Farewell Rossiya!

in less than 12 hours, my plane shall become airborne, and leave the wonderful world of Siberia behind! While I've had my fair share of ups & downs this summer (which I've done a positively lousy job of documenting here- I know, I know; I'll hopefully finish some of my saved draft adventures from afar), all in all, I can really say that I'm sad to go. I might not have been as "productive" in the concrete sense of the word, but the perspective I've gained, the connections I've made and the ideas of come up with have made it all worthwhile and highly educational, despite the thorough lack of overhead structure to my time. Admittedly, those organizations and individuals I learned most from often weren't those I'd expected, and vice-versa. In fact, I really feel like I have a lot of advice and plans to offer GBT to improve the organization as a whole...whether they listen to me/hear me at all through the bureaucratic web is another story, which frankly I'd like to save for another time. I'm not a professional biologist, or a certified wilderness guide- never claim to be. However, being here this summer has helped illuminate my background in international group-work facilitation and strategy (who'd ever thunk IOB class would come in handy, too?), finding ways to help the organization expand on its overarching goals, and allow each individual to have the most meaningful, wonderful and memorable experience with GBT that's possible.
I don't intend to brag- honestly. I don't possess any particular innate characteristics that make me better at this sort of work than anybody else- far from it. All in all, it's just a reflection of probably the most significant thing grad school has taught me: take initiative! Hanging back in the corner won't kill you, but it generally won't get you anywhere interesting in the long run, either. I'm by no means a natural leader- by the same token, I don't take well to blindly following orders (on account of which, my dad says I probably wouldn't be fit for a career in the military...which suits me fine, by the way). All in all, it seems to me that achieving success comes from speaking up.
In terms of other "deep thought"-type impressions to share, I'd say the qualities I've come to value most in people here are patience, compassion, and optimism. I'm not sure if I'm most drawn to people with these characteristics out of a shared spirit, or simple gratitude in making my time here more effective and enjoyable. Again, I by no means embody them all the time, myself, either, but I endeavor. Knowing people care about you, appreciate your company & insight, and see you as a friend first, and charge later (if at all) makes life just that much more worth living :)

cut & pasted post from buryatiasummerschool.org

After several years of using that old excuse that I’d come back to Buryatia “when I got the chance,” I finally made good on my commitment this summer. Granted, I was already in this part of the world, anyway–primarily to work on the Great Baikal Trail, and use Irkutsk as my home base.

Getting to Zakamensk (from Ulan Ude) was surprisingly simple, I found. I was seriously impressed with how organized the main bus station in Ulan Ude is, too. It’s mostly just a parking lot neatly divided into sections based on destination region with a daily schedule on display. Only thing is the bus station isn’t very close to the train station. It’s maybe a 20 minute walk if you’re feeling up for it. Otherwise, you can take a local marshrutka (I don’t know the #s, alas), or if you’re exhausted, sweaty and carrying a goatload of stuff like me, splurge on a taxi (100 rubles if you bargain hard).

The ride to Zakamensk is relatively pleasant once you break free of the Ulan Ude traffic grind. In my marshrutka, fellow passengers were very nice and helpful (if in a slightly parental fashion, which seems to follow me wherever I go…), eager to know what this seemingly wayward foreigner had in mind to do in their remote village. For the most part, my mobile (Megafon) had service along the way, and it worked fine the whole time in the village. I’ve heard people say that Megafon works best in small villages, or at least those in southern Buryatia. I personally can’t compare it to other servers, though I’m inclined to believe other companies would suffice in the village, which hosts its own cell phone tower.

In Khamney village (my primary base of operation) I was very warmly received, and was deeply touched by the efforts everyone (especially the kids) took to welcome me; I only wish I could begin to pay them back in kind. I also wish in my mad dash to finish school, gather my bags & documents and head to Russia, I had taken the time to pick up some local (i.e. California) souvenirs to offer my wonderfully generous hosts. As it was, I left the US with a few American dollars and a fistful of coins. Since Zakamensk doesn’t get a lot of foreign visitors- especially from as far away as the US- a set of coins & a dollar bill served as mementos for my host families, the local school’s English department and the regional history museum’s foreign currency collection.

My host families were extremely hospitable, giving up what little free space in their homes they had to ensure I was comfortable. It really reminded me how absolutely spoiled and extravagant many Americans (including myself) are with the amount of living space we “require” (demand). If arranged for Buryat-style living, my parents’ house could easily fit two separate families, and my [2 bedroom] apartment could take a nuclear family plus grandparents and an unmarried adult child or two for a time as needed, for example. While the limits to personal space were a bit different from what I was used to, I never really considered it problematic. Since people are used to sharing rooms (and using those rooms for many purposes), no one seemed to mind if I read, took a nap, or other similarly solitary activities from time to time while I was in the room. It seemed most houses in the village had a satellite dish in the yard, and TV is both a hobby and a background/scenery augmenter whenever somebody’s home there. Internet is very limited, I should add–especially in Khamney. Since I was there in June–thunderstorm season–we lost electricity a handful of times, and a particularly bad storm knocked out the internet cable at the school (the fastest, most reliable ‘net source most of the time). Attempts at using dial-up only tried my patience before I ultimately gave up, information unattained. If anything, at least I entertained the people around me by carrying on a colorfully angry monologue at the computer.

Before arriving in Khamney, I had thought about trying to teach students some of the basics of ecology (and the English terms used). However, I soon realized that it would be far more appropriate to stick to English language practice, and in a more ‘fun’ atmosphere–it was called “summer camp” after all. Plus I primarily worked with kids 12 & under, since teenagers were generally busy working in the fields and tending the gardens. My ecology “curriculum” (as written in my head) was really designed more for kids with some jr. high/high school science classes under their belts- the idea was that I wouldn’t be teaching them tons of completely new technical material, but reinforcing what they’d already learned, and adding a socially-minded, eco-conscious (and hopefully fun?) twist to it. For my part, I really regret not learning the Russian names for more of the local plant-life; that would’ve been very useful.

As it was, I worked mostly with kids age 8-12, some of which had no English background (namely the under 10 set) and others had a bit. Given the age of the students, their English language level, and that it was already summer vacation, I focused mostly on games I played at their age (using English words, of course), and teaching some simple songs. Some of the kids have beautiful voices, as was apparent when they sang in Russian, and even more so in Buryat.

Buryats make up the majority of the population in Khamney, though even among ethnic Russians there, my paleness sticks out like a sore thumb. I got the gambit of remarks from “wow, you are very white!” “why is your skin so pale? Are you sick?” “you need more sun,” “eat more blood sausage!” to “are you a vampire like Edward Cullen?” (the last was a joke, but a good one, I’d say). After one doozy of a sunburn at least the “more sun” demand died down a bit. For the sickness query, my response is “yes, I’ve been afflicted with English & Irish genes” (among others).

The blood sausage bit was a lost cause from the outset, pretty much. At home, I’m mostly vegetarian –fish and chicken on rare occasions, but never red meat–which was quite simply bizarre to locals in Khamney. While the extent to which they expressed their astonishment initially grew almost irritating, but I tried to chock it up to cultural differences. I reasoned that my own family and people I’m close with (many of whom are not vegetarians, I might add) would react the exact same way if a guest arrived claiming they didn’t eat any vegetables or vegetable-based products when possible: “Seriously? But they taste so good- especially when fresh,” “Almost all of our favorite recipes contain at least some vegetable products,” “growing vegetables is part of the local culture here, really,” “why don’t you eat vegetables? Is it for religious purposes?” “Some of the best vegetables in the world are grown here [central CA coast]- don’t you want to try any?” and, of course, “isn’t it unhealthy to never eat any vegetables?” Honestly, you could exchange the word “meat” for “vegetable” and “Buryatia/Mongolia” for “California,” and the sentiment would be exactly the same. Eventually people reluctantly accepted that I wasn’t going to eat the sausage links on my plate, and just ate around the pieces of meat in soups, salads & the like. Admittedly, Zakamenski raiyon is not an easy place to be vegetarian. Also, I am used to food prepared with lots of spices at home, and they often just use salt & pepper in preparing food. However, it seems almost every kitchen does have a trusted bottle of Chinese (or possibly Vietnamese?) chili sauce on the table, ready for use; these bottles became good culinary friends of mine.

As far as I could see, not very many people in the Zakamenski raiyon speak English fluently. For me, this was a blessing, since it allowed me to function entirely in Russian (an opportunity I rarely get elsewhere) though it could prove challenging for potential volunteers without a background in Russian language. I will say, for those with some knowledge of Russian, it’s a great opportunity for language immersion practice. Granted, for the few English speakers (especially English teachers at local schools), they’re desperate for practice with a native (or fluent) speaker of English, and it seems only fair to offer them the chance, as they get it so rarely. Also, if any EFL teachers out there without much knowledge of Russian want to challenge themselves, spending a few weeks teaching kids in Zakamensk would be great for skill-building, imho. FYI, Mongolian speakers could probably get by in the villages, too- in case you were interested.

Well, there’s my babbling for you. All in all, I really enjoyed my time in Zakamenski raiyon and hope to return ASAP. Spread the word to anyone you know with an interest in Buryat life & culture, work with enthusiastic kids, or just making a little difference in somebody’s life they won’t soon forget :-)

Back from the frontlines...

So, yeah, I've been absolutely lousy at keeping up on this blog- especially seeing how I've been online much of the time while in Irkutsk. Not that it matters all that much...

I started this post a couple of days ago, but the meaning's pretty much the same at present. I just got back from two weeks on the trail- more specifically in "the Jungles of Khamar-Daban." While it was by no means the tropics, the title "jungle" wasn't entirely unfitting, either. It was definitely the most humid part of Lake Baikal I've been to, but I guess that's a bit redundant: it's the most humid part of the lake. period. Thus, I shouldn't have been surprised by the amount of rainfall we experienced, and on many levels, I wasn't. I guess in my mind's eye I hadn't factored in the rain as a major deterrent to our work progress or activity level. Put simply, it was, in a big way. Since we were breaking ground into the side of a rather steep hill, we were only allowed to work when the soil and sky were dry. As a result, the number of full days we were actually able to work was somewhat limited.
I've quipped to my foreign compatriots, as well as anyone else who could take an odd-ball joke that we were in essence mocking Stalin's brutal gulag legacy. To those who lost relatives to his wrath, as well as the few [delusional?] War Patriots who still worship the man, perhaps the comparison's a bit crass- oh well. What good is a generation butchered and forced into slave labor by torture, isolation and fear if you can't find any absurdly offensive humor from it?
Among other things, the trail-time served as a great two-week experiment in grossness--at least for me. Some of the Russians would make a habit of trudging down the slope to the water's edge--an ice cold, fast-running stream--and bathe, swim, or at least splash each other vigorously for awhile. As for me, I tried the ice-dips a few times, but pretty quickly common sense took hold and kept me from repeatedly engaging in such severe pain with such little gain to be derived from it--couldn't even get soap off in the icy water once you'd managed to lather it on. As it was, I just sponge-bathed with left overs from tea, and let my hair go to hell in a hot khachapuri...at it's worst, I figured I'd just grow dreadlocks all summer and chop my hair all off when I got back. While the idea seemed almost enticing at the time, I was somewhat glad not to require it when all's said & done. Granted, if there's ever a time to chop (shave?) it all off, it's now while I'm still in school, so it'd at least be at pixie-length when the serious job-hunt gets underway ::shiver::
Group dynamics were generally decent, but as the other foreigners pointed out, we were a bit coddled, over-protected, and herded around. I guess it's just an example of different cultures' understanding of group behavior and how to manage it. I'm not saying that all Russians value conformity over uniqueness, or that there's not a time/place for uniformity in my opinion. However, I'm much more inclined to appreciate individuals for their skill sets (on the trail, as well as in life), and try to utilize them efficiently and effectively. In comparison, our brigadier (a good friend & great guy, I should add) generally opted to fit us all into the same mold--management in bulk, if you will--and treat all deviation from that norm as a negative that impeded overall progress and productivity. I try not to claim my own cultural superiority in this matter, but the top-down approach didn't sit too well with my free-bird (bird-brain?) spirit.

My take? It was worth it, and two weeks in the Siberian wilderness without significant discomfort would be a waste of time & money, and fail to meet the only distinctive expectation I had before setting out! Sure, I learned about how to build a trail from scratch out of the side of a mountain, but the human aspect is what's stuck with me, and I'm the wiser a fool for it :D

Ayee! Blast, my bloody feet!

Okay, not quite literally, but close! I don't know what it is, but whenever I go for a long(ish --yesterday was only ~10 or 12 km) trek in hiking boots, my heels always end up scraped up & raw; last night was no exception. All in all, it's more annoying than anything, and really makes me look like a total candy ass. I mean, while the rest of me was tired from a longish walk on hilly terrain in hot weather, I could have likely pressed on till dark (another couple hours or so) if circumstances required it, without too much difficulty. However, the feeling of my skin being ripped off a little more with each step kinda takes the fun out of walking. If that weren't enough, several of my toes took a bit of a beating, too, so it's not like I can just favor my heels and put my weight further forward. Sorry to whine so much about it, but I keep getting the nagging feeling that this isn't completely "normal," and perhaps everyone doesn't have to wear only open-toed, backless shoes for a day or two after a quality hike?

arrived in Severobaikalsk at long last!

Okay, I'm going to do my best at writing a brief info update, rather than a full-on editorial. So, yeah, after the debacle that was my attempt to get to Severobaikalsk last Friday, I was on the verge of giving up going at all. Fortunately, my friend (and guardian angel, just about) Varya helped me set up a meeting with the sales manager at the Irkutsk ferry port, who agreed to let me take the Tuesday ferry at no extra cost. While my time here is much shorter than it was supposed to be, I'm still really glad that I came. I had a great night's sleep here at the hostel (on the first mattress I've had in months!), and the swaying-feeling in my head from the 12 hour boat ride is completely gone :) Anya (the local GBT coordinator) gave me the low-down on what we can do in these next few days. It's certainly action-packed, and I should be ready to hit the ground running! In fact, just writing here now probably is cutting into time I should spend running errands & touring the town.

'Till next time, Campers!

perception of domestic animals across cultures

Hmm...I guess that sounds more like the title of a thesis than a mere blog posting. Maybe I should rephrase it: most people in & around Zakamensk seemed to have a different view the role of domestic animals in their lives than I, or many of the Russians I know.
I've been doing my best to withhold judgement, and accept it as just part of a different set of cultural values from my own, but at times that proves difficult.
Fortunately, people were amused by my child-like fascination with the throngs of animals that wandered around town at all hours. While I didn't come across traffic jams caused by massive herds of sheep & cattle in the street to the full extent I did in Kyrgyzstan, I was granted many an opportunity to wait in an idling car as heifers engaged in full-scale shoving matches with their owners in the middle of the street, in hopes of Team Brawn scoring one against Team Brain this time...
I guess I've never spent much quality time on an economically functioning (i.e. not a small family project with no interest in profits), so I couldn't speak about what level of personal attachment people have for their livestock in those instances.
My only basis of comparison at all, now that I think about it, is the apartment I rented in New York while at Bard. I lived in a cozy studio above the garage of a family who was very much involved in 4H projects. For that, they raised goats, pigs, chickens, and kept around the occasional duck to populate the pond. If I recall, the kids (two teenage girls who'd been raising livestock their whole lives) gave every single animal- including those they planned to eat- names and paid them personal attention.
While most people in Khamney, Zakamensk, etc, didn't seem especially interested in the emotional well-being of their stock, I saw no outright animal cruelty, either. Nobody beat, kicked, or starved an animal, as far as I could see, nor was there any killing without a specific purpose. Albeit, many animals died for the purpose of serving as food for humans. As my pictures have also shown, they let not a meaty organ from the slaughtered beast go to waste- an efficiency level I applaud them with for not only stomaching each and every organ, but thoroughly enjoying it piece by piece as well. It's rather humbling to consider for a finicky American like me.
What I also observed is that in the village, most any domestic animal that people keep has an occupation, or reason to kept, as it were. My host's cat, for instance, spent much of his time prowling around in the basement managing the mouse population there. Dogs are often on-call watching chickens and other small stock against potential predators. They primarily live outside & stay in barns, sheds or dugouts for shelter against the elements.
For me, keeping dogs outside all the time feels a bit strange & sad, mostly 'cause my beloved golden retriever, Linzy, who was with me most of my childhood was very much a member of the family who went most everywhere and did everything with us. It seems people here don't generally take the time to socialize their dogs much. Whenever I showed a dog any attention, as if to very cautiously coax it to come over, people always said, "don't do that- it bites!" Needless to say, whenever I saw feral dogs there (and there were a ton!) and I was alone, they always fled timidly from my beckoning, and never showed a sign of aggression towards me at all.
With domestic dogs (i.e. those with a name, a reliable source of leftovers and a dugout to sleep in) I had a bit more success. Again, when I was alone in the front yard with my hosts' dogs, I ever-so-slowly and gently extended my open-palmed hand forward to let them have a sniff and know I came in peace. After a few minutes of sniffing me out, they each let me pet them on the head. After a bit, Bovik decided he was ready for a new activity, while Lucas was positively transfixed by the patting. He had originally belonged to a neighbor who abandoned him after moving away and died before anyone could contact him about the dog. Poor Lucas wandered around the neighborhood looking for scraps for a few weeks before discovering my hosts' house, making fast friends with Bovik, and effectively moving in. I give all this background info to explain that it's quite likely poor Lucas had never experienced affection or overt kindness from a human before.
Pretty much overnight he went from being skittish and anxious to being energetic, friendly and blissfully happy. Granted, in his happiness he also took to jumping up on me -as a small terrier mutt, he didn't have the might to knock me over, thank god- and getting mud all over my legs & pants. People kept saying I had some sort of 'magic touch' with animals, though I argued all I did was show him a little love, and let him reciprocate in kind :) The poor guy had also never had a bath, and not a haircut/brushing all year, so I took it upon myself to release him from the dirty-dreadlock shackles, and brushed him down till he was practically silky to the touch. The piles of fur on the lawn were enough to make a dog hair shirt for the most high-maintenance of masochists ;-) I next gave Bovik a similar treatment (again, he was less enthusiastic about it) before moving onto Barsik, the cat, who from petting, I realized had some ferocious dreds to be dealt with. As I brushed him down and felt for the biggest hair balls, I was struck how they didn't move independently from his flesh. Pressing a bit harder with my fingertips, I discovered that his body was covered with deep flesh-wounds, which never properly healed, and the fur just grew in on the scar tissue. Before you lambast the owners for animal negligence and cruelty, there's something else to keep in mind: Barsik is a 10 year-old tomcat who's free to roam wherever he chooses, and consort with, knock up, and fight with whomever he's inclined. Given the circumstances, I'd say it's impressive for a tom to live that long in any condition. The only thing that perturbed me really was the relative indifference people expressed to my "discovery" of the depth and multitude of his scars. Also, I was unsettled imagining poor Barsik wandering home after a fight covered in blood with torn flesh, while nobody even notices him. I understand that people don't generally bring their animals to veterinarians here, but the fact that they never bothered to clean the wounds, and set them as best they can made me uncomfortable. I know I'm just being a squeamish Westerner, and I don't mean to judge locals for their treatment of domestic animals, but I will simply have to reconcile that their cultural of animals in life is just entirely different from my own.

backlog entry: Khamney HS graduation

I had the good fortune of being invited to attend the graduation ceremony & celebration of Khamney's twelve 11th graders. I haven't really been to a graduation in Buryatia, Siberia, or Russia as a whole, so I can't really compare it to any of them. I've also never been to a really small-town HS graduation in the States, so I can't really compare it to that, either. All in all, I enjoyed the relative lack of pomp & circumstance the event maintained throughout, say compared to graduations I've been to in the States...and most every structured event I've been to in Russia. Maybe I'm just the overly cynical, sardonic, drab, relatively-privileged westerner, but I have a bit of a hard time with over-the-top ecstatic genuine sincerity when exposed in large doses. Sometimes I wish I could just embrace things whole-heartedly like a lot of people here tend to do. At the same time, all the brouhaha of fancy awards and long, drawn-out speeches at fairly minor events is still gonna be tedious, no matter how you slice it. As I mentioned, this particular event had only a limited number of short speeches (including an on-the-spot nervous well-wishing from me!) before the diplomas were given out. The students recited a poem which expressed their appreciation for their teachers, family & friends. It was quaint.
Following a nicely choreographed & carried-out waltz by the graduates, they launched an extensive slide show set to a steady-pulsing techno-beat. This took place around 7 PM which in mid June in Siberia was still very light out, so the slide pictures were often hard to see. I felt bad for losing interest after awhile, and made a point to pay attention till the end, or at least try to (meanwhile, many guests had already started eating what was on the table, and no longer looking at the faded screen at all).
I took special notice (and pictures!) of the food served, as it was what they considered "top quality" for "special occasions." There was more fresh fruit available that one day than I'd seen in my previous week and a half in town. As no one sitting near me showed any particular interest in the fruit tray, I imbibed rather heavily in it...which later proved not to be such a good idea, given the pouring rain that ensued and followed me to the hole-in-the-floor outhouse through the stinging nettles every time...
People seemed a lot more interested in digging into the sheep innards in front of us. It had been slaughtered the day before and prepared that afternoon to perfection. BTW, I've asked around, and nobody seems to eat the sheep's liver raw, fresh off the carcass. I guess our time was a bit of a fluke ;-)
Eventually the shot glasses came out, as with several bottles of vodka. I'd hardly drunk a thing since I got to Russia, so I did feel the effects of a couple shots, but not too badly. Some of the parents, teachers & the like were getting quite boisterously loquacious from the drinks, which I must admit, I found rather amusing. I've only come across a couple of stereotypical "town-drunk" individuals, who each struck me as lonely and a bit off-kilter; I wish there were something I (or most anybody else) could do to help...
The teens were allowed to take shots of sweet plum & apricot wine (which tasted like juice and, compared with the vodka, had no real effect on me). I sat w/ the grads & did a couple shots with them before Galina suggested we head home. I figured that was a good cue to take my bows and exit stage right, and let the real teens (i.e. not me, no matter how much I like to think I'm still 17) enjoy their newfound freedom.

I ::heart:: Ulan Ude

I kindof want to get that written on a tee-shirt "I ::heart:: NY" style, but in Cyrillic. I found one that read "I ::heart:: UU," but figured no one would know what "UU" was, and probably wouldn't bother asking. I tried it on all the same, but it didn't fit. Just as well. For some reason, the shop attendants all think I should wear clothes several sizes smaller than I do. While I appreciate the flattery (they could just offer me the exact same garment in a bigger size and make the same profit margin from sales- choosing not to is a question of fashion, not money), there's a couple of problems with their choices. Yes, literally a couple, if you really want to get specific. I don't say this to brag- it can be a pain when clothes shopping. I also have really broad shoulders, or maybe all the shirts on sale here are made for women with narrow little shoulders. Oh well.
I'd seriously like to stick around here awhile (a few months or a year) if, of course, I could find gainful employment. Ain't that always the case? With the scary-ass loans I'll have to manage, small-time English teaching gigs probably won't suffice as "gainful" anymore :-/ I guess I shouldn't complain; if I wanted to make teaching English my career, I'd be studying TESOL, rather than IEP & business. I may have to stay States-side for a few more years before working my way into a position that brings me back here more. It's too soon to say for now, though. Maybe I'll even apply for Peace Corps in a few years for a personal challenge and escape from whatever American life I'm carrying out at the time.
As for the city, maybe I'm just drawn to it as the 'alternative' to Irkutsk: the smaller, less wealthy, more obscure Jan to Irkutsk's Marsha...okay, that last bit was lame. My bad. Still, though, I'm always drawn to Option Two, Choice B, the runner-up who loses by a hair, and their story is forever lost in favor of winner-worship. Or maybe they do get fame & fortune of their own, but still always known as "second to ___." It's not out of underdog support, but a desire for the road less taken that draws me to the Leon Trotskys & Peter Toshes of the world, as it were.
Or maybe I'm just drawn to the "exotic," "Asian" feel of things here. It's just a vibe and I know I shouldn't exoticize the place or people too much in my attempt to find somewhere "different." Really, I don't feel all that culturally challenged here in the city- so people have Asian features and pray at datsans instead of churches...so what? The village was a challenge for me, culturally and otherwise in ways which the city can't compare to. Perhaps my love is rooted in a feel of newness, simplicity and basic creature-comforts all rolled into one.

back in internet land at last!

So I'm off to a lousy start with keeping up this blog-thing, but in my defense, I had no internet access at all for these past two weeks. Granted, if I'd really been committed to the blog, I'd've written on the comp routinely and just cut & paste it all now, but I felt it'd be anti-social to spend all my spare time on the computer writing in English about people who are sitting in the same room as me. Granted, I certainly spent time reading & playing Sim City when I wasn't entirely alone- albeit, I don't think I was ever completely alone at any point there. Seriously, the outhouse is the only place where you can reliably find some 'me-time...' until someone else needs to use it for its designed purpose...
Even so, the books & games seemed less exclusive. I forgot to bring any English-language paperbacks before I left the States, so all I have with me now are in Russian. I'm by no means covering Dostoevsky in original form, though: right now I'm about halfway through The Shawshank Redemption translated into Russian, and plan to start The Hobbit translation next. I mention this just to point out that there was nothing cryptic about what I was reading. Anybody could pick it up, read the back and know exactly what I was up to. As for Sim City, yeah it's in English, but they can also figure out the premise pretty easily.
I guess the point I'm slowly trying to make is that life in rural Buryatia (Zakamensky Region, namely) is very communal and inclusive. People aren't really accustomed to a lot of personal space, and don't mind changing clothes, bathing & the like in the company of friends & family. While it's different from what I'm used to, I didn't mind all that much- excessive modesty in a two-room house with no interior doors would be a real pain at times, I can imagine. At the same time, outhouses in public places (i.e. anywhere besides someone's house- "public outhouse" holds a far more frightening connotation than I think they really deserve there...unless someone obviously doesn't even try to aim- then it really is terrifying) often sport multiple holes in the floor, presumably to accommodate multiple squatters at once. Admittedly I was rather relieved to find that people opted to wait in line and enter the little house of horrors one at a time :-)
I crave a certain amount of alone-time, as my cultural background & upbringing has afforded me, and at times caught myself feeling irritable and curt- I can only hope it didn't show. I was on the fence about apologizing for my snappiness, explaining it wasn't their fault, and not mentioning it, in assumption that they didn't notice. I ultimately chose the latter approach, figuring it would take more time & effort for them to figure out why I was apologizing than any momentary notice of sulkiness I'd displayed previously.
I guess this post is evidence as to why maybe it's not so great to keep all these thoughts in my head and try to jot them down only later. I'll try to organize my thoughts a bit more, now that the jumbled mass is out.

So I've just about bought the farm...err, pharmacy, rather

This is getting ridiculous! I must've purchased a different product for each symptom- which is to say, I'm up to five, and considering a couple others. That's not normal, is it? I generally pride myself on not being a hypochondriac, and take meds only when I really need them (i.e. no antibiotics unless I and/or the doc is confident that it's bacterial) but the fact that this has been going on in one form or another for almost a week is undoubtedly a bit disconcerting. Especially the earache and the [definitely connected] swollen, sore throat. After poking around on webMD (again, a first), it might be inflammation of the eustachian tube which is causing all the pressure. One solution to that involves taking some long, pipe-cleaner like device and inserting it into your ear at the proper angle to help manually unblock the tube. While I've seen these stick-like things at the pharmacy, and the pharmacist even recommended it, I feel a little uncertain about sticking a long pipe down my own ear. It's something I'd rather have a professional (doctor, nurse, anyone who's particularly savvy on ear care,etc) perform such a deed if at all possible. When I asked people about what's involved in setting up an appointment to have a doctor look at my ear, they started discussing what was available at the local hospital. Knock on wood, I'm not quite there yet ;-) And paying a private practice out of pocket here is still a drop in the bucket compared to American medical costs. For now I might try asking at the thorn tree forums if anyone has advice about clinics in Irkutsk.
Granted, what much of my online poking about also said is that most of these ailments will clear up on their own if you're willing to wait it out (a few had doomsday taunts about not getting help ASAP, but they were greatly outnumbered by the former). So it's likely I'll just do that. Being sick is neither fun, nor practical, but I'm not sure what else to do, really.
Then there's another thing- apparently you can get antibiotics here without a prescription, so I could theoretically try them just to see if what I've got is, in fact, bacterial, rather than viral, and if it helps. In a weird way, that almost runs against my ethics- putting my immediate comfort ahead of the future of effective medicine for humanity...okay, maybe that's a little strong, but I still feel like our general overuse of antibiotics to treat viral illnesses is ultimately weakening their effectiveness when actually needed (the whole fear of adaptive super-bacteria that we can't control argument, suffice it to say).
Well, I might just have to take a nap for a bit, spittoon by my bed. Cheers!

Up for round II, anybody?
It's nearing both 6AM and broad daylight, and I'm beginning to think my night's sleep is just about through. A new day awaits with further tasks ahead. Albeit, what I really should do is hole up in here all day until my paper (due a couple days ago officially, but I got an extension) is entirely out of my hands. I'll probably spend most of the time doing as much, save a couple hours' talk & run-through at the GBT office this morning, which is an opportunity I can't really afford to pass up--it's why I came here & all.
Yesterday I finally ventured out of the house and worked my way down to the Central Market to pick up some necessities. The top item on the list (without which I couldn't be writing from my own computer at the moment) was a socket adapter, and for whatever reason it was surprisingly difficult for me to explain to the shopkeepers- they all offered to sell me electricity converters when I mentioned I needed 'from American to European' mode (the latter includes Russia, much of Asia and Africa, too, but I opted for simplicity over utmost accuracy). I suppose the converter would've been good if I didn't already have one on my computer. They also tried selling me USB-drive adapters for the computer, which also seemed a bit unnecessary, and a good 20 times my intended price. Finally, just as I was losing hope, ready to collapse from sleep deprivation and no food, I stumbled upon a little hardware kiosk that had just what I needed for 30 rubles (~$1.05-1.10...the dollar's taken some big hits since I was here last in '09).
High with confidence, I went on in search of my second most important purchase- a sim card. In Moscow, no one has ever refused to sell me a sim card without a Russian citizen co-signing & the like. However, several different vendors in Irkutsk turned me down for that very reason, stating it was legally-binding. At least nobody was especially bitchy about it, and each said I might be able to find someone at a street kiosk who'd sell me one without a Russian passport. I recall when I was here in '05, my classmates at the time complained of similar problems acquiring sim cards while in Irkutsk. Being the Luddite that I am, I didn't bother with a phone at all in those days. I guess I just assumed that the laws had changed since then, and since nobody said it was regionally-based, it seems to me to be a case of selective interpretation of the law that happens all so often here. Can't blame individual vendors, though--those who get reviewed regularly and must account for all sales to an HQ (and who don't have significant funds to pay monitors to overlook 'fuzzy numbers') naturally have to follow laws more closely than those who aren't being held accountable. It's far from fair, but just a fact of business & life out here...and to an extent, probably everywhere else, too.
Needless to say, the lovely lasses at the Megafon kiosk were kind enough to sell me a #. And a new phone. I opted for the cheapest device on the shelf, which clearly disappointed them a bit. I think my old jeans, sneakers and nondescript fleece were good indicators of my disinterest in conspicuous consumption, and they didn't go on for too long in attempts to sell me on the benefits of a few more apps.
After picking up the rest (stationery, pears & Kazakh tan -pretty much all I can stomach right now- and cheap shampoo imported from Japan- it seemed half of the health & beauty products available around here are Japanese; same goes for the high-quality/reduced-price, though distinctly illegal cars that roam the streets here. I suppose having the driver's seat next to the sidewalk makes for a good impromptu game of "Chicken," if motorists are ever so inclined), I strolled back home, eager for a nap. Until I forgot the entrance code and spent an hour waiting outside in the street for someone to open the door. Not my most brilliant moment.

Entry #1: Travel-sick, etc

Hey Gang,
Well, it's been just over 24 hours in Irkutsk, and I can honestly say I'm definitely feeling better already. By no means 100% (maybe 80 or 85), but considerably less achey, nose has mostly dried up, throat's a lot less sore, and the sweating & violent shivering were not nearly so intense this eve as last.
I'm not completely certain, but am pretty sure that my trip to Irkutsk from Monterey is the furthest I've traveled- by plane or otherwise- in one fall swoop. At least that's what my body's been telling me. I find it rather batty that ticket costs for flying east (through New York & Moscow) is literally half of what they would be to go west (via Beijing & Ulan Bator) even though the distance for the latter's much shorter. Hmm...that's actually something I'd like to look up- comparing the distance between crossing the Atlantic & crossing the Pacific to get here. As a wild ass guess, I'd say I traveled 2/3 of the way around the globe this way, as opposed to 1/3 the other. Granted, there's changes in latitudes to take into consideration, and going polar from NYC to Moscow, but all you need due is look at a map to know that the two routes are not equi-distant.
Well, I'll have to double check at an internet cafe, or somewhere a bit quicker than it is here. Nice to have internet available from the house, though, even if it operates at a snail's pace. With my jetlag, it's a good way to stay occupied and away from shuffling around in the bedroom where everyone else is sleeping. During the summer months, GBT uses this flat as a hostel, but during the year, it's more like a dormitory for students and young professionals here on contracted assignments & the like. Apart from living with 6 other people (though there are 16 beds) in a two bedroom flat, it's a nice little place in a great location. If push came to shove, I could live in an arrangement like this for a few months for work. No privacy, mixed rooms, etc, but it's really not that big a deal. Unless you're an exceptionally vociforous masturbator or snorer, or suffer severely from some gastrointestinal disorder or other, then chances are, your nighttime habits aren't much different than anybody else's, and no one much cares what you do.
There's also a darling little furry, long-eared friend called Krosh who patters about the place at night, testing for anything new, interesting or edible with his whiskers as he goes. I've engaged him a few times and he seems fond enough of me- a good sign that he's been well-loved and cared for his whole life through. Granted, our interactions are quite simple- unlike a cat or dog, with a rabbit there are sizable limitations on the intellectual connections to be formed. Perhaps that's not a bad way to be- the ultimate "Simple Life." A small herbivore whose greatest protection against predators is its superpowerful ability to procreate en mass and keep its genes safe & sound, if not its own fluffy little body. It's probably just as well that rabbits aren't able to contemplate the meaning of their existence to a very high degree: while a pet rabbit will breed rarely if ever in its lifetime, it is also safely guarded away from all its natural pretadors...and yes, I have factored in the stereotypical response of "well, what if your guest chef is specifically trained in traditional French cuisine?" I've got no statistics handy (and don't really plan on looking for these ones any time soon), but I can only assume that such a culinary master would most likely be able to distinguish a beloved pet in a spacious hutch with toys & a name-tag from tonight's main entree. Perhaps they're required to take a weekend workshop at culinary school about the role of animals as pets & food in different cultures across the globe. They've invested far too much in their education to end a career abruptly and insidiously by such a fatal mistake.
52 degrees North. That's where I'm at. And this is almost as far south as it gets in interior Russia (i.e. Sochi & Vladivostok don't count). I've been in a stuporous daze pretty much since I got here, and spent most of yesterday semi-drugged with a wet towel on my forehead, waiting for the sun to set and stop overheating my mattress. Needless to say, that didn't happen till about 11 at night. Granted, it's not Petersburg here or anything, but it's approaching White Nights season even all the way down here. If I weren't so ill, I think I'd enjoy it--all the more time to be active & busy outside. As it is, I just pop another pill and put my sleeping mask back on. Maybe if my strength is up, I'll go out today. But I'll try & get some rest first =)