I love the dark hours of my being.
My mind deepens into them.
There I can find, as in old letters,
the days of my life, already lived,
and held like a legend, and understood.

Then the knowing comes: I can open
to another life that's wide and timeless.

So I am sometimes like a tree
rustling over a gravesite
and making real the dream
of the one its living roots
embrace:

a dream once lost
among sorrows and songs.

I'm not much of a poetry reader, but I rather liked this.

Classes went smoothly today. In the afternoon the students were to meet with their language coaches at 2:00, but the majority of them did not realize this. Minor mess: I had assumed that the person who did most of the scheduling would inform the students of the schedule, and she, on the other hand, assumed that I had sent them a schedule that she had compiled but that I did not receive. (I'll double check. I don't think I received it. If I did, I will be abashed.) Anyway, it's clear that it is the better part of caution for me to micromanage communications on both our sides for now. Can do. It makes me laugh, though. The Russians have a proverb «Первый блин — комом», which means “The first crepe comes out like a dirt clod”; that is, the first time you do something, things come out poorly. It applies here. Still, on the whole, the first week went fairly well, and I am favorably impressed by the adaptability of the current academic coordinator here to deal with those things. I'll have to think of some gift to give her; something sufficiently minor to not be embarrassing, but sufficiently nice to say that her work is appreciated, and sufficiently neutral for her not to think that I am coming on to her. (She is sufficiently young that she would probably not think that, but my previous experience in Russia makes me want to be cautious in that regard.)

In the afternoon while walking home, I decided to explore a side street whose shops had signs I couldn't quite make out. Crossing over I spotted at a coffee shop two familiar faces from our local school. They waved and shouted a hello, so I stopped to chat. Sam and William have been here a month studying Russian. Sam is a grad student and about to head home, and William has another month. The conversation was fascinating. Both concurred that on the whole their time with our local partner had been very good. Very encouraging, that.

On the other hand, they made me much more worried about the local police. Each time a policeman walked by, they stopped talking in English. I asked whether someone had officially made that suggestion to them, and they said no, that their own experience and the local experience of others had suggested the approach. We were seated outside, with Sam and William next to a wall covered with windows. I was seated with my back to the sidewalk, which meant that I could see the traffic behind me clearly in the reflection of the windows. The longer we sat, the more often it seemed that policemen walked by. Eventually there was a moment where four policemen stood some distance behind us. Sam and William commented to the effect that the police were definitely checking us out, and my own observations in the reflections of the window completely supported that interpretation. Eventually the police walked away. The establishment we were buying coffee from belongs to a proprietor from New Zealand, and I rather wonder if that fact, combined with the fact that we were merely sitting down drinking coffee and water, perhaps made them think we weren't quite the optimal target.

This was an odd sensation. I've never once worried about the police and the potential need to bribe them in Russia. Back home in the States I never worry about the police. Why would they hassle me if I'm not doing something wrong? But wages are so low in KG that the police apparently try to supplement their income with bribery.

So what exactly is the average yearly wage in KG? It sounds like a simple question, but economic questions of this type are in fact never simple. A recent NPR article suggests that the country's average annual income is $3,400. UNECE statistics quoted in one Wikipedia article suggest $5,100. With numbers like that you can imagine the temptation for poorly paid people to do things that strike one as immoral.

I may now have to rethink my advice to our local students. These kids, though kids relative to me, are still adults. Most likely I need to simply give them the full data as I currently have it, give my own suggestions, and let them come to their own conclusions.

I am entirely delighted that Wynter's baggage has been delivered to her here in Bishkek. I'm quite pleased because it is only 28 hours since I sent my first e-mail to Turkish Airlines, which needed the paperwork I sent them in PDF form. It is about the same time frame since Wynter herself approached the local representative of Turkish airlines, and rather longer since Wynter's mother approached Delta about this by phone. Perhaps Wynter's mother's pro-activeness was primary in resolving the issue; I believe it was she who obtained the proper form. I like to think I had a hand in it since my e-mail seemed to produce the first official response from TA. But perhaps it was Wynter's visit to the TA office. Impossible to say, of course. The important thing is that she has her luggage. BTW, I am also quite impressed with Wynter herself since she dealt with the situation with calmness and a complete lack of whining. I have nothing but respect for that.

The interesting thing is this. Delta actually doesn't have an official agreement about dealing with such situations with Turkish Airlines, specifically the situation where a bag was not properly checked through the final destination. Indeed, for reasons that don't bear repeating her, Wynter had been directed to only take a carry-on to Bishkek, and Delta had unexpectedly demanded that the bag be checked at plane-side. Nonetheless, both Delta and TA worked to deliver the bag.

I think this speaks well of the human desire for general rationality, as opposed to always being bound by nothing but the letter of contracts or legislation. This is an attitude we want to foster. Justice, compassion and rationality are the best ways for us to interact with most of our fellow human beings.

Yesterday Kyrgyzstan had its second reading of a bill that would effectively outlaw saying good things about gay relationships, and today in the US the Supreme Court effectively legalized gay marriage across all 50 states.

Myself, I consider the US event a triumph of freedom of speech. The fact that both sides of the issue could be heard and discussed and weighed and refuted was what made it possible to overcome centuries of misunderstanding. The fact that many gay people came out to their families made it possible to put an individual face on what people used to think of as a monster. The fact that many did so publically made it possible not just for families but for society at large to see the same thing.

For the US and the world Friday was a very good day indeed.

Our Saturday trip out of town was cancelled due to rains in the mountains that prevent hiking, so our students have a free weekend, which means I do as well. That meant I could go to the Orto-Sai bazaar, a major fruit and vegetable market surrounded by booths that sell a thousand other things. I successfully found towels and an extension cord that were my major shopping goals. In the middle of this third-world looking place was a hole-in-the-wall pastry place that had pastries as beautiful as any I've seen anywhere. I bought a chocolate thing that was pretty damn tasty.

A quick stop home had me dropping off my purchases, and thence it was time to go to the bank. On the way I bumped into Sam and William again. William, sad to say, is probably going to depart early. He had a bad experience with a homestay where the family was rather anti-American and even had the temerity to once feed him food that the family itself refused to eat. He moved out into an apartment three days ago. The first he was chomped on by клопыт bed begs. The landlord fumigated with a vinegar preparation, as if that would get rid of those determined critters. William stayed away for 24 hours so the fumigation could be completed. Last night he slept on the couch. More bedbug bites. Pretty serious bites, let me tell you. It bugs him enough that he will probably head home Monday.

Sam and William also gave some additional comments about the various teachers, specifically that the Kyrgyz teachers didn't correct their errors as much as the native Russians, and also that some of the teachers didn't even present endings correctly in table format, which is pretty essential for foreigners for the grammatical side of things. I start my class observations on Monday, so I'll keep my eyes open for that. My experience is that lower-level students don't always correctly evaluate their instructors, so I'm taking their words with a grain of salt. They also said that of all the school's teachers, Dasha was acknowledged as by far the best. My experience is that sometimes lower-level students highly rank teachers that don't push them too hard. Alas, Dasha is not on our teacher list, so I can't watch for that.

On the way home I stopped a my favorite cafe. I asked the waiter about some things I saw sold on the street whose name I couldn't remember, which turned out to be kurút курут, salty cheese balls that have been dehydrated. I've tried them before, didn't want to eat them again, but I did want to know the word. My waiter insisted I try some since they had just received a fresh delivery. I tried to say no. No success. He brought five marble-sized samples. Wow. To my surprise, these are a lot better than the nasty things I had tried once in Kathleen's office. The taste, frankly, was almost identical to nacho cheese Doritos. I'm not a beer fan, but I can see people consuming them with beer.