small and everyone lives in one-story houses. The Russian Federation I am accustomed to is full of apartment buildings, of course, people here do live in houses, but I had personally never been in a place, where there were more houses than apartments.

The house we stayed in for the weekend.

Coming into Kyzyl was like entering a different world, coming to Telli felt like entering a world deeper within the one I already found myself. Within the actual village, there are altogether few roads and among those even fewer paved ones. That day I went out to walk, there was a scattering of people moving across the snow-covered landscape. I added my movement to theirs and began walking in-between the houses. The "other-world" feeling intensified as those people I passed gave me quizzical looks. In these areas, Russians are even fewer than in Kyzyl, so any European face stands out. Add my very German/Scandinavian face and I became even more of a sight in such a small town. As I made my way through the neighborhood, I could not help but feel an odd sense of a clash of cultures.

A monument commemorating the 90th anniversary of the
founding of the Tuvan People's Republic.

This was not the first time I had experienced such a feeling in Tyva. Indeed, the whole republic is a crossroads of peoples. Kyzyl is a city that was founded by Russians, yet today is inhabited by a majority of Tuvans. In many ways it makes sense that in the capital, there is more Russian-ness. Telli however is a Tuvan village, supposedly founded in the days when the Chinese Empire ruled the land (1800s). Therefore seeing Russian influence here is quite different than in Kyzyl. There are reminders everywhere that Tyva has only been in the Russian sphere of influence for 100 years. Russian and Tyva are seem as partners instead of one and the same entity. In Telli this is even more evident than in Kyzyl, as the locals continue on as they have for generations. Staunch communists here did not cast aside their nomadic traditions and forsake their native tongue. Russian is used as needed, but Tuvan rules the day.

I could not however spend my whole day walking. I had an appointment at one of the local schools. I met the English teachers, sitting down for tea and treats. Then I was shown into a large classroom with around thirty students eagerly awaiting the arrival of "the American." Questions were posed back and forth. I showed pictures of "My America" and talked about my life there. They shared about themselves and their home. It was a firsts for them in two ways. First off, I was the first American they had ever met and secondly, I was the first native English speaker they had ever met. For them learning English is such a remote location, it was a spark for me to be there with them. For many years they have been taught English, told that they should learn it, but what for? With little practical application, it is hard to teach a foreign language. Their teachers though do an excellent job at giving the students practical applications for  the language. My time with them was just a part of their greater work.

Overall it was a fun meeting. They were surprised when I showed them my American cell phone and asked why I did not have an Iphone. I brought with me various souvenirs of American life: greeting cards, money, passport, driver's license, etc. At the end of the lesson, I decided to hand out the coins that I had as mementos for the students. Everyone got either a penny, nickel, quarter, or dime. As I left the school to walk back to the house where I was staying, I was stopped on the street by a group of 6th graders, who asked where I was from and why I was in Telli. We chatted, while they ran around me and asked all sorts of questions. Then as we parted I handed them all coins. Luckily, I had just enough.

The rest of my stay was spent resting, eating, and chatting lively with my hosts and friends. The cow was by then almost chopped up and the meat divided up between the families. The original plan was to stay until Sunday morning, but the plans changed we decided to leave Saturday evening instead. Gathering around the kitchen table one last time, we shared a very filling meal before heading out on the road.


I stepped out of the house to enjoy the final moments of quiet and to see the stars as they began to appear in the sky. Around us stood majestic mountains, visible only by their silhouettes in the sunset. It was so calming. It was also a chance to stretch my legs before we all crammed back into the car. For the return trip, we were joined by my colleague's father-in-law, who was going to Kyzyl to help his daughter with some things. We left as night darkness descended upon the land, five souls crammed into the car.

 We made the trip back a bit quicker than five hours. By 11 PM, I was once again in my room, stretching and warming myself up. Bai-Taiga awaits my return.

Tyva: Russia Beyond the Mountains

Hello!

    I was recently asked by my colleagues in the English department to write a piece on my impressions of Tyva. I would like to share it with you below. I drew some of the material from my previous post, so this may sound familiar to many of you already.

Now, the window here is not the best for viewing, so I would recommend downloading the file and reading it like at. You may download it by either:
1. Clicking on "Fail" and selecting "Download"
2. Or by using the command "ctrl + s"

I hope you enjoy the article!

All the best,

Joey

A Month of Silence: Musings

Dear readers,

     It has been exactly a month since my last post. I apologize for the silence. I would offer excuses, but there are none that really justify my silence. A week past and November approached and all the while I sat without a topic to write about on the blog. I panicked and thought the next week would bring inspiration, but alas none was to be found. So that is how the last four weeks passed without as much as a note reassuring you of my existence. I am alive and doing well. Work has increased and as a result I find myself tired at the end of every week, but that is a sign of good, hard work. Teaching is my main occupation here, but that is not the only focus of my energy. In addition to working with students and teachers to increase the level of English proficiency at Tuvan State University, I am involved in the active effort of providing opportunities for our students and teachers to travel abroad, in order to study or work and thus raise their language proficiency (in English or any other language) and increase their experience with which they will return and share with others here. Likewise, we are engaged in efforts to bring foreign scholars to TuvSU.

One tangible product of these efforts has been updates made to the website of the Center of International Relations. At the moment, we only have a Russian language version, so for those who don't know Russian (learn it!), you can admire at least the visual layout: http://www.ms.tuvsu.ru/?q=node/48#overlay-context=node/46%3Fq%3Dnode/46
Click on the links and explore! This page and the linked pages were created by me. The focus is on study and work abroad for students and employees of TuvSU.

Для тех, кто умеет читать по-русски, я понмаю, что там есть МНОГО ошибок. Прошу Ваше терпение. Всё исправлю скоро. :-)

And now time for a shameless plug! If you or anyone you know are interested in studying/working at or visiting TuvSU, let me know!

In addition to work, I've been spent a lot of time thinking. My walk to the main campus and my marshrutka ride (recounted here for those who missed it) offer me plenty of time to muse over plenty of themes. Below, I offer them to you as means of sharing some perspective on this small part of the world and also for you to think about in your own ways.

Tyva: Russia beyond the Mountains
Some of you may have noticed that there are two methods of spelling "Tyva". The reason for this stems from the spelling of the name of the republic in Russian versus the Tuvan spelling. In Russian, it is usually spelled "Тува" (pronounced "Tuva"). The "у" sound in Russian is commonly transcribed into English as "u". In Tuvan however, it is spelled "Тыва" (pronounced "Ty(ee)va). The "ы" sound commonly being transcribed as "y". Both are correct, but I prefer the native spelling to that of the Russian. I arrived here about two months ago knowing absolutely nothing about this place, besides throat singing and that it was not connected to any city by rail. Two months later and I still know regrettably little, but I have ever so slightly began to expand by knowledge of Tyva.

This land is very rich in what it has experienced throughout history. Tyva is a place that still "remembers" to an extent, the Mongols of old, those that rode across the known world, conquering everything and only barely being stopped on the edges of Europe. Chingis is still a popular name here in Tyva (as in Chingis Khan) and the traditions of the Mongols are not that far removed from those of the Tuvans. Indeed, we must remember that our contemporary conception of the world is made up in the sense that borders are drawn and easily erased. Tuvans are found in Mongolia as well, so it is very likely that among the armies that flew across the steppes and conquered the Rus' were quite a few Tuvans. Going back even further, there is evidence that some Tuvans are related to the early peoples of the Americas. I have even seen several people here who have the same facial makeup of our First Nation Peoples. This place is a crossroads of cultures and that remains true to this day. Walking along the streets and teaching in the university, I observe the mix of Russian and Tuvan and western and eastern language, culture, and mentalities. And yet despite this mix, Tyva has succeeded in preserving its uniqueness even into the 21st century. The reason for this lies both in the geography and the history of the region.

How Tyva became a part of Russia is an interesting story. The Russians began moving into what is now Siberia early on after the defeat of the Mongols. Towns were founded and colonists sent forth to this new land. Wars and ambition in the west, slowed down the growth and expansion in the east. Taming the Caucasus also became a priority of the government as did defeating the Turks (approximately from 1703 to the 1850s). This allowed the Chinese some chance to also move north and take control of Mongolia and Tyva. In Tyva especially from what I understand, the Chinese hold on the territory wasn't especially strong, but in any case it kept the Russians from just waltzing in, at least until ambitions in the west were halted. Russia lost the Crimean War and with it any more opportunity to take more land from the Turks, halting advances to the west. Furthermore, the Caucasus were tamed. Being blocked to the north, west, and south, the empire set its sights to the east (and south east). In what is referred to as "The Great Game", the Russians little by little moved southeast through Central Asia, bringing "the stans" into the confines of the empire. Likewise, eastward expansion was viewed as a necessity into Asia. Tyva comes into the story as the leaders of Russia saw the Chinese and Japanese as competitors in the region. Eventually, this led to a war with Japan (which the Russians lost) and the establishment of a protectorate in Tyva. The Chinese were evicted and Russians started moving in to set up shop. It was already the beginning of the 20th century at this point. The Trans-Siberian Railroad was complete, but the nearest stop was many, many miles from Tyva. Furthermore, events in the west (a world war as well as poverty and discontent) prevented a flood of new arrivals from settling down. Also, there was quite a large population of natives already present. After the revolution and civil war, Tyva refrained from joining the Soviet Union and instead created its own republic (the Tuvan People's Republic). The Soviet Union of course maintained a strong influence on Tyva, especially in terms of foreign relations, but the Tuvans handled domestic affairs. This included the preservation of the native language of Tuvan, with some changes being made, specially in terms of the writing system. Tyva did become a part of the Soviet Union (joining with the Russian part), but because of its late entrance into the game, Tuvan is spoken today as a native language and can be heard more often than Russian.

The remoteness of Tyva also plays its part in the uniqueness of the region. The mountains act as guardians of Tyva, keeping the outside world away. Of course, walls have two sides and vice versa, Tuvans also find themselves cut off from the outside world and do not travel that often. Yet the mountains are just as much an insulator as they are a barrier.

The point I am wanting to make here is that Tyva is a country within a country. This isn't "Russia", but the Russian Federation, a distinction we don't often make enough yet one that paints a more diverse picture of this country. I'll write a bit more on this topic in later posts.

The language infrastructure
I'm not sure if this term exists in language teaching, but I'm using it here to mean the infrastructure present in a given language for language study. Components include: print resources (books, magazines, etc), electronic resources (music, movies, websites), native speakers, and efficient teaching methods. The purpose of the Fulbright English Teaching Assistant program is to send grant recipients to places that I would describe as weak in language infrastructure. Despite the remoteness that I discussed in the previous section, Kyzyl has a sufficient amount of these resources except the native speaker. The rest of Tyva is a different story. Having not traveled around I cannot comment on the language structure of these places, but I can imagine they lack most of these resources.

However, I would still described the language infrastructure of Kyzyl as weak. I recently learned that the Internet only fully appeared in Tyva in 2005. At the present, access to the Internet is still limited and mostly acquired through cell phones. Wi-Fi networks are few and far between. Mobile access for computers can only be achieved through modems, yet even with these the service is not always the best. Computer access is also limited to those who can afford it. With so much material located on the Internet and in electronic form, students of foreign languages are lacking an important tool in their language acquisition. Furthermore, with the lack of native speakers in the region, the Internet is even more helpful as a means of interacting with native speakers and materials written for native speakers (known as authentic materials). The remoteness of the region plays a large part in this. In terms of teaching practices, there is also a lot to be learned and shared. Having interacted with teachers of English, I have noticed a trend that even those teachers who at one point commanded English with a high proficiency has lost a lot of English over the years due to the lack of contact with the target language. There is also the idea that a foreign language teacher will begin to speak at the level of the students they teach if they do not maintain practice at a higher level.

All of this paints a pretty dire picture of the language infrastructure, but the situation is by no means without a remedy. In fact, I actually see in all of this a lot of opportunities for those who are willing to put in the effort. Here are some of the things I wish to see done in terms of the English language infrastructure (but these ideas could be adapted to any language):

1. More native speakers. The university is committing itself to bringing in foreign scholars which in turn increases contact between Tyva and foreign institutions. If the common language between the locals and foreigners, then so much the better. To go even further, I would like to see the university hire at three native speakers to work in full-time positions for the academic year. On a broader scale, I would like to see a few more native speakers come here to work independently. In terms of paid teaching opportunities, many people are looking for private tutoring opportunities for all ages and there are also a few English language schools in Kyzyl. There is also an abundance of volunteer opportunities to supplement anyones time.

2. Send more students abroad. This issue has many sides to it. First off, there is the money factor. Studying abroad or travelling for an extended period of time requires a lot of money. The challenge then comes in finding ways to finance anyones trip abroad, not just those who can afford it. Secondly, we need to enable students to be competitive in the competitions for grants and scholarships, many of which require essays to be written in English or for the recipients to already command English as an adequately high level. This in turn ties into the presently inadequate language structure. Thirdly, the lack of Internet and computer access prevents students from having the resources to seek out and find the opportunities for study abroad and financing a trip abroad as well as filling out an online application.

3. Teacher training. It is very rare to meet a teacher here who has travelled to an English-speaking country. Furthermore, due to the lack of contact with native speakers, the language level of teacher suffers. The system of teaching in Russia both for foreign languages and in other subjects is also in need of some change. Sending teachers abroad as well as promoting the exchange of ideas between other teachers of foreign languages would go a long way in improving the language infrastructure here. Native speakers are very important, but they are usually not a permanent part of this equation. Local language teachers on the other hand are permanent fixtures in the community and should be trained so as to be as effective as possible.

I shall conclude my musings here with a promise to return to my weekly schedule of updates from Kyzyl. I hope you are doing well.

Peace be with you!


Joey

Кусочек Кызыла (A Piece of Kyzyl): The "Marshrutka"

Orientation is my number one task when I find myself in new environs. At first, this takes the form of much leg movement - exploring streets at random, peeking down alleys, and becoming acquainted with the layout of  a place by logging as many "foot miles" as possible. Then, as I slowly become braver with my mental map, I begin testing the local transportation system. Subways and trains are rather straightforward, as their maps are posted online and in the stations. Subway stops are located near well-known sights or buildings, making orientation simpler. Ground transportation (buses, streets cars, trolleybuses, etc) however presents more of a challenge. Their routes criss-cross the landscape seemingly at random. Hopping onto a bus for example, its easy to become disorientated with the twists and turns made as if at the will of some unseen puppeteer. And yet, the subway lines do not penetrate every corner of a city and in the case of Kyzyl, they don't even exist. The only options left are to walk, run, or grab a "marshrutka".

The word "marshrutka" (маршрутка) comes from the Russian word "marshrut'" or "route". The idea is that this vehicle follows a specific route. It is however not technically a work of public transportation. Marshrutki are owned by private companies or firms (I confess that I know little of the business management side of the marshrutka). They differ from their public transportation counterparts in that they are generally smaller, faster, and for a little bit higher of a fare than found on a public bus, you can hop on and off wherever you'd like along the route. Personally, I usually go for the public transportation option, but in Kyzyl, the buses are much slower and less frequently lumber about than in other cities. From what I've heard, this is because people prefer the much smaller marshrutki and have voted with their ruble to the detriment of the bus. Thus I too, following the example of the locals (when in Rome...), stick my arm out on the street curb to signal.

The conductor at her post.

What awaits a passenger once their marshrutka swerves to pick them up? There are to faces of the marshrutka - the driver, who you see to signal, and the conductor who opens the door at every stop, acts as the go-between for the driver and the passengers, and of course collects the fare (15 rubles in the case of Kyzyl). Inside every marshrutka, the layout is the same - you have the driver up front with two spots available for passengers, then backing up against the driver's seat is a row of seats for passengers. In front of these spots is a space for transit and standing (although to say you can stand is a bit of a stretch, as the ceilings are low), then a solitary seat, two seats, and in the very back are two pairs of seats positioned to face each other.

The back seats - either the best or worst place to sit.

 The rules for sitting are simple - everyone for themselves, except in the case of women and older people. Then, they are given the right of way. This courtesy is more or less adhered to. As much of a part of the "marshrutka experience" the first moments may be, it is the journey itself that defines the whole escapade. Backing up to the description of the vehicle, the specific name of this type of van is "Gazelle". I find this name quite appropriate in every respect, minus the part where predatory animals feed on the gazelle (I don't know if Fulbright's insurance would cover that...).

Just as the gazelle can burst ahead at speeds of 60 mph (thank you Wikipedia), our dear marshrutka quickly winds through traffic and deposits its passengers at any and all destinations. Furthermore, the gazelle is known to jump high. Keeping true to fashion, the marshrutka ride is known and even expected to be QUITE bumpy. This is not do however to hydraulics on the buses, but to the conditions of the roads here in the city and especially outside of the center. For you viewing pleasure and to demonstrate what I mean by bumpy, I direct your attention to the video below:

To clarify, I was only holding my camera - every shake both big and small is the result of the powers of physics working their magic on the marshrutka. The passenger is also at the will of the road as the only seat belts present are the ones holding the back doors together (appreciate the small things). The act of sitting is also something not to be taken lightly while riding. It is a constant game of knowing which side of your body to lean towards. Even the slightest miscalculation can send an unfortunate traveller in the wrong direction in the event of a sudden stop - of which there are many.

Such a task is even more complicated when there are no seats left to take and standing remains the only option. This brings us to the capacity of the marshrutka. Just as they can be related to the gazelle, I would also offer the bag of Mary Poppins as an adequate object of comparison. They may look small, but in fact quite a few people can fit into the salon of the "gazelle". Comfort is of course sacrificed at such a moment. As is safety perhaps. There are however few options but to cram in with the other passengers if you are in a hurry. This happened to me this past Sunday.

I had just finished a lovely hike around the opposing bank of the Yenisei when I needed to head back home. I waited at the bus stop and was very elated to see my marshrutka coming around the corner (it was getting dark and I needed to hurry back). My elation soon turned into an expression of "Ohh...." (with a decrescendo) when the conductor opened the door and all I could see was a wall of people. "Wait for the next one?" I asked myself. My answer came not from my own brain, but from the other people at the bus stop waiting with me. They were not perturbed at the slightest by the situation. One by one they lined up and somehow moved into the marshrutka. I followed suit, not wanting to be left behind. To say the least, we were quite friendly and I was happy that everyone smelled nice. To comment on safety though, ironically it was perhaps more safe with some many people as everyone cushioned one another and kept each other from fallen down during the sudden stops. In either case, I was happy when the first stop was reached and some people stepped out. I was not elated to see a line of people at the stop, waiting for us. I decided to hop off a few stops earlier than needed to enjoy some fresh air and to stretch my cramped legs.

I will admit though, that after the initial shock of being crammed into the bus, I could barely keep from laughing while we bumped back to the center of the city. It was such an experience really. Something to revel in despite perhaps the awkwardness of it all. All of us there were sharing in an experience together and no one really cared whether you were snugged up right next to them (arguably because they had no choice). It's a piece of comradeship and it's a piece of Kyzyl.

Кусочек Кызыла (A piece of Kyzyl): The Market

Walking along the main thoroughfare of Kyzyl (Ul. Kochetova), one immediately notices a steady stream of pedestrians and automobiles moving steadily down a particular side street. I stop and stare and find myself also drawn down that street, as if there is a mass of gravity, pulling anyone towards its center. What is this mysterious physical anomaly? It is in fact nothing that strange at all, it is the city market. But you are not aware of this fact quite yet. 

Continuing down the street with the other pedestrians, you notice that it is a one-way road, whether on purpose or just because, no one knows. You start seeing hints of a market – people have set up tables along the sidewalk selling clothes and accessories. There are piles of second hand clothing, neat rows of socks, and boxes of gloves. You glance at a distance, knowing that if you step too close, your curiosity could be mistaken for a desire to purchase something laid out on the table. Then comes a sign to your left: “City Markets”, this is the beginning of endless rows of tents and stalls.” Like a department store, the market is divided into different sections – food, clothing, hardware, goods for the house, etc. You glance past the sign and see only a tunnel, bordered on both sides by pantyhose dangling from clothesline, hats on racks, and suits and coats on hangers. You rush forward, not allowing yourself to be sucked into the tunnel.

The crowd thickens and the noise increases as cars, trucks, and people all attempt to cross the street. Your nose detects the scent of gasoline and local and foreign delicacies being made in small shacks and stalls. Food is the reason you’ve come today, but not this kind of food. Your goal is to the right a bit – the produce stands. Farmers and sellers stand behind and in front of stands full of an array of bright colors. Watermelons, peppers, carrots, potatoes, tomatoes, onions, beets, oranges, apples, mandarin oranges, and much more are available for purchase. But you aren’t fooled into thinking that each stand’s produce is identical. At a distance, you walk past each stand, noticing the price and the look of each item in turn. Back and forth you go, comparing prices and making note of the sellers from which you will buy.

The next items on your shopping list are meat and milk products. This requires you to step inside the large, metal structure behind the produce stands. Here you are greeted by the sights and smells of birds and beasts that are brought to the slaughter. Before your very eyes, chunks of meat are cut into pieces ready for sale. Beef, pork, and mutton are all available. In many respects, the meat here is used more efficiently. Russian and Tuvan cuisine still call for livers, hearts, fat, and various other parts of animals which we no longer use. The selection is quite large – there are ribs, wings, hind quarters, breasts, intestines, fat, livers, hearts, kidneys, bones. This is the meat department. Ringing it all are the dairy produce stands. Here you find cheeses, milk, yogurt, and the thick, Tuvan sour cream. People are rushing to and fro through narrow aisles. It is overwhelming at first, but you get your bearings. You are sliding past the customers, eyeing prices of meats side by side and comparing them in your head. Sucked into the middle of it all, you do not notice the hustle and bustle around you. That is when you stop and step back and admire it all. Hundreds of people are in here, making connections and building relationships with the people behind the counters. You aren't necessarily going to the stand with the cheapest goods, but to the person you trust and know who is selling you the goods. After you buy each piece of meat or some sour cream or a salad, the person says “Come again!” This isn't just a formality but a sincere request. It is an invitation.

With you bags full of everything you had on your list (plus a little extra), you set off back home. The crowds thin out as you fight against the pull towards the market. Soon, you are back on the main street and back in a different world.