Every now and then something happens that makes me think, "If I ever leave Kazakhstan, it won't be because of the -40 degree winters, it will be because of this..." Having heat that is controlled by someone other than me is one of those issues. (They don't turn on the heat until a certain date, regardless of how cold it gets!) Water problems is another.
As far as I can tell, everyone living in Astana can expect to have water issues, regardless of who they are or where they live. Your water will get turned off at least once a year, for a minimum of one day, a maximum of who knows? You will wake up one day to no hot water, only cold (and ice-cold at that), and, again, this will happen at least once a year for at least one day. If you are insanely lucky whoever's in charge will time it so that this happens while you are at work. I've only met one person who's been so lucky, and she hasn't lived at her current apartment for long. So maybe her luck will be short-lived.
If you live in Astana, you may possibly find one day that you don't have COLD water. I have no idea how they manage to do that.
And, of course, the water coming from your tap will not always be clear or mostly clear. It may be brown. It may be neon yellow.
Usually, if it's brown, just run it a bit and then it'll be okay. But sometimes it'll last long enough to be incredibly annoying.
One afternoon, I noticed that the toilet water was brown. That didn't phase me, whatever, it's just there for flushing. I didn't think about it until I tried to do the dishes--the kitchen water was brown. I let the water run for a long time. Still brown.
Then my load of laundry finished. As soon as I'd come home from work, I'd put in a load of whites. Yes, whites. They came out brown.
So I was unable to wash the dishes and now I had a bunch of brown clothes. Lovely.
I posted my misery on facebook, only to have the principal's wife respond that once, her water was neon yellow. Somehow, brown seems better than that.
The next morning, my water was thankfully back to normal & I could take a shower. Earlier this year I had found bleach (labeled 'bleach' in English) and that worked to fix my whites. So resourcefulness, laziness, and patience solved this problem. (Yes, laziness helped--after a few moments of distress about not being able to wash the dishes, I settled into laziness & didn't wash the dishes.)
Yesterday morning I woke up to no hot water. I'm used to this by now. Sometimes, I just have to let the water run for longer. Sometimes, I have to boil water in my kettle or on the stove and take a sponge bath of sorts (I don't have a bathtub). I was running late yesterday, so I took a cold shower. I told myself I could live through this, but it was ice-cold! (But, yes, I did apparently live through it.)
Yesterday evening I still had no hot water, and this time resourcefulness kicked in and I boiled water for washing dishes. This morning I was prepared and not running late so I boiled water on the stove for my sponge bath-shower.
This morning I talked to the school secretary (who handles all our housing issues, amongst other things). She recently married a co-worker and they both moved into my building, which is wonderful for me, because it means that if I'm experiencing distress over water issues, so is she. She can sympathize. And she had already called about the lack of hot water, and had been told that it should be fixed today.
This afternoon I came home and had hot water! (Along with cold, of course--the good, ol' fashioned choice--hot? or cold? or something in between?)
But my refrigerator wasn't working.
Argh!!!
But that's for another post...
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Monday, May 16, 2011
Mothers' Day
For Mothers' Day, two friends and I went out to eat at a fancy French restaurant, Regine, located near Beiterek, the funky tower in the new downtown.
Kazakhs celebrate Mothers' Day as part of International Women's Day on March 8, and when I planned our dinner for Sunday, May 8, I wasn't thinking about Mothers' Day. But it worked out great, as my two friends and I are all single mothers-- it was our Mothers' Day treat to ourselves.
Sophia stayed home with my assistant (her favorite babysitter) and my friend's daughter.
We first took a cab to a French restaurant located in the middle of the huge Central Park. We got out of the cab in front of this fancy building that looked more like a mansion near Versailles than a restaurant. We had our picture taken on the red carpet leading up the stairs to the main entrance. Then we were informed that it was closed due to a private party.
We were in the middle of the park, wearing heels. Nowhere near a road. Oh dear.
So we trekked back to the main road, where we hailed a cab and went to Regine's, which was open. It's located on the 4th floor in a business/shopping complex. Above it is a night-club, Jimmy's, owned by Regine's.
We were the ONLY people there the entire time, and we stayed for over 3 hours. Yes, it was a Sunday night, but it was a holiday, because the next day was Victory Day.
But we quite enjoyed having the entire restaurant to ourselves. We sat near the window--overlooking Beiterek Tower and the fancy, funky buildings of downtown Astana, watching the sun set.
The restaurant was by far the fanciest restaurant I've ever been to, but it wasn't too expensive. You could order a la carte, or order a 4-course meal, and they had three choices for the 4-course meal--a 6000 Tenge ($40) option, an 8000 Tenge option, and a 10,000 Tenge option. The most expensive included foie gras, which I really didn't want anyways.
I ordered the 6000 Tenge meal--a salad with goat cheese, French onion soup, chicken in red wine sauce, and creme caramel for dessert.
We ordered the cheapest bottle of white wine, around 7200 Tenge. The waiter brought it out and showed it to us, and had one of us sample it before he poured our glasses. Throughout the evening he made certain that our water and wine glasses never dropped below halfway full.
He also put on white gloves to change our silverware between courses, so we would only have the utensils needed for each course.
The salad was the best part of the meal, the goat cheese melted in my mouth, and the whole thing was utterly divine. It also started to fill me up so by the time I got to the main course, the chicken, I was quite full.
But the creme caramel was so delicious I had to ignore my bursting stomach just to eat it.
After eating, we took our pictures in front of some of the paintings hanging on the wall.
It was an excellent meal, fun to have an entire restaurant to ourselves, and nice to have an evening without children.
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Seasons in Astana
I've lived in South Carolina, New Orleans, and Paris. South Carolina & Paris have 4 seasons--they have fall with pretty colors, winter with cold-ish weather, spring with flowers, and summer with hot, sunny days. South Carolina's seasons are a bit more pronounced, with a bit of snow in the winter.
New Orleans doesn't really have seasons, although the winter is less hot than the summer and rainier. It's also "tourist" season.
But in Astana the seasons are more marked than in any other place I've lived. It's amazing. The difference between winter and summer is extreme. I really feel like there are two Astanas, two separate places where I live. There's the winter Astana--blanketed by white, void of greenery, frequently dark, yet bright and shiny when the sun's up. And there's the summer Astana--colorful, green, hot, frequently light, a very pleasant place to take a walk or ride a bike.
Astana just looks so incredibly different now than it did mere months ago.
Astana has two main seasons--winter and spring/summer--and two lesser seasons--autumn and the first part of spring. Autumn is painfully short--one week it's alternating between summer temperatures and colder temperatures, the next week there's snow on the ground.
The first part of spring is perhaps the worst season--the snow melts and the city is covered in slush and mud and water. Icky. But that lasts maybe a month at most and suddenly you're in glorious, beautiful spring! The two springs don't really belong together as one season, they're so different.
And then, for several months, you have spring and summer--longer days, clear blue skies, bright sun, wind... It's May now and still cool enough for a light jacket and/or sweater, with some days warm enough for short sleeves and shorts. I know that in the summer it'll get hot, up to 40 degrees Celsius. And the city will be blanketed in bright flowers.
Then it will get cooler, days shorter--a swift autumn and then winter again. White again. A whole new city. The cycle continues.
Photos: Fall, Winter, Spring, Summer
New Orleans doesn't really have seasons, although the winter is less hot than the summer and rainier. It's also "tourist" season.
But in Astana the seasons are more marked than in any other place I've lived. It's amazing. The difference between winter and summer is extreme. I really feel like there are two Astanas, two separate places where I live. There's the winter Astana--blanketed by white, void of greenery, frequently dark, yet bright and shiny when the sun's up. And there's the summer Astana--colorful, green, hot, frequently light, a very pleasant place to take a walk or ride a bike.
Astana just looks so incredibly different now than it did mere months ago.
Astana has two main seasons--winter and spring/summer--and two lesser seasons--autumn and the first part of spring. Autumn is painfully short--one week it's alternating between summer temperatures and colder temperatures, the next week there's snow on the ground.
The first part of spring is perhaps the worst season--the snow melts and the city is covered in slush and mud and water. Icky. But that lasts maybe a month at most and suddenly you're in glorious, beautiful spring! The two springs don't really belong together as one season, they're so different.
And then, for several months, you have spring and summer--longer days, clear blue skies, bright sun, wind... It's May now and still cool enough for a light jacket and/or sweater, with some days warm enough for short sleeves and shorts. I know that in the summer it'll get hot, up to 40 degrees Celsius. And the city will be blanketed in bright flowers.
Then it will get cooler, days shorter--a swift autumn and then winter again. White again. A whole new city. The cycle continues.
Photos: Fall, Winter, Spring, Summer
Khan Shatyr - The Beach
So I promised Sophia that I would take her to the infamous beach at Khan Shatyr at least once. I told her she had to find a friend whose parents would not mind paying the entrance free. Last I'd checked, the entrance fee was 8000 Tenge ($55) for adults and 4000 Tenge for kids.
She found a friend in the 9-year old class, a Kazakh born in Uzbekistan who spent most her life in California. We arranged to meet at Khan Shatyr at noon.
The entrance fee had lowered since September, and I only paid 7500 Tenge for the both of us. Not bad. A sign said that there was a 10000 Tenge fine for bringing in your own food or drinks.
We changed in a locker room, locked our stuff in lockers, and then went up to the main area. First, we went to the pool to our left--a somewhat large, shallow looking pool, surrounded by sand and beach lounge chairs. I recognized a kid from Sophia's class and talked a bit to his parents. They come every Saturday, they said, but try to come early because sometimes it gets crowded. The husband likes to do laps in the pool.
Then I learned that the pool was about 5 feet deep--not too deep, but not too shallow either. Sophia's friend's mother had asked that she only go in water in which she can stand with her head above the water. Astana has few, if any lifeguards, and this place had none, and I wasn't about to risk someone else's life, however slim the chance. So we got up and went to the other pool.
The pool at the base of the water slides is for the water slides only, but there is another pool behind it, one that gets 3 feet at most, and has waves at times. This was where the kids were. I relaxed in a lounge chair while they played.
At one point we got up to get a drink. I gave them 1000 Tenge (about $6.50) and said to get 2 sodas while I went to the bathroom. When I came back, I was quite surprised to learn that I hadn't given them enough for 2 sodas! So I made them share one soda.
We also got a pizza, and we ended up staying for 5 hours. They had a blast, and I was happy that I didn't have to get in the water.
In the slightly-deeper pool, there was this big plastic bubble, looking a bit like the kind of ball a hamster runs around in, and for 500 Tenge you could get in it and float across the water. Kind of odd.
So... a good day, and of course Sophia wants to go again. I keep hoping somebody will invite her...
See this September post for my description of Khan Shatyr.
She found a friend in the 9-year old class, a Kazakh born in Uzbekistan who spent most her life in California. We arranged to meet at Khan Shatyr at noon.
The entrance fee had lowered since September, and I only paid 7500 Tenge for the both of us. Not bad. A sign said that there was a 10000 Tenge fine for bringing in your own food or drinks.
We changed in a locker room, locked our stuff in lockers, and then went up to the main area. First, we went to the pool to our left--a somewhat large, shallow looking pool, surrounded by sand and beach lounge chairs. I recognized a kid from Sophia's class and talked a bit to his parents. They come every Saturday, they said, but try to come early because sometimes it gets crowded. The husband likes to do laps in the pool.
Then I learned that the pool was about 5 feet deep--not too deep, but not too shallow either. Sophia's friend's mother had asked that she only go in water in which she can stand with her head above the water. Astana has few, if any lifeguards, and this place had none, and I wasn't about to risk someone else's life, however slim the chance. So we got up and went to the other pool.
The pool at the base of the water slides is for the water slides only, but there is another pool behind it, one that gets 3 feet at most, and has waves at times. This was where the kids were. I relaxed in a lounge chair while they played.
At one point we got up to get a drink. I gave them 1000 Tenge (about $6.50) and said to get 2 sodas while I went to the bathroom. When I came back, I was quite surprised to learn that I hadn't given them enough for 2 sodas! So I made them share one soda.
We also got a pizza, and we ended up staying for 5 hours. They had a blast, and I was happy that I didn't have to get in the water.
In the slightly-deeper pool, there was this big plastic bubble, looking a bit like the kind of ball a hamster runs around in, and for 500 Tenge you could get in it and float across the water. Kind of odd.
So... a good day, and of course Sophia wants to go again. I keep hoping somebody will invite her...
See this September post for my description of Khan Shatyr.
Thursday, May 12, 2011
Happy Easter!
Good Friday and Earth Day coincided this year, and so I spent the first part of the day picking up trash with the upper elementary kids, and the second half of the day celebrating Easter.
Yes, Easter is a religious holiday, but it has so many secular traditions that are quite fun for elementary kids.
I tried explaining what we were going to do, to my group of 3 extremely-low-English 6-year-olds. I did my best to use simple words, to speak clearly, etc. But after my short speech, my Pakistani boy, said, completely confused, "What is this, egg?" Ok, so he didn't get it. Not yet.
The three afternoon activities were egg-dying, egg-hunting, and cookie-decorating. The principal's wife (and 3rd grade teacher) did such a marvelous job of planning the whole thing that I made lots of mental notes in my head, in case I end up doing it next year. (They're leaving, and I'm not sure who'll take charge of events like this one.)
We didn't have that many plastic eggs--you find those in Kazakhstan by eating Kinder-eggs (chocolate eggs with mini-plastic-eggs filled with cheap plastic toys). We had about 100, and the students were divided into 3 groups of about 20 - 30 kids each. They were told they could only find 3 to 4 eggs, then they had to turn the eggs in for a bag of candy. Then they had to re-hide the eggs for the next group. It worked well, I think, and the kids loved hiding the eggs.
On Sunday, my daughter went to church with her best friend (my friend's daughter). While they were at church, I hid the eggs in our apartment.
It turns out that Sophia's friend and my friend, both Kazakhs, had never heard of an egg hunt before! They were confused when I invited them over for an egg hunt. But Sophia's friend was quite excited once she figured it out, and she loved it very much.
I learned later that Russians have "egg fights" instead of egg hunts. Two people tap their eggs together until one cracks. The person whose egg does not crack is the winner and wins the other eggs.
Traditions are fun and I love learning new ones! I really, really would love to one day celebrate Holi at our school! (I know little about it, but it's an Indian holiday that involves throwing something like paint at other people, so that everyone ends up very colorful.)
Yes, Easter is a religious holiday, but it has so many secular traditions that are quite fun for elementary kids.
I tried explaining what we were going to do, to my group of 3 extremely-low-English 6-year-olds. I did my best to use simple words, to speak clearly, etc. But after my short speech, my Pakistani boy, said, completely confused, "What is this, egg?" Ok, so he didn't get it. Not yet.
The three afternoon activities were egg-dying, egg-hunting, and cookie-decorating. The principal's wife (and 3rd grade teacher) did such a marvelous job of planning the whole thing that I made lots of mental notes in my head, in case I end up doing it next year. (They're leaving, and I'm not sure who'll take charge of events like this one.)
We didn't have that many plastic eggs--you find those in Kazakhstan by eating Kinder-eggs (chocolate eggs with mini-plastic-eggs filled with cheap plastic toys). We had about 100, and the students were divided into 3 groups of about 20 - 30 kids each. They were told they could only find 3 to 4 eggs, then they had to turn the eggs in for a bag of candy. Then they had to re-hide the eggs for the next group. It worked well, I think, and the kids loved hiding the eggs.
On Sunday, my daughter went to church with her best friend (my friend's daughter). While they were at church, I hid the eggs in our apartment.
It turns out that Sophia's friend and my friend, both Kazakhs, had never heard of an egg hunt before! They were confused when I invited them over for an egg hunt. But Sophia's friend was quite excited once she figured it out, and she loved it very much.
I learned later that Russians have "egg fights" instead of egg hunts. Two people tap their eggs together until one cracks. The person whose egg does not crack is the winner and wins the other eggs.
Traditions are fun and I love learning new ones! I really, really would love to one day celebrate Holi at our school! (I know little about it, but it's an Indian holiday that involves throwing something like paint at other people, so that everyone ends up very colorful.)
My Landlords are Crazy
... and apparently, that's somewhat normal. Although I suspect that the US has its fair share of crazy landlords.
Over Christmas break, they came into my home--they replaced some lightbulbs, fixed the faucet on the sink, and left me some chocolates, so I can't complain. They had told the secretary, but during that time things were very hectic for her and she forgot to tell me. So I found out some months later, and when I went to ask her about my landlords in my house when I wasn't there, she said that, yes, they had asked, but her reaction was--she couldn't say no, could she? It's their home, so of course they can come in. When I said something to the registrar (secretary of sorts), her reaction was--that's why she always changes the locks when she rents, so the landlords can't get in.
I know in the US they're not allowed in without permission. It's not a matter of, it's their home, so they can do whatever they want.
Anyways, as I said, they were nice, so although it unnerved me a bit, it was okay. If you want to come in without telling me and change my lightbulbs, I won't complain.
But then, the landlord was in town and wanted to come over when I had a translator. So we arranged for my aide to meet us at my place.
Then he told her that he and his wife were moving back to Astana, and they have nothing in their new home, so they'd like to take some stuff from here.
This place had come with a ton of stuff, more than I need, but I had been under the impression that everything in here was for my use.
They went through cabinets and cupboards, asking about so many things, emphasizing that they wouldn't take anything I used, but asking about everything. Some things I don't mind--there are cabinets that are so high I've never looked in them, so I can't complain if I lost something I didn't know I had. But I was racking my brain, trying to think about how many blankets we used, and which sheets were regularly used, so they could take everything else.
Then the landlady went through the pots and pans and bowls and spoons... Seriously? You can't just buy yourself some more silverware, you have to rummage through the stuff you left for your tenant?
And it was so awkward. What is my right to this stuff? It's not mine. Do I feel sorry for her and offer her everything, or do I feel selfish and claim the stuff as mine, as long as I'm living here?
And why hadn't they told the secretary their reason for coming? It just took me so much by surprise that they wanted their stuff!!
But they left, I cooled down, I still have too much stuff... Then about a month or two later, they came back. This time the secretary was there, and the landlord and his grandson went around the house and asked permission to take various--mostly boxes that were stored on the porch, so of course I didn't mind.
The secretary left to go cook dinner, and we waited for an hour for the landlady to show up. I thought they had already picked out what they wanted, but then she went through the kitchen.
The first time, I felt sorry for them--moving back to Astana, having no stuff in their new apartment. But now they'd had months to buy things, or bring things from Almaty. And she'd already gone through all the kitchen stuff! I thought she'd taken what she'd needed the first time.
She looked at my pots--do I need these? Yes, I said. So she pointed to each individual one and asked, this one? Until finally I let her have one.
But I was stubborn when it came to my spoons. We use spoons a lot, she'd already taken several last time, and she said she only would take what I didn't use, and I use those spoons! (And, again, seriously? She hadn't gone out and bought extra spoons during the two months between her visits to me?)
Again, in hindsight it's not a big deal. I still have plenty of stuff and I was never promised 6 spoons or whatever. Last year I had very little, and at least one co-worker here has little stuff in her kitchen. But I've used this stuff for a year, and it was nice to think that if ever I decide to have guests over, I have enough plates, bowls, glasses, silverware, etc, to serve them, and enough pots and pans to cook for them, and enough blankets to keep them warm should they spend the night.
And it's just SO ODD!!!
Over Christmas break, they came into my home--they replaced some lightbulbs, fixed the faucet on the sink, and left me some chocolates, so I can't complain. They had told the secretary, but during that time things were very hectic for her and she forgot to tell me. So I found out some months later, and when I went to ask her about my landlords in my house when I wasn't there, she said that, yes, they had asked, but her reaction was--she couldn't say no, could she? It's their home, so of course they can come in. When I said something to the registrar (secretary of sorts), her reaction was--that's why she always changes the locks when she rents, so the landlords can't get in.
I know in the US they're not allowed in without permission. It's not a matter of, it's their home, so they can do whatever they want.
Anyways, as I said, they were nice, so although it unnerved me a bit, it was okay. If you want to come in without telling me and change my lightbulbs, I won't complain.
But then, the landlord was in town and wanted to come over when I had a translator. So we arranged for my aide to meet us at my place.
Then he told her that he and his wife were moving back to Astana, and they have nothing in their new home, so they'd like to take some stuff from here.
This place had come with a ton of stuff, more than I need, but I had been under the impression that everything in here was for my use.
They went through cabinets and cupboards, asking about so many things, emphasizing that they wouldn't take anything I used, but asking about everything. Some things I don't mind--there are cabinets that are so high I've never looked in them, so I can't complain if I lost something I didn't know I had. But I was racking my brain, trying to think about how many blankets we used, and which sheets were regularly used, so they could take everything else.
Then the landlady went through the pots and pans and bowls and spoons... Seriously? You can't just buy yourself some more silverware, you have to rummage through the stuff you left for your tenant?
And it was so awkward. What is my right to this stuff? It's not mine. Do I feel sorry for her and offer her everything, or do I feel selfish and claim the stuff as mine, as long as I'm living here?
And why hadn't they told the secretary their reason for coming? It just took me so much by surprise that they wanted their stuff!!
But they left, I cooled down, I still have too much stuff... Then about a month or two later, they came back. This time the secretary was there, and the landlord and his grandson went around the house and asked permission to take various--mostly boxes that were stored on the porch, so of course I didn't mind.
The secretary left to go cook dinner, and we waited for an hour for the landlady to show up. I thought they had already picked out what they wanted, but then she went through the kitchen.
The first time, I felt sorry for them--moving back to Astana, having no stuff in their new apartment. But now they'd had months to buy things, or bring things from Almaty. And she'd already gone through all the kitchen stuff! I thought she'd taken what she'd needed the first time.
She looked at my pots--do I need these? Yes, I said. So she pointed to each individual one and asked, this one? Until finally I let her have one.
But I was stubborn when it came to my spoons. We use spoons a lot, she'd already taken several last time, and she said she only would take what I didn't use, and I use those spoons! (And, again, seriously? She hadn't gone out and bought extra spoons during the two months between her visits to me?)
Again, in hindsight it's not a big deal. I still have plenty of stuff and I was never promised 6 spoons or whatever. Last year I had very little, and at least one co-worker here has little stuff in her kitchen. But I've used this stuff for a year, and it was nice to think that if ever I decide to have guests over, I have enough plates, bowls, glasses, silverware, etc, to serve them, and enough pots and pans to cook for them, and enough blankets to keep them warm should they spend the night.
And it's just SO ODD!!!
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