Monday, May 31, 2010

Reunited . . .

. . . and it feels so good! Yes, I'm back in Laos again with my 'muzh' (that's husband in Russian). I don't think I ever mentioned how many people I run into in Laos who know Russian . . . most of them studied in the former Soviet Union. Laos had tight connections with the Soviets and the Russians still maintain an active embassy here that has it's own Russian school. Just the other day I was attending one of Joe's workshops; after chatting with the Lao counterpart from the US Embassy, I found that he had studied Russian. I whipped out my language book and he started reading the cyrillic out loud. He admitted that it had been a while since he had used it.

So, I made it back to Laos without a glitch except that the first leg of my flight from Dnipropetrovsk to Vienna was canceled when I got to the airport. Apparently, the "owner of the airport refuses to let Austrian Air land on his airstrip due to political reasons" according to an Austrian Airlines representative. So, after quickly downing a Kwell's (motion sickness pill), I boarded a mini-bus for Zaparozhye, the place I had visited with the students and teachers the weekend before. After quick goodbyes to my new friends Irina and Natalie, the mini-bus kicked into gear to shuttle to the airport where the flight was really taking off from. I had some good conversation with my bus companions, engineers from Washington, DC who were contracting the manufacture of rockets in Dnipropetrovsk (DP). DP had been completely closed until only 15 years ago due to it's nuclear, weapons, and space research and manufacture. Now the US Government contractors are getting much of their design and assembly done here due to the long-standing Ukrainian expertise and low prices. The guys I met were manufacturing rockets to be sent to repair space shuttles (you scientists out there, please correct me if I got that wrong!). Anyhow, it was interesting to hear about something totally foreign to my usual topics of conversation.

Now back in Laos, where Beer Lao is the most successful product manufactured, we are still waiting for the big rains. We are due to go back to the US in less than a month, and as it always happens, the "signs" are starting to pop up that our stay is coming to an end: our favorite restaurant, Vong's, has mysteriously closed a day after raising their prices, someone helped themselves to our bicycles that were sitting on our front porch one Sunday afternoon, my Russian conversation partner has gone back to Uzbekistan for the summer, the fan in our house exploded, and the aircondioner keeps flipping the breaker because it's too hot outside. But the upside is that we got tickets on the same dates on the same flights which is a whole other drawn out story! AND . . . my friend Krissy is coming in a couple of weeks to do some volunteer teaching. I hope to go on a photographic mission with her to get an album of parting shots of Laos.  In the meantime, we are trying to sort, donate, and organize the stuff we're taking back home. It's amazing what you can collect in less than a year!

Friday, May 21, 2010

Monsoon? What Monsoon?

In this part of the world, the monsoon rains mean everything. This is an agrarian culture, and the seasonal rains provide the sustenance for the rice crop and everything else that renews life in Laos . I'm not scientist enough to play the global warming card in this instance, but the monsoon is late this year, the heat is oppressive, and people are suffering from it.

It has been over 100 degrees pretty much every day for weeks and weeks. It's hotter than hell with no respite. I was talking to one of my students this week about the situation.We were sitting outside and chatting before class at 7:50 in the morning...I was mopping my face like Brother Love after a Salvation Show, and beads of sweat stood out on Bounleuam's forehead.

"My parent are farmers. It's terrible for them. Without rain there is nothing."

I can only imagine. Working in a rice field or herding buffalo, I'd be clinically dead in 90 minutes, tops. The humidity climbs each day without any corresponding drop in temperature. Han lai...freaking hot, dude.

Today it rained a bit in the afternoon and when I went down the street to eat dinner this evening, it was sprinkling gently, and the air was remarkably cool and fresh.
Hallelujah! I was taking in huge gulps of air and waving my arms joyfully - it felt wonderful.

The monsoon is not here yet because we haven't had a kickass, barnburning, streetflooding storm yet - not even close. I ask the locals, "When is it going to start raining?"

"June", they muse.

"July, maybe".

I really hope it's tomorrow.

Monday, May 10, 2010

How I passed “Feis control”


 

 

 
Feis kontrol: a Russian klub colloquialism of the English words "face control." Your "face" is your level of wealth, beauty, power, social standing, and overall desirability. Feis kontrol is the power of the velvet rope, originally referring to the surly bouncers at the most exclusive Moscow klubs. It can literally refer to club door personnel, or it can be used figuratively to refer to some ideal social arbiter. (http://www.urbandictionary.com/)

 
From Laos to Ukraine is a pretty big jump . . . and although I’ve been here before, I find that the leap from the mellow land of smiles to the fast-paced oblasts of growing consumerism . . . well, “a leap”. Don’t get me wrong, it is great to be able to be here in Dnipropetrovsk (what some call Ukraine's second city next to Kyiv), go into a cosmetics store, supermarket, or clothing store and buy what you want (or at least approximately). Ironically, I am teaching university economics and management students – we are watching Michael Moore’s “Capitalism – A Love Story” as part of the course. In the three years since I’ve been here, I think Ukraine’s own love affair has become more passionate. Frequenting the 2 new-fangled malls, McDonald's, and "ahem" nightclubs is everpopular. The upside is that customer service has really improved, the post office has an English option on the automated take-a-number machine, the pizza restaurant is entirely non-smoking, and public drinking has been banned in the city center.

 

 
I’m here working on teacher development and content-based instruction at a university, but due to May holidays, I’ve been able to get out a lot. I have to admit that the teachers and students have seen to it that every moment of my time is spoken for. In the last 2 1/2 weeks I think I have done more than during any entire year of my life. It could be that my “little” Russian is going a “long” way. People open up to me, help me, and take care of me. I am amazed. For instance, I have:

 
  • played tennis
  • gone to the gym
  • been to the art museum (where an elderly woman who worked there talked my ear off for 40 minutes before opening time - all in Russian!) and two galleries
  • played air hockey (how did that fun a game ever go out of fashion?)
  • taken a ride on a paddle boat (or a “pedal” boat)
  • been on two walking tours (even one at 5:30 in the morning back to my dorm room)
  • played Russian billiards (very small pockets!)
  • gone bowling
  • spent time at a "dacha" (country home)
  • played basketball ("horse" - remember that one?)
  • played chess (the 12-year-old kicked my butt twice)
  • been ice skating (only fell once and it wasn't my fault)
  • given food to a beggar
  • had visitors from Kyiv take the 6 hour train ride to see me
  • sketched in the park
  • purchased collections of old Soviet movies (I love them!)
  • seen a concert at the Philharmonic Theater (the conductor was something to see)
  • had Russian lessons
  • gotten locked out of my dorm room
  • been stopped by the police (I’m sure it’s because I looked like a Lithuanian/Slovak Unabomber in my red hooded jacket and dark glasses)
  • seen a guy sprayed with mace get arrested outside my window
  • shot a BB gun
  • eaten cotton candy
  • bought a jacket with a fur collar (I didn’t realize it till after I paid; It dawned on me to ask the woman if the collar was real . . . she said, “Da, krolik (rabbit)” – I looked disappointed – she chuckled and said, “You greenpeace?” – I said, “Da”).
  • been to a disco (oh yeah, I guess they are called “night clubs” now)

 
Which brings me to my story about getting into the club, or as much as I hate to say it: face control. They say you should "face" your fears . . . confront them. I guess I should be happy that I immediately passed "age control", i.e. they agreed I was over 18. When Katia (my friend from Kyiv) and I approached the door last Saturday night, the bouncer told us that we couldn't enter as we had worn "krossovki", a.k.a. tennis shoes. I could see that most women who were being allowed the privilege of entering were wearing metallic spandex and spiked heels; our striped Adidas were a giveaway that we hadn't thought ahead. So, as the students who had accompanied us all were "approved", Katia and I headed back to my "dorm room" to change into two pairs of "teacher shoes" (hey, it's all I had!). My brown pair was a roomy fit for Katia, but we wanted to get into this darn club and show them who's boss.

 
We taxied back to the club where our friends were waiting for us. The bouncer decided that the entrance was now closed to women. What the $%@*#!? Aren't nightclubs eager to get as many broads in the door as possible. Hey, Katia is like 21 or something - let her and her "mom" in, would you? So, needless to say, some spindle-y waifs traipsed to the "velvet rope" and were allowed admittance. Time to practice your Russian Jen: Pachemu? (Why?) Ya dumala shto eta vhod bila zakrita dlya devushki? (I thought this entrance was closed to women?) . . . no response, just an effort to fix his view somewhere in the distance to denote surliness as per the urbandictionary definition. Our exasperated friends phoned to the "inside". Contact was made with . . . behold a student who had been at my Friday workshop was a cocktail waitress . . . her chair had collapsed during the seminar and I had helped her back up. Yes - she was our ticket! Ina then called her contact: Mr. Security Man who somehow contacted the thugs at the "rope" and suddenly a heavily accented voice said: You are welcome. After I got over my fit of "that's not fair" . . . I enjoyed a bit of dancing, talking, and drinking a magically appearing free drink from Ina. Thanks Ina for getting me in and allowing me to announce that: I passed "Feis control"!