Things Aren't Always as They Seem

I have done my fair share of boasting lately.

“I have a housekeeper who washes and irons everything for $15 a week!”

“I don’t have to work outside the home!”

“I lost 10 pounds!”

Two years ago, given this vision of my life, I would have seen this as the most stress-free I could imagine. Now that I’m here living it I see how that sneaky stress worms its way into the most blissful of existences.

I did not expect or even hope for stress free living in Uzbekistan, but I did expect a lot less without the responsibilities of teaching every day.

Last Monday started out nice until Doug and I were about to walk out the door and I could not find my badge to enter the Embassy. (In all, I have two passports - one diplomatic, one tourist plus copies - an accreditation card, an "I don't speak Russian; go easy on me because I'm with the Embassy" card, and my Embassy badge to keep track of.)

During my piano teaching years I lost something roughly once a day. It infuriated me. I often went ballistic (not publicly). It affected me as well as everyone around me, especially Doug. I hated it. It really affectred me deeply. This morning I awoke from a dream that I lost my purse on a Tashkent metro. I was really wound up inside even though I knew it was a dream. Since we moved to Virginia, that has all but ceased. It has been like a new life and I have relished it.

The morning I could not find my badge I expected those old feelings to come rushing back. They did, but I did not react as emotionally as I did previously. I was confident of where I last had it and where it may be. Long story short: I found my badge within a half hour. Problem solved. Except the viruses of worry, defeat and failure were crawling around in me.

The next thing that happened was I went to the Community Liaison Office to purchase Halloween party tickets. While I was there the woman in charge shared her concern of my storytelling in English since there would be so many Russian and Uzbek speaking children attending. She thought that perhaps a translator would be a good idea. I froze. I don’t speak good enough Russian to do storytelling and yet to tell with a translator would take hours of practice to make sure it flowed smoothly. I walked away worried that my first impression in storytelling would be mediocre if they insisted on a translator. I also felt that backing out would give me an equally bad reputation as would digging in my heels and proclaiming “My way or the highway!”

The worms were crawling in and out and around my mind and heart.

I headed for the gym.

I tried to calm myself by simply looking at the facts. I had my badge; it was misplaced, not lost. All I was obligated to do was to keep my word and tell spooky stories at the Halloween party. I was prepared for that. I am capable of negotiating and these people are reasonable. It was this prayer that really helped. I have been praying it for a month or so now. Some of you may be familiar with a scriptural passage that lists the fruits of the spirit: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness and self-control. I add a few of my own: mercy, pity, empathy. I ask God to help me to live in, practice, develop, reflect and demonstrate each of these (where appropriate) as a first, automatic response to everything that comes my way in my thoughts, words and deeds. That’s a tall order but I think God can handle it.

Lastly, when I got home, I sat down to write instead of grabbing a book to escape. I wrote to you, my few faithful readers because it truly gives me great pleasure. It is difficult (especially since I raised the bar and promised pictures and, hopefully, audio - which I can't figure out yet) but it is extremely rewarding in the process and accomplishment as well as in each and every rare comment I receive from you. Thank you.

Lately I have had a few recurring dreams with a twist. I often have dreamed of driving in a car and, as I drive, the car mutates into a skateboard, say, or an animal. It gets more and more difficult to drive and make forward progress. Last night my car turned into a shopping cart which began to fall apart when I had to cross a rickety passage of some sort. What was different last night was there was a woman nearby who came over and helped me carry my shopping cart across the passage.

There are many people who like to interpret dreams. Some would say my driving the car is my making my way through life and its paths. Others would say it is analogous to my sexuality and waking sex life. Hmmm. Let's work with the former interpretation, shall we? I look at this dream and see that, while I am moving along in my life and things get difficult, I can depend on and even expect help from the Embassy community here in Tashkent. That’s comforting. Carl Jung had a theory that every character in your dream was a facet of your own persona. Therefore I could see this dream as my figuring out how to help myself.

I regularly dream of being in a bathroom and people can see me. There is either no door or someone has come in on me. These dreams are very upsetting. I get enraged at the people who won’t leave me in private. I'm embarrassed. Well, I just had a dream in which I needed to use a public bathroom and there was a long line. I went away for a while then returned. The line was still long. It was then that I noticed that there was another side to the bathroom with several empty stalls. I went to the first one; there was no lock on the door. I went to the second one; the lock was misaligned and wouldn’t secure the door. I went to the third; the door closed but left about a five inch gap between the door and wall. On and on this seemed to go until I decided to skip it.


I like that, in that dream, I was more in control. Hopefully that’s a good reflection on my life right now. Outwardly, it doesn’t seem like I’m in control. I have to depend on others for transportation, translation, advice, directions and all sorts of things. Inwardly, however, I am holding up well. I may fall to pieces for a few minutes (this has happened twice, both times in the morning first thing on a Monday) but I get myself in the gym on the elliptical and start praying and within the hour, I’m fine.

And my dreams remind me of how much I miss you. About two weeks ago I dreamed that I was in St. Paul for two days. I was frantically working out a way to see everyone in that short amount of time. That, of course, was impossible so I was mixed with feelings of elation in seeing some of my friends and regret in missing out on my only chance to visit with some of you. I think that is close to what is going on within me. I am glad of this opportunity; I love my life. I'm also a little uneasy. A future post will tell you exactly what I miss (and do not miss) about living in our United States of America.

Don't You Dare Pinch Me

Lately my life has seemed too good to be true. I keep waiting for that something to happen. I am living a life relatively few people get a real chance to live. I have the support of my friends and family back home as well as my new friends here in the Embassy community. There are a few times in my life that I can bring to mind where everything came together just for a moment or two and I was overly ecstatic with joy. So much so in some cases I had to get away - it was too good for me to take for long. I'm there. But now I've learned to revel in it. And I'm learning to spread it around while I'm here.

A view of our entryway from the living room. Sorry about the crooked camera. I'm trying.

There are stages of welcoming. Just as a house (like ours in Tashkent) can have an immediate

entryway before being in the main body of the house, so can an arrival to a new country. When Doug and I arrived in Tashkent we were jet lagged. But it was Monday - a work day for Doug. So we dropped off our luggage at the house and headed for the Embassy. (They let me accompany him on the first day to meet people and tour the Embassy.) This was akin to walking in from a storm into someone's house and taking off your coat, hat and boots and saying hello.

Initially, you are made as comfortable and welcome as possible. People are very accommodating. You are given the best seat in the house. You are served a drink and some fancy appetizers to comfort you. Some preliminary small talk is made as you relax into your new surroundings with the folks who are there. You sit and look around. Maybe you are even given a tour of the house. That first Monday in Tashkent, we met with the Charge d'affaire as there is currently no Ambassador. We also met with Doug's boss, the heads of Security and Human Resources and the Medical Officer. We were given a tour and were briefly introduced to many more people. I remember immediately feeling a part of the mission in Tashkent rather then "just a spouse". I like that they take my presence here as seriously as I do even though I do not, will not (in a box, with a fox) work in the Embassy.

Our living room.

After all the niceties are over it's time to get down to the purpose of the visit - dinner, a game or a meeting. Doug, of course, went right to work Tuesday finding his way around the systems and hallways. I started a routine of walking to the Embassy with him in the morning in order to exercise. I return later for lunch with him. The first couple of weeks I spent a lot of time in the Community Liaison Office. They have a computer there I used to access e-mail and my blog while we awaited Internet connection at our house. They are also the social pulse point of Embassy Life. I decided right away to say yes to (almost) everything then eventually pair down to what I really want to do. I have joined the Tashkent Women's International Group. (I am one of only two or three Americans in this group. I am one of the very few American-born spouses in the Embassy. There's an old joke that you can tell a Foreign Service's Officer's first post by the nationality of his/her spouse.) I signed up for Russian lessons which I have one hour a day, five days a week. This is my priority right now. I want more time for writing but if I don't learn Russian I don't stand a chance of leaning Uzbek folktales or sharing our folktales with local people here.

Our dining room. The furniture is quite nice. The fireplace is wood burning. The mess on the table is my Russian homework. I was unwilling to pick it up and rearrange it for this photo!

When you have an extended visit sooner or later you have to pitch in and help. You may be company, but you are not served as often and you have to wash some dishes. Doug and I have signed up to help out with the Halloween party. I am telling spooky stories and Doug is roasting hot dogs. (The food is great here, but I can't wait to have a hot dog!) I have written a couple of articles for Uz News, the Embassy newsletter and plan to write more. The first was on our trip to Nukus; the second was about a hiking trip I went on. We are hosting a meeting at our house for the General Services Officers in a week or so. I have no idea what I'm going to do for that since, at this point we don't have our own transportation and there are only tiny convenience marts and a fruit/vegetable stand within walking distance.

So I go along here hoping I don't wake up; hoping no one pinches me. Every Wednesday Irina comes to clean our house. I was against this on the principle that I'd wind up spoiled. But when I found out that she cleans everything, washes our clothes and linens, irons for $15/week I broke down. And she's sweet. She does not speak English which left me a bit distraught the first week but now I appreciate the extra help and practice with my Russian skills.

Saturday morning Doug and I are going on a Tashkent tour. Saturday night we are having dinner with Doug's boss and his wife. Monday I am attending a tea with the spouses of the Embassy employees. Sometimes I feel like it's too cushy. Then I walk by that dining room table and see the Russian cards strewn and I remember what I must do. I honestly love both the social life and the study life. They are both difficult; they both give me headaches. They both give me a prideful feeling and are rewarding.

Busy being unemployed

My year in Virginia was the first year of my adult life I didn't work a paying job. I loved it and kept busier than I thought I would. I accomplished alot and stayed pretty disciplined. I began being concerned that when I got to Tashkent I would relax too much and start sitting around. That's not happening and there are a few reasons for that.

The first reason is our social sponsor, Jennifer. Jennifer has invited us to more lunches and dinners than I can count. She had game night at her house which we went to and she took us to a bazaar to shop. Whenever we ride with her she acts as a tour guide pointing out landmarks to help us navagate the city and find our way home, good restaurants, suspicious restaurants and good hotels. Everyone really looks out for each other to make sure you aren't too lonely or bored.

Another reason is my friend, Alexandra who I met in Virginia. She took the liberty of signing me up for EVERYTHING. Thanks to Alexandra I have attended the Tashkent Tennis Open, had lunch at the Charge d'affair's home, and joined the Tashkent Women's International Group.

I go the Embassy with Doug in the mornings and exercise for an hour. After that I come home and clean up then go right back to the Embassy or one hour of private Russian lessons with Milana, a very patient woman. I am supposed to learn all the new words I was exposed to that day for the next day's lesson so some of my time throughout the day is study time. I am also able to get in plenty of writing time. Right now I'm working on a ghost story for Douglas for Halloween.

Doug and I plan on taking advantage of all the excursions the Community Liason Office at the Embassy offers. This past weekend we went to Nukus and Moynok - a port city during the days of the former Aral Sea. I'll share a brief story about the fate of the Aral Sea but if you're really interested it's worth looking up. Uzbekistan has always been an agricultural country with cotton being the main crop. The problem is that Uzbekistan is desert and water is difficult to get for crops. They saw two major rivers flowing into the Aral Sea and decided to divert one of them to use as water for crops. Eventually the Sea bean to dry up. It is not entirely gone, but it has shrunk to only 10% of its original size. There remains there a "ship graveyard" and a vast expanse of dry, cracked low vegetation bearing land. It's quite sobering and sad. Those who think the actions of mankind cannot affect the earth that much need to read about the Aral Sea. I wrote up a short article about our trip for the Embassy newsletter, "Uz News".

I am, perhaps, writing this entry prematurely as there are many things I plan on doing but have not yet done. This includes volunteering to do storytelling at the local international school. I look forward to leading a "Chai Chat". A "Chai Chat" is a gathering at the Embassy for local students to hear English, learn something about the United States and practice their English speaking skills. I plan on telling some stories and getting them involved in some storytelling. I really want to get out, meet local residents and learn some Uzbek folklore. My Russian skills must be much better before I can do that. One of the men who works with Doug - a foreign national - heard that I want to learn Uzbek folktales so he told me about a Russian language collection of them that is out of print but he said I may be able to find it at a used bookstore. Three days later he handed me a copy as a gift. These are good, caring people.

I am trying to take my position here as seriously as Doug takes his Embassy job. I am, after all, living off taxpayer money and those of you who know THAT side of me know how important it is to me that taxes are used smartly. Those of you who don't know that side of me - you don't want to. I feel a personal accountability to you for my time here and I will keep you posted as to my progress and experiences.

I came here to learn Uzbek folktales but, as I look at my situation I realize that, since this is our first post I think my real goal is experience.

I got some experience on the trip watching some Kazakh school children picking cotton and wanting their pictures taken with us. (In the picture to the left is my friend Alexandra and her husband, Terry, with a few of the children we met.) I experienced eating lunch in a yurt (a felt covered mobile home shaped like an igloo but kind of tee-pee like). I experienced in Uzbek art. Islam does not allow depictions of living things so their art is either thinly disguised people and animals or landscapes and still life. As we drove the two and a half hours to Moynoq we'd occasionally see a man squatting at the side of the road. This aroused my curiosity as there were no structures in sight. (See the above picture of the dry Aral Sea bed - the land we drove through didn't look that much different.) Where did he come from? Where was he going? How would he get there? There is a whole different world of experiences here for me.

After the roadtrip and staying in my first Uzbek hotel and seeing the yurt I was heartened that upon returning to our house here in the compound I felt like I was coming home.