Bad Blogging Good Living

So I have been very truant. Very very truant.

Once I got back, things really started moving on two fronts. First, preparing for the trip to Alaska. Second, making money working construction. Neither seemed to be packed with thought provoking moments worthy of sharing. To sum it up, there are many many little logistical steps that go into arranging a long time far far away from many many little logistical steps. And making money is much more possible in the US than Kyrgyzstan. I made in 4 hours roofing what a doctor would make in a month at the ER, or a teacher in 2 months. I think that keeping that in the back of my mind helps me make sure that I use my power to consume wisely. That is to say, try to do less harm than perhaps average for this part of the world.

Then came camp. What is there to say about that place? It seems to me to be a place where amazing people, who are in many ways different, get together and work energetically and constructively at giving young people an experience to change their lives for the better. What more could I ask for in a job. This summer was blissfully productive on that front. For myself, my group, and camp at large from what I saw. I watched older staff provide great trips and great role modeling for younger staff. And I watched younger staff transform their joy and energy from being a camper (or going camping, if they had not been campers) into real selfless concientiousness of others. Watching peoples' hearts and minds awaken to a a more authentic and fundamental way of living, a parallel and connected but distinct reality, is awesome. As in full of awe. But nothing like awful.

And in the midst of all that was a trip. I needed to be reminded of the power and sublimity of the Arctic. My first time there perhaps I had too few places to compare and contrast it too. Then as I traveled more and more through different comfort zones I thought the Arctic, and the mountaineer experience, was somehow pretty much the same. I even let myself think at times that I was doing it, not because it would be the greatest opportunity for growth for me, but because I could provide the greatest comfort-expanding opportunity for others. Naivity wrapped in ego. The freedom of endless sunlight and the radiant joy of a simple life with young, playful and responsible people is sunshine after a dark winter, ice water on a hot day and rain after a drought.

I think in our own ways, each of us came back saying "oh yeah, that's how great life can be. I have to get me some of that for next year, forever. "

Except of course one does not get such a thing. One lives it every moment of every day with the decisions we make and people we surround ourselves with. And that's why its so great. It comes from inside. That's why it can be so hard to find too, because no one can make that happen for but myself.

Most recently, family was visited in Phoenix. It was great, just like I'd never left... about 4 years ago. except of course that everyone has grown and changed, especially the youngins. But that's why it seems so familiar. because despite all the changes the fundamental dynamic and goodness is the same. It's a good thing to come back to.

Coming back to the USA news cycle and the city has been good. Its a good challenge to have distractions that remind us of the need to get back to what's real... of course all of it is real but somehow it is not complete. It is some sort of unbalanced appendage to a more whole reality.

Seeing talk of politics, I think I will focus on remaining informed but undefined by it. Watching some people try to convince the universe that some particular party's platform embodies Truth and Justice and all things Good.

If only US domestic politics were more like Star Wars.

So now it's finding a place to live in Seattle. Four Widji connected folks will be grooving together out there. It's going to be a blast and a mellow blast at times, I hope.

My councilor had a kid. William Alouiscious Hansen. And time rolls on.

Minneapolis

I returned from Bishkek a week ago today. It's been good, great even. The feeling of not being one's self is starting to fade away as I spend evenings with friends and family. I am commited morally and financially to UW next semester for Central Asian Studies. I never realized how much stuff I have until I collected it all in one room for sorting. Gross.

So I think right now is very much about getting my feet back underneath me. Not to say that Kyrgyzstan was somehow some sort of a traumatic exerience that requires recovery but making up for all that lost time in terms of paying attention to (and receiving attention from) friends and family, dealing with stuff (literally all of the accumulated things with attendant memories), trying to get back in shape, and plan the excursion to Alaska are all sort of things that require time but don't really qualify me as busy or working. It is good to take a moment to prepare for the future in every nebulous and concrete way.

I certainly feel that Minneapolis is where I am from but it is not where I live. The anchorless feeling is liberating and daunting. But I will be moving out of my parent's place officially (no stuff in storage).

On the international events front, protests in Kyrgyzstan are going to result in some sort of lurch away from the status quo. It is unclear how that is going to end up though, it is fairly unimportant until some leader comes along with the will and the influence to govern well (and honestly).

Somalia is sliding back to chaos. The US was foolish to think that an Islamic movement can be decisively defeated on the battlefield. If the Islamists come to power again the US should recognize the government and offer aid. Then you can have leverage and less hate. As long as we posture like their ideology can only be dealt with by eradication, they will behave accordingly. Both China and Russia only changed significantly after detente, and the changes (including less hostility to the US) came only after internal upheaval.

The US would also do well to ease up on the rhetoric vis-a-vis Iran (recognize the regime, denounce regime change) and do more under the radar.

I sat next to what I consider to be a fundamentalist for the final leg of the journey home. He believed that the Bible was the supreme source of truth, thus the world is 6,000 years old and all the so-call scientists are out there just to keep the Word of Christ down. Ironically, he claimed to love science and said that science upheld his world-view. All of his "scientists" seemed to amount to one guy in Pensacola Florida with a talk show. I gave a couple of attempts to question his logic, but when he considers the Bible and the Pensacola Creationist to be legitimate sources of information and I do not, it was hard to have a discussion. The lack of a discussion did not prevent the preacher from Nebraska from doing what he knows how to do, preach.

All and all he seemed like a great guy. If only completely irrational belief systems had no effect on people's politics and we did not live in a democracy...

Thanks to everyone that wrote to me while I was abroad. It means more than I can say. I'll keep writing on this page, but probably less frequently for a while.

Kyrgyz Implosion

Ridiculously, I often hear about big changes in Kyrgyz politics from the AP or the New York Times. I suppose that people are basically just fed up with all the backroom scheming. I'll try to illustrate why.

The current super-president is Bakaev, from Osh. Most of the government is run by his buddies. People from the North don't like this. So the North and South tussle about who gets to control the government. Some people that feel they are not getting their fair shake at governance (or non-governance?) are planning to protest in April. Bakaev has reason to be afraid, such a protest put him into power two years ago and could just as easily put him out of power.

It the countdown to the protests everyone is jockeying to shore up their exposure to political risk. Seven Ministers (of 12 or so I think) tried to resign. First people thought that Bakaev was getting rid of them to co-opt opposition protest leaders. But then he failed to endorse the resignations. So now it looks like maybe the ministers were trying clear the wreckage of Bakaev's sinking ship.

But today the NYT's reported that he has announced a new prime minister, from the opposition. Does this mean that Kyrgyzstan will be really looking at reform and move away from brinksmanship politics? or does it mean that the wobbly super-president has negotiated another few months in office? No one is sure, most don't care.

How do demonstrations topple governments when the people are universally alienated and apathetic? My theory is that things get rolling by "bought" demonstrators, literally paid to make a fuss by one side or the other. Throw in underemployment, a lack of positive male avenues in life and the resulting anger at the world and you can get a Bishkek pillaged in minutes flat.

The real moral of the story is that no one really knows what is going on and what people's intentions are. People have become estranged from political dialogue because so far all that has been served up is very superficial stuff that is not properly challenged by the weak media. For example, polygamy has actually been thrown around the parliament here as a potential idea.

Some of the pro-polygamy arguments:
"I mean, we're Muslim so we are allowed to be polygamists, right?"

"One guy I know has four wives but he is just helping out widows and stays with his family. So polygamy can be sweet and touching and doesn't have to be scary."

A real dialogue about what it means to be Kyrgyz and Muslim and what being Muslim means for policy is pretty much non-existant. That estrangement from dialogue can be dangerous as it tends to lead to reinforcing cycles of revolutions, brinksmanship and instability rather than evolution, negotiation and flexible-continuity.

As time for me winds down, there have been a lot of good-byes. I was surprised to feel sad about giving my last English classes. It's always bitter-sweet.

Some of our young climbers made it to the finals of a climbing competition. They made second and fourth place. I am hoping that the format of the competition will reinforce the message I have been lamely trying to deliver: It is not if you get to the top that matters but how you get there. After all, once you finish one climb, the only thing left to do is start another and if you always take the easy route, that is all you will be capable of. Banal and cheesy, but that is often a good indication of more than a nugget of truth.

Swollen Eyes, Dancin' and Monkey Morality

I had to admire my host sisters. The dance club was 4/5 empty. They had imbibed not a drop of alcohol but they set out to dance and dance they did. I wish I could have admired them from afar. Three people, the base-intensive stylings of Mr. Timberlake, and a big old dance floor. If only the fog machine had been more proactive in creating a hazily anonymous ambiance.

One of my students had swelling under his right eye. It looked like an ingrown under-eyelash, or one of those lovely deep painful pimples. When I asked him what was up, he said that he must have looked at something unclean. I wasn't sure I understood. So he made some odd hand gestures and then settled on the example of a dog peeing.

I chuckled, my cultural sensitivity caught off guard by what seemed to me to be a quaint explanation. And that is why it is hard to have discussions about o-so-many topics with my students. Our underlying assumptions about reality are completely different.

Biological Origins of Morality this is an interesting article that overviews a discussion about the origins of morality. I think it is hard to defend a universal objective moral truth. What does it matter to the infinite cosmos if one human kills another? Do we pass judgment on single celled organisms for destroying one another? An insightful way to examine morality is to ask, why? The answer is usually that unregulated behavior leads to instability which is bad for the group (even though it may be advantageous to the individual in the short term). It does not make morality any less important though. We are what we are and there is more escaping that. Also, social bonds of friendsship or love are fairly easily explained rationtionally, but that does not mean they are any less significant. Considering why we think the way do however, can help us avoid tragic folly.

I am struggling with going to grad school. All and all it sounds like the experience will be similar to IPE at UPS. That is to say, flexible and drawing off of many disciplines. But by borrowing from so many disciplines, in someways it can lack discipline (structure). IPE did not give me any special technique that makes me employable. But it does give an excellent and adaptable approach to examining many problems. JSIS offers much of the same but more indepth and focused regionally.

Is it possible to specialize as a generalist in today's world?

So it seems that (and the language emphasis) plays to my personality. So far the IPE-type style has worked out pretty well for me. The lack of a defined alternative also tilts me toward school. And Seattle/the Cascades. Finally, I am reminded of a bit of mountaineering wisdom. Sometimes a decision and corresponding action is better than indecision and inaction. Sometimes (most often) you have make a decision based on incomplete information and only vague knowledge of what lies ahead. After all, it would not be a decision if the best option were obvious.

Finally, I am approaching 10 days left in Kyrgyzstan. Today is a national holiday and an excellent reminder of why I will be relieved to arrive home (with no regrets). (It Would Seem) Everyone in Kyrgyzstan has a family. Everyone has plans. Everyone in Kyrgyzstan has plans with their family.

I confess to being tired of being an observer.

But I know that my affinity for Abroad will continue to stretch me between some sense of "home" somewhere in the US and the sense of personal growth I get from moving out of my comfort zones. I would rather be a little dissatisfied now and then than comfortable and bored.

A Bump and a Bleet

With the spring weather and the prospect of returning home on the horizon, I have been trying to get out of Bishkek.

This weekend, the weather looked good and we decided to go climbing. there were six of us. A French couple biking from France to Nepal, Christine (French Alpine Fund volunteer and host to the couple), a British English teacher, Colin (American boyfriend to Christine and Alpine Fund volunteer) and myself met Saturday morning at a round about.

After a frustrating if predictable discussion about the merits of taxis vs. a mashrootka we found ourselves compelled to get into a van. By compelled I mean that all of that taxi drivers sort of started yelling and urging us to get into the car. The first thing I noticed was a bad smell coming from the car. The second thing I noticed was that there were 3 sheep in the back. The driver told us "just throw your stuff in the back." We gingerly put the packs on the sheep and squeezed into one row of seats.

There was no time be cranky about safety.

As we sped and bounced our way up into the mountain valley the sheep remained calm and collected. Then we swerved around a machine pulling up asphault. The back opened up.

Said I, "Excuse me, your door has opened"

"ehhhe, the door opened, yes?"

"Hey mate, I think this sheep is going to fall out," stated my British colleague.

"Yeah, it is open." I assumed that would be enough information.

We drove on.

"You might want to stop."

"This sheep is definitely going to go"

"Your sheep will fall out if you don't stop"

Unphased, our driver pressed onward.

"And there is goes," I looked behind and there was a sheep, legs tied and one of our backpacks on the road.

"Stop. Your sheep fell. Oi, stop." I urged to no avail. The driver remained unconvinced. Then all of us yelled at him at once and he finally stopped the van. I guess he really didn't want to stop. He only seemed to do it because it might shut us up.

They heaved the sheep in with a THUNK. and slammed the rear door several times as the sheep bleeted. Finally, the door remained shut. All of the bags were unloaded but somehow mine got missed. As the driver pulled away I yelled. Then I banged on the side of the van. Then I opened the door. Only when I had seated myself in the moving vehicle and asked him for the sixth time to stop did he finally yield. Here was a man who really didn't like to stop.

It is possible that his Russian (or mine) was really so bad that we were having a communication impasse. But "stop" is something that everyone has to learn to say to get around Bishkek and I have not met anyone yet with such bad Russian. I maintain that this was a man who really did not like to stop.

During the hike to the canyon we greeted an old man. He said "what nazis." I stopped and asked him what he was talking about.

"Oi, you're not Russian!" he said in Russian.

"No, I am American, he is british and those guys are French." I left Colin out because he was standing with the French folks.

"Oi, that's great. Nevermind."

The climbing was great. It rained at least half the night and my bivy passed it's second test. We had interesting conversations about traveling and how everyone seems to not appreciate the American government. The French couple leave for Kazakhstan tomorrow where they will not have to to through a friend of the Chinese consulate to pay a bribe for a Chinese visa.

Cranky About Safety

Spring weather feels like it is here to stay now in Kyrgyzstan. Day by day the weather has been warming. Today was t-shirt weather. The change in people’s moods is my favorite part. Everyone get very explicably happy.

I received good news on Wednesday. The Ellison School for Russian, Eastern European, and Central Asia Studies (REECAS) at the Jackson School of International Studies (JSIS) at the University of Washington (UW) invited me to join their musing, yammering lot. At first I was unconvinced. But I tried to look at the situation logically. If as an undergrad I pursued International Political Economy at the University of Puget Sound than studying something like Comparative Sociology at the Ellison School for Russian, Eastern European and Central Asian Studies at the Jackson School of International Studies at the University of Washington is surely the next step. Just compare the abbreviations: IPE at UPS and Csoc at REECAS at JSIS at UW. The swelling tide of multi-syllabic words (that can now compose multi-syllabic acronyms) clearly indicates that I am moving up in the world of social studies.

Do you ever go a long way for a concept that seemed funny but then it’s really not all that funny at the end? Yeah, me neither.

There was a almost-terrible almost-incident at the climbing wall yesterday. A man with his 2 year old kid wandered in (the wall is at a sort of indoor running track). While one friend and I were setting up, he decided to try once. He climbed probably four meters up. His sun stood directly underneath him and watched. I gave it the old open-palmed slap on the forehead in astonishment of the man’s irresponsibility (for himself but especially his son’s). He came back down with out incident. During the next 45 minutes three other climbers came, we climbed and the man and his son wandered around the facility and watched us in turns.

I was climbing at this point. The man came back to the wall. He started up a little bit, as curious people are apt to do. No one else spoke any Russian and did not think anything of it as passers by often try to boulder at the bottom of the while fairly frequently when they see us climbing. Then he climbed a little higher, say 2 meters off the ground. As the ground is concrete below the wall, this is the “I am not sure I would do that, but…” point. This wall was slightly more technical than the first one he tried. He promptly pushed right passed that height. At about 4 meters I noticed that him and came off the wall. Around that time he learned the blind climb dilemma. That is, it is almost universally easier and safer to go up something than to go down it. So then he got worried and climbed a little higher. Then he realized he was screwed.

He froze, he head about 20 feet above the ground. His son once again watching from directly underneath him until we moved him. There was nothing that we could do for him; once he is on the wall any attempt to help is only going to compromise his balance. He was very lucky that some Kyrgyz guys happened to be playing a native game (similar to marbles but with sheep bones). They came over and coaching him down. By the time he started to come down his legs and arms were shaking from exhaustion and/or fear. But he got down, clapped his hands and smiled sheepishly. “Ha, ha. That really got the heart going.” My head and heart will still turning with memories from the broken back last summer and the first steps for assessing and treating various dramatic injuries.

He made it down safely, I would say barely. I was pretty upset. I am very unimpressed with the machismo in South America, Russia and Kyrgyzstan. The reason we never chided him the first time is because one quickly learns that advice which could be conceived of as questioning one’s manly prowess and courage is poorly received. I had assumed that once demonstration of incompetence would suffice for the day. Never underestimate the things people are willing to do to entertain delusions of pride in nation, religion and gender identity.

The “it’s my life, I’ll do what I want” is hard to penetrate but really it’s a load of crap. It’s your life and you’ll deal with the consequence until it is a problem that you are unable to cope with and then it becomes the problem of professionals, your family and strangers. And when your kid is watching from a position where IF you screw up, he’ll break your fall (all 30 pounds of him), well then you are just an idiot. And the issue is that because the machismo argument seems to hold for single-independent men then it spills over into every part of society. No one wears seat belts and legitmate concerns about health or safety are dismissed as being whiny. And as a result more people end up dead and crippled by car accidents and work place accidents. While the individual may pay the brunt of the suffering, the family and society and a whole also ends up taking up the slack. It would be inhumane not to.

I was most sickened to watch bad decision-making being passed on between father and son without an apparent twinge of self-reproach.

As a visitor with a heavy tongue, I get used to largely playing the part of passive observer. In fact, I actively try not to project my values and ways of doing things onto the people and places I go. That is the point, to second guess the way things are ‘always done’ back home. This incident made me question how far that amnesty for cultural difference should go.

It is easy to see how cranky-‘bout-safety outdoors old-timers get that way. They are like that because enough misses and near misses eventually pierce the adolescent assumption of adventuresome invulnerability.

Next time, I will definitely say something the first time.

Karakol

Karakol means darkhand in Kyrgyz. Lonely Planet postulates that this is because the soil is fertile there and dark there. It is in the northeast corner of Kyrgyzstan.

A had a few quintessential solo traveling moments. The first was on the marshrootka out to Karakol. I read most of the way. There is not much else to do on 6 hour rides on bumpy roads. About 2/3 of the way there conversation must have petered-out among the young and restless in the van and I started catching words like "ihnastranitz," "chitat'" and "ni ponimayet" (foreigner, read, doesn't understand) followed by rounds of boyish giggling and expectant nervous silence. After a couple of awkward-glances complete with foolish but good-natured smile, I piped up. They were very nice. One of them invited me to his house, or his grand parents' house, rather, to sleep. I had expected the ride to be 4 instead of eight hours and it was dark and definitely not the tourist season. After he insisted that it would be great, I accepted.

His family was not really in to the surprise guest. They were very welcoming, however, as a matter of duty if not of pleasure. I tried to shrink. The next day I found a ride up to the mountains and got out of their hair. I gave them some tea and cookies. I had to do something but I thought trying to offer money would be inappropriate if not insulting as the son had invited me.

Skiing was great. First day of downhill in some 7 years or so for me I think. All of the lifts are T-bars or worse. There is no parallel in the states so I will explain. It is an iron tow rope and you get a rope with a hook on one end and a wooden-dealy on the other. You put the hook on the rope and hold on to the wooden thing and away you go. There was a third lift that was sort of like a T-bar but with just a little circle for your crotch to squeeze. 3 lifts, 3 designs. All of them kinda crappy.

I got to spend the day zipping along with a doctor, who became my line-waiting conversation buddy. He is a traumatologist (because he likes screwing bones and stapling tissues) and makes US$ 100/mo. So he has to teach as well. Pretty amazing. He lamented the corruption but it seems pretty inevitable when people make so little. People have to pay to get extra attention or special treatment, not to mention the bribes the doctors themselves pay in med school. I figured a traumatologist might buck the trend of not wearing seat belts. I was wrong. "Ha ha! Of course not! It's my business and no one else's." Yeah, I guess. Despite the illiberal Big Brotherism of it all sometimes it seems wise to have Big Brother make society change self-destructive attitudes. About half of the time I half left the city on bad weather days I have seen a bad accident. You can bet that no one (not even kids) were wearing seat belts. Having dealt with the consequences of that "it's my business" attitude last summer, I don't much sympathize.

The people I got a ride with were Russians from Kazakhstan. They didn't have much interest in me. They didn't even play the what do you do where do you work, what are your plans game. So I guess I win by default. They did ask, "Why do all you [American, Europeans] come here anyway?" I wasn't sure whether not to be amused or offended. There was subtext to the question but I am not sure which it was. A couple of the more likely possibilities are "Only Russians should be in Central Asia" and "Why would anyone visit somewhere backwards and poor when you could go to Breckenridge?" I was really baffled by the use of "all you" which was repeated when I asked what they meant. Anyway, I asked "why not?" it seemed like the safest play.

The finally classic moment was the drunken man on the bus. The bus added 2 more hours of pleasure but cost 1.50 less. I will spare all the inglorious details of the gripe session but he was very talkative and very drunk. Aside from insisting I visit (in 10-20 years if not this time) he was very excited that I might buy him some Colgate toothpaste his aching tooth. Alcoholism is dumb.

It is hard to know when to be patient and when to be firm with people of infirm mental constitution.

I have to say that all the experiences were very unplanned and undiluted, which is the way things go, for better and for worse, when you go it alone.

One of the funny mentality things people seem to have over here (I experienced it in Russia too) is concern and moderate dismay when you reveal that you are traveling alone. Dependence can be more acceptable than independence but people also think it is dangerous. The second count I find ironic because people will speed past giant truck on narrow two lane roads in sleet, going around a bend (to the left), with a mountain obscuring their view of oncoming traffic, on the crest of a hill but seem to think their streets are filled with drunken serial killers.

I am trying to figure out the future, as always. Do old people spend as much of the last 23 years of their life looking back as I have spent looking forward? It seems very silly and I try not to overdo it. How much stability and how much change and flexibility do I need to create the most happiness? I don't know but fortunately many of my friends are groping similar questions. I take great comfort in the insecurity of a group while individual insecurity is very trying.

There is the grad school possibility. But I am not sure where that leads exactly. And there is the need to balance the challenge by choice of wilderness trips and the introspective potential of independent (abroad?) living with the richness of drawing on long term intimate relations with family and friends.

I think that the freedom of action presented to young bourgeoisie Americans presents both a source of inspirational potential and a terrifying burden. The burden is a moral obligation to all those whose circumstances in life are dictated to them to make the most of the tremendous opportunities afforded us to affect the world for the better.

If privileged young people will not, who will?

So we must choose to challenge ourselves. Because it is our choice, it is our responsibility.

It is like Spiderman's Uncle Ben said, "with great power comes great responsibility."