Happy Men's Day!

“What’s Men’s Day”? you might ask. I’m not exactly sure myself, but I know it gets me out of my classroom and into Jalalbat for the day. Half class yesterday and no class today, the Kyrgyz don’t screw around when it comes to holidays, even if the holiday is an obscure holdover from the Soviet era. I’m told that this is the first year that school was canceled for MD, but after all, this year marks the 60th anniversary of the end of WWII. So MD is more of a Memorial Day of sorts. A day to remember the thousands of heroes who bravely fought for democracy in the 1940’s, of those thousands probably 12 of whom were actually Kyrgyz. No, that’s not fair. I have no knowledge whatsoever of Kyrgyz involvement in WWII and shouldn’t poke fun. As far as I know they turned the tide of war and are responsible for the freedoms that we all now enjoy.

So I’m in the city for the day and it looks to actually be a nice day. It’s been hot here (I’m wearing three layers instead of four. Whew! When will this heat wave end!). It’s actually been a great week, made greater by the fact that I am barely teaching this week. Monday I allowed some teachers to persuade me to skip my afternoon course in favor of lunch and shots of brandy in a local café. This is how things work here. If a teacher doesn’t want to teach, they skip. Having a few shots of vodka during lunch is not unheard of. This is, however, the first time I have let them talk me into ditching class. But, come on, it’s two days before Men’s Day! It’s justified! My 11th grade students took a cue from the teachers and skipped their class as well and threw their own party in the same café. I asked them why they were celebrating on Monday when MD was on Wednesday, to which they replied: ”But we don’t have class on Wednesday, a party today means we get to miss class…”

So no class today, and after my morning class tomorrow I’m hopping on a mildly well put together airplane and flying to Bishkek, lovingly known as the ‘kek. Good food, expensive drinks in real bars, and tons of stories from northern volunteers. It’s going to be great as long as my airplane’s wings remain attached during the flight...Should be a fun time.

Quickly. I got a haircut this week from my friends, the un-understandable Uzbek kids. During the haircut, the assistant kid, probably 16 or so, donned a Muslim prayer hat (see: Yarmulke) and poured me a cup of water. He told me to drink it and said it was water from Haji, or religious pilgrimage. I drank the water and Ailey, who was with me, also drank some. We wondered later if it was safe to drink, and if the possible parasites it contained were holy. The kids then asked if I studied or had been to the local Mosque. Saying that I didn't understand (which wasn't far from the truth) I kept silent. I really don't like to discuss religion when someone is holding a pair of scisors a few inches from my head.

Ok, that’s the latest. Now, I’m off to sip coffee and read all day at Terry’s. Talk to you later.