Assalomu Alaykum! Salamatsyzby! здравствуйте!


Assalomu Alaykum! Salamatsyzby! здравствуйте! Hello!


My name is Kristina and I am a 26-year-old Austrian with a slight obsession with Central Asia and travelling to the more remote parts of the world. Learning a lot (of and about) languages, foreign cultures and trying to gain a better understanding of traditions while teaching German has been my mission in the past years.
Initially, this blog started out as a mere means to inform my friends and family about my life and adventures when I first moved to Tashkent, Uzbekistan. It became a lot more than that to me after realizing that writing helped me to make sense of the strange world surrounding me, to deal with culture shock as well as to help me organize the chaos in my head. My Central Asian adventures haven't ended yet and I am looking forward to entertaining you with some more (crazy) stories from Kyrgyzstan in the very soon future!

I am also a couchsurf host - if you're planning a trip to Naryn, let me know on here and we can take it from there :)

I am always happy to hear from my readers, so please don't hesitate to contact me if you have comments or questions, about travel tips in Central Asia or about life in Uzbekistan and Kyrgyzstan :)

Much love,
Kristina


Freitag, 26. April 2013

How I didn't go to Nukus

Brief warning: This is a fairly long blog post, and it's very detailed. You may regret reading this, but it's still so fresh and the frustration is still there that I couldn't help myself.

Yesterday, I was already planning a new blog instalment on my newest adventures and travels in Uzbekistan. But - and this really shouldn't surprise me anymore - Uzbekistan always finds a(n incredibly nerve-racking) way to spoil your plans.

Two friends of mine (Paci & Pisi) came over to Tashkent not only to visit me, but also to go on an extensive trip within Uzbekistan. While I helped them with planning their itinerary, they were extremely motivated to go to see the remnants of the Uzbek Aral Sea. Despite these trips being extremely expensive, I thought, this is quite handy as seeing the Aral Sea is on my bucket list as well and going on a trip together means to share costs. So, I decided to take two days off and booked a flight to Urgench. Before the actual day of travelling, a lot of research was involved, such as organising in which hotel to stay, which tour operator to choose, which plane to take, how to get to Nukus from Urgench, how and when to get back to Tashkent, and a lot of other related and time consuming issues.

The plan for me was as followed: 
Thursday April 25th: Fly to Urgench (Khiva) and join my friends who were already there, do some sightseeing in Khiva, take a 3-4h bus/taxi to Nukus in the evening
Friday 26th & Saturday 27th: Aral Sea Tour
Sunday 28th: Do sightseeing in Nukus, flight back to Tashkent in the evening.

A little complicated, but pretty straightforward.
Now, this is what really happened: With a little backpack and quite proud of myself for having been able to get up at 5am without snoozing my alarm about a million times, I took a taxi with a chit-chatty taxi driver to the airport. Even the milizia at the airport were surprisingly friendly and I thought, this day is off to a good start! As I entered the airport, however, I could already sense that something may not go as expected when I didn't see my flight on the 'Departures' table. I doublechecked my ticket for time and date and still went to the counter, where a lady told me in non-existant English that "flight cancelled". Great. She brought me to the Airport Manager, who luckily spoke English, and who then explained to me again that the flight was cancelled but that they could put me on another flight to Urgench that night. Well, with my itinerary, going to Urgench in the evening would have been absolutely useless because I needed to be at Nukus early in the morning to go on the Aral Sea tour. I explained that to him and he said, no problem, we change flight to Nukus tonight, no extra charge. I thought, well, I can always see Khiva another time, but at least I'll still be able to do the tour. However, the problem is always this: promising things around here is done very easily and quickly, and it's definitely a cultural thing that things here are always done orally and that people rarely get any sort of written confirmation. This is also something I had to get used to when working here, as there are often issues where people promise you things or discuss something with you on the phone and give you some sort of order, but the promise or information from one person is useless if you talk to another  person about the same issue the next day. I asked him firmly if he could assure me that he would organise a seat for me on the plane that night, and he said he would try. "Trying" wasn't exactly what I was hoping for, but it was all I could achieve for now. Home I went, admittedly a little depressed and annoyed, but after texting Eric about my misfortunes, comforting myself with some hot chocolate and praying that I would be able to fly tonight, I went straight back to bed. 
Eric then told me that, apparently, something similar has happened to Rob who also wanted to fly to Urgench with Aziz, the helpful security guard of the British school who has helped foreigners out numerous times before. Rob was also told that his flight was cancelled and that there were no seats for another early flight to Urgench....until Aziz called someone, pulled a few strings and suddenly they were able to board a plane of which they were told that it was fully booked. Standard Uzbekistan. So I took my chances and called Aziz to ask if he could do the same for me, and after a few hours he called me back to inform me that they have now booked me on the Nukus flight and that I should be at the airport 2 hours beforehand, just to make sure. I was somewhat relieved and was counting the hours until I could finally go on my well-deserved holiday.
I went to the airport, queued at the counter and was told that 1) the flight to Nukus was delayed to 10pm and 2) that I wasn't on it. I started arguing with a different airport manager again, as he was the only person in the entire airport who spoke English, and ended up being close to tears because I didn't get anywhere with it. He could neither put me on the flight, nor tell me what I could do, nor help me out in any other way, but at least he was sympathetic because he saw how desperate I was. He, however, was also extremely busy because of tons of other people like me were pestering him about the delay of the flight. The problem was also that, apparently, they didn't know if the plane to Nukus would be a small or a big one, so that they wouldn't be able to tell me until about 8.30pm if I could be on the flight or not. It was 5pm, so that would have meant 3.5 hours of stupidly waiting around.  I called Aziz again and had him talk to another important-looking but only Uzbek speaking guy on the phone if he could convince him to get me on the flight. That guy promised him that he would personally make sure that I would be. Sounds good, right? Except that this stupid asshole was a fecking liar, as he didn't even know my name and did not have my passport details (and he didn't ask me about them either). You can see from my use of language here the level of annoyance I had reached by that time. 
I sat down for a while and tried to think what I could do. I did not want to give up that quickly, knowing that persistency is what you need in order to achieve what you want in Uzbekistan. So, I called the Aral Sea tour guide to inform him about the situation and inquired if it was possible to still do the tour if I took the flight to Nukus the next morning at 7am. He said that it wouldn't be a problem and that I should just let him know when I have booked my new flight. With some new hopes, I went to the English speaking airport manager again to ask if that was possible, and he said yes, but also said that the Nukus flight that night was now no longer delayed but cancelled. He did, however, lead me to to the ticket selling counter and said I should just try to get on the plane the next morning. He left, and I was able to inform the lady at the counter about my problem in RUSSIAN..obviously it was broken Russian, very basic and I still had to use my hands, but she understood what I was talking about and I am genuinely proud of myself for having managed that situation so well in a language that has only caused me troubles to far. So, I asked if she could book me on the flight to Nukus the next morning. She made a sad face and said that it was fully booked. I asked her again, just to make sure, and she confirmed what she had just told me - again making a sad face. I stood there in pure desperation, rested my head on my arms while leaning on the counter and just thought to myself Das kann einfach nicht wahr sein. An Uzbek guy standing beside me tried to comfort me in Russian, smiled at me and said that we would find a solution. Very sweet, indeed. The lady at the counter then told me that she would keep my passport and ticket, and that maybe things change when I sit down and wait. What?? How should that help? My Russian skills did not suffice here and I didn't understand what she was saying. So, I gave up, and called Nodi if he would come to the airport and help me out. A sweetheart as he is, he came 15 minutes later and confirmed that there were no seats to Nukus left - until Monday. This is it, I thought. There is no way I can get to Nukus. (except going by bus, but that would have taken me 22hours on bumpy roads, and after all that hassle I genuinely wasn't in the mood for that). 
Nodi then asked the lady about reimbursement, and she said that we would have to get a confirmation from the airport manager first that the flight was actually cancelled, and go to the airline's headquarter/travel agency today before it closes. If you don't do it within the day on which it is cancelled, you get 25% less. Honestly, what stupid rule is that? And what did that mean for us? It was 6.45pm, and the travel agency closed at 7pm....Nodi and I raced to the airport manager's counter, boxed a few people aside to get his signature and stamp, and sprinted outside to catch a taxi. Of course the taxi driver took the slowest route possible, and we got there at 7.03pm. There were just closing the doors and it had just started raining, as Nodi and I hurried out of the taxi and pleaded with the security guys to let us in. Luckily, they understood the problem and did so, but the ladies there would refuse to serve us. They did, however, acknowledge that we did try to come in time, and said we could come again tomorrow without having to pay any fines. Another one of those oral promises....
I am meeting Nodi at the travel agency again tonight after work, and I am praying that they will refund me the full amount...

Update: They refunded me the full amount! Good news :)



Dienstag, 23. April 2013

Wortsalate

Eine Entschuldigung vorab, dass ich keine Umlaute verwende, aber ich schreib auf einer russischen Tastatur.

Dieser Post soll eine kurze Zusammenfassung einiger klassischer Fehler sein, die Usbekisch- bzw. Russischmuttersprachler machen, wenn sie Deutsch lernen. Der Grund fuer diesen Post ist einerseits, weil es ziemlich spannend ist auf Interferenzfehler draufzukommen und, andererseits, auch den Einfluss von uralten Lehrbuechern sowie auch kultureller Unterschiede auf die Wortwahl/das Vokabular der Lernenden  zu entdecken. Jeder, der schon einmal Deutsch unterrichtet hat oder viel mit Nichtmuttersprachlern zutun hatte, wird verstehen, dass man seine Studis manchmal total suess findet, weil Aussprache, Fehler oder Formulierungen einfach nur niedlich sind - ja, ein bisschen infantilisierend, aber es ist nunmal so :) Bevor das hier noch jemand falsch versteht, sei auch zu erwaehnen, dass ich im Folgenden nicht laestern moechte - vor allem im Hintergrund einiger der peinlichen Sprachsuenden, die ich selbst bereits im Russischen begangen habe.. Hier also zuerst eine kleine Sammlung an Fehlern, die Ulli und ich im Laufe unserer ziemlich erfolglosen Russischlernkarriere gemacht haben:

1) Ich musste im Unterricht ein Comic beschreiben, wo in einem Bild ein Mann einer Frau Blumen schenkt. Also sagte ich mutig drauf los: он дарит ей дети. (lautmalerisch "on darit jej djeti") Meine Lehrerin fing lauthals an zu lachen und wiess mich auf meinen Irrtum hin. Was ich meinte: "Er schenkt ihr Blumen". Was ich wirklich sagte: "Er schenkt ihr Kinder" - was kann ich denn dafuer, wenn Kinder (дети, djeti) und Blumen (цветы, tsveti) so aehnlich klingen...? :)

2) In Taschkent gibt es einen Fernsehturm (auf Russisch телевишка "televischka", oder so aehnlich), den Ulli und Nodi eines sonnigen Tages besichtigen wollten. Ulli konnte und konnte sich nicht merken, dass es "televischka" und nicht "televischna" hiess. Vischnja heisst naemlich Kirsche. Der Gedanke, zum Taxifahrer "Telekirsche" zu sagen, gab uns wiederholte Lachkraempfe..:)

3) Aufstehen am fruehen Morgen ist schwer, vor allem wenn einem eine Stunde Russisch mit Irina bevorsteht  (eine zweistuendige Tortur, wo auf Russisch auf einen eingeredet und einem keine Chance zum Nachdenken gegeben wird). Besonders Ulli kam nie aus den Federn, und wir schafften es, zu unserer Schande, Irina manchmal fast 20 Minuten warten zu lassen. So fragte ich Nodi eines Tages scherzhalber, wie ich Irina denn  "Ulli ist Schuld" sagen koennte. Aha, auf Russisch also Ульрике виноват  "Ulrike vinovat". Als die Phrase wieder aktuell wurde, kam dann die Frage: Wie sag ich das nochmal, "Ulrike vinograd"?   "Vinograd" heisst Weintraube.

Folgend also, wie angekuendigt, die haeufigsten Fehlgriffe von Deutschlernenden in Usbekistan:

1) SCHMACKHAFT - im Alltag komme ich oft in Situationen, wo wir entweder ueber deutsches/oesterreichisches, oder usbekisches Essen sprechen. Schmeckt dir Plov? Hast du schon mal Schnitzel gegessen? Als ich in Berlin war gab es ueberall Currywurst! usw.  Von vielen Seiten - Studis, Professoren verschiedener Unis oder Reisefuehrer - kam in diesem Kontext immer sowas aehnliches wie "Das ist wirklich sehr schmackhaft". Aeh, schmackhaft? Verwendet doch heutzutage niemand mehr, oder lieg ich da falsch? Was sagt man denn eigentlich wirklich? Mit "lecker" wird man gleich als Piefke abgestempelt, "gschmackig" ist zu oesterreichisch und "geil" vielleicht etwas zu umgangssprachlich. Amuesant jedenfalls, weil dieses Wort offensichtlich in zahlreichen sowjetischen Deutschlehrbuechern verwendet und bis heute noch so unterrichtet wird.

2) SICH SEHNEN NACH - eine Woche ist man nicht an der Uni wegen Krankheit, schon sagten mir zahlreiche Studis "Kristina, wir haben uns SO nach Ihnen gesehnt!" Idiomatisch nicht ganz passend und kommt wahrscheinlich vom russischen Wort "скучать", welches auch in meinem Langenscheidt Russisch-Deutsch Woerterbuch als "sich sehnen nach" und - oh! - auch als "sich langweilen" uebersetzt wird. Das wuerde natuerlich erklaeren, warum ich auch schonmal "Ich habe mich so nach Ihnen gelangweilt" zu Ohren bekommen habe...

3) WIE GEHT ES DU? - In Usbekistan/im Usbekischen sind die Regeln des Duzens und Siezens nicht mit den Regeln im Deutschen zu vergleichen. Die "Sie"- (eigentlich ja "Ihr"-) Form steht zwar auch fuer Respekt, aber findet schon in der Familie Anwendung. So muss man seine aelteren Geschwister siezen, seine Eltern siezen, und auch seine StudienkollegInnen an der Uni - von Professoren oder Leuten, die auch nur wenig aelter sind als man selbst, ganz zu schweigen. Geduzt werden also nur juengere, bzw enge Freunde, oder die juengeren Geschwister. Wie bereits in vorherigen Blogposts erwaehnt ist Usbekistan sehr regionalistisch, so dass sich auch diese kulturellen "Regeln" von Region zu Region unterscheiden. Mir wurde schon oefters erzaehlt, dass es einige Gegenden gibt, wo sogar Kleinkinder und Babies gesiezt werden. Jedenfalls widerspiegelt sich das auch in der Verwendung der deutschen Sprache. Obwohl ich bei usbekischen Freunden meist sofort das Du-Wort angeboten habe, werde ich aus Gewohnheitsgruenden trotzdem immer noch gesiezt - auch einfach, weil sie im Alltag nie die Du-Form im Deutschen konjugieren muessen. Phrasen wie "Wie geht es Ihnen?" werden schnell gelernt, das Duz-aequivalent jedoch nie. Also ist es keine Seltenheit, hier "Wie geht es du?" gefragt zu werden. Und bei so einer Frage, will man ja dann auch nicht unhoeflich sein und gleich ausbessern...

4) IM INTERNET SITZEN - "Meine Hobbys sind Freunde treffen, im Internet sitzen, usw." Klassischer Interferenzfehler aus dem Russischen (und angeblich auch im Usbekischen), da man hier wirklich "im Internet sitzen" (сидеть в интернете "sidet v internete") sagt. 

5) ICH KRISTINA - im Russischen gibt es kein Wort wie "sein". "Ich bin Kristina" wird also vor allem bei Sprachanfaengern zu "Ich Kristina".

Vielleicht faellt mir ja bald noch mehr ein.. :) 

Samstag, 6. April 2013

Intercultural spring celebrations

The first thing you may want to know: I am successfully registered and no longer illegal in the country! Good news.

Returning to Tashkent was a little strange after being home for three weeks, but I think I am somewhat fully readjusted now. Of course there are still issues and situations at work that are new to me and that have me rethink my own idea of work, or the kind of relationship you have to your work colleagues cause even these things differ culturally. But in the end, these situations develop my skills in intercultural communication and help me grow as a person.

Returning to Tashkent was also important, as going back home did not only make me realize how much I missed certain things about home and, therefore, raised my appreciation of my own hometown, but also reminded me of the things I genuinely didn't miss. As a result, there was a part of me that really looked forward to returning to Tashkent, and after struggling a little to readjust, I enjoy being back. As a very dear friend of mine has said, it's important to experience all four seasons in order to really get a feel for a place, and I completely agree with him. After a short but sunny autumn, a snowy and comparatively short winter with a dry cold, it is finally spring. I love to go for a walk to enjoy Tashkent's verdant green of its blooming trees, and the gentle warmth of spring's sun on my face while sitting in our flowering garden.

On a rainy Sunday afternoon
The sun's coming back!
Spring in Tashkent. A road close to where I live.

 The beginning of spring, i.e. the 'beginning of life' is also extensively celebrated in Uzbekistan on the 21st of March - the celebration is called Navruz (sometimes also spelled Newroz, Nauryz, meaning "new day" in Farsi) and is the most important holiday in Uzbekistan (and in a lot of other countries, too, such as Iran, Afghanistan and Tadjikistan). Already when I arrived in Tashkent at the beginning of October, all my students tried to convince me to stay longer to celebrate Navruz with them, and so I did. Navruz symbolises the victory of spring over winter, of light over darkness, and this tradition is said to have derived from a zoroastrian ritual from about 3000 years ago. Even months before the 21st of March, students were missing classes due to official preparations for celebrations in parks and on Mustaqillik square, and many school groups and choirs were seen to go in and out of rehearsals for this big day. I was unlucky enough not to experience any of the official celebrations despite our checking out some of the biggest parks in Tashkent before it started raining that day. I was, however, invited to the Navruz celebrations at my old University a few days later, which I happily accepted. The holiday is marked by the preparation of one of Uzbekistan's national dishes, namely sumalak, so that I was asked to join the preparation ceremony at 7pm on a Friday night. Sumalak is a brown, sweet paste made of germinated wheat and water cooked in a massive cauldron (called kasan)*. Since the wheat and water take a long time to thicken, it is cooked all night long, and there is a whole set of traditions related to its preparation. It is believed that Sumalak is much tastier if the people preparing it celebrate, sing songs and dance, and so we also did so at University. Matthias and I were asked to stir and were told that we could make a wish.


We weren't able to try sumalak until the next day, when the actual Navruz celebrations took place. Once again, tables were filled with amounts of food that nobody could possibly eat, music was blaring out of loudspeakers, and dancing, speeches on good luck  and performances (drama, dance) were taking their turns. It's impossible to deny dancing at an Uzbek celebration, so that Matthias and I were reluctantly pulled on the 'dance floor' to join in their happiness. Despite my dislike of being force-fed (I know I sound ungrateful here, but everyone who has lived in Uzbekistan will understand), I genuinely enjoyed celebrating with my former students who would not stop telling me how much they had missed me. I realised how much I had missed them, and I became a little nostalgic of having to move on from the joys of teaching them. My nostalgia was interrupted when it was announced that sumalak was ready. We all gathered around the kasan in order to take part in an ancient rite: Everyone is dying to see which design appears on the surface of the finished sumalak, as the shape of the design would be used for fortune telling. Apparently the variety of which design the surface can take is quite big, from seeing a bird, to a tree or a flower. Our sumalak, however, clearly showed a sun. Since there was nobody to interpret its meaning, I am just going to guess that it"s a sign for a positive and good year :)

Now it was time to finally try sumalak. My housemate Saskia had already told me about how  she was told the previous year that it tastes similar to Nutella, only to find out that it really doesn't, so that it was a bit of a disappointment. I tried to tell myself not to except anything, and certainly not Nutella. Also, how much can go wrong with something consisting of wheat and water? A massive cup was served and I was scared that I wouldn't like it, meaning that I would have to finish it nevertheless cause I didn't want to hurt the feelings of my former students who looked at me with big and hopeful eyes and who asked me repeatedly if I really did like it. It was okay - it's definitely not similar to Nutella, but it's somewhat sweet and not too bad (I was glad, however, that they didn't have any spoon left for me, so that I didn't have to finish the whole cup!)

The brown stuff in the cup is sumalak

The students are dancing away.
 
Uzbekistan is regionalistic so that every region has different national dresses, ways of making plov and baking bread.



A student from Khorezm dancing a traditional dance

It was a beautiful celebration, particularly because I was able to spend it with people I genuinely like. As much as I liked Navruz, I also thoroughly enjoyed our own culture's (kind of) spring celebration on the following weekend: Easter! Even though Easter isn't as much of as family holiday as Christmas (for me at least), it makes a big difference when you spend it in a country where it isn't celebrated at all and, sometimes, not even heard of. Luckily Saskia was as convinced as I was to at least have a lovely Easter breakfast together, so we gathered together all of our imported goods (such as colours to dye eggs, Milka chocolate eggs and bunnies, pumpernickel, Viennese coffee, etc.), baked homemade Striezel, dyed eggs in five different colours and set up a lovely Fruhstuckstisch as we know it from home. This may not sound that special to you, but it really is considering how many things there are you have to do without with in Uzbekistan, particularly regarding food. We didn't go on an easter egg hunt, but really enjoyed bringing a tradition that we all grew up with to a country so different by chatting away in the early hours of this rainy Easter Sunday. Celebrating German/Austrian holidays together is also a bonding thing, so that I've felt a lot more comfortable in the new house ever since.


As I have mentioned before, spring is the time of renewal and of a 'new start', and it really is for me, considering that I have a new job and live in a new environment. For some reason, however, I felt as though something was missing in my life and that I would need something else that is completely new for me...;) After thinking about this a little while, considering and reconsidering the advantages and disadvantages, talking to Saskia and Matthias, as well as our landlady, I decided to take action. Please let me introduce you to my new housemate:

Her name is Undine, and she is a very lovely and pretty Russian tortoise. Tortoises like her are dirt cheap over here (I payed 8000 Uz sum at Askiya bazar, which is about 2.50 Euro) because Uzbekistan is their natural habitat, meaning that it's also very easy to keep them. We simply keep her in the garden, feed her and give her fresh water everyday, soak her every now and then, install a little shelter from rain and natural predators, and, of course, keep her company. So far, her favorite food is lettuce and dandelion, and she loves to lie in the sun, but we are only in the process of getting to know each other! I love her to pieces and will be sad to leave her behind when I leave Uzbekistan in September..


* Recipes seem to vary, as this blog, for example, states that the ingredients are wheat, flour and vegetable oil.