UPDATE UPDATE UPDATE

Here I am, and I have much to tell. My trip started out on a somewhat isolated note; I didn't really talk to anybody on the first flight (God bless tiny TVs in the back of the seat in front of you... not). After that I wandered around Heathrow Airport in London for 5 hours, feeling hungry and groggy but not sure what to do about it. It seems like a simple enough problem, but for some reason I felt very uncertain and indecicive. Just as I was beginning to feel less self-conscious about my American accent and the fact that I obviously didn't know how to use English currency, the time came for me to board another flight to Bishkek.

The second leg of my journey was much better. I chatted with a cute British flight attendant, as well as a very friendly Russian woman, Olga, who sat behind me, and a Kazaki guy sitting next to her. Making small talk with them about what I'd be doing in Bishkek made me feel a lot better. They were so sweet, they even offered to switch rows with me so I could lay across their seats and have a nap. At first I wasn't sure how to take the gesture-- I often find myself feeling suspicious about people's intentions, because when you're in a foreign land you have no idea what's normal and what's not. My concerns about whether Olga wanted to steal my stuff turned out to be completely unfounded, and the nine hour flight with her and the other people I met was a great comfort. They gave me lots of advice and reassurance, which I appreciated more than they could know. Olga gave me a big hug after we picked up our luggage and we exchanged emails... Maybe I'll meet up with her for tea sometime during my stay.

I arrived at my host home in the middle of the night. Kanybek from MK International, Begaiym from AIESEC, and another boy whose name I forget brought me to my host family's flat (that's what they call apartments here), and the first thing I did when I had a bit of privacy was cry. I really needed a hug, it had been a long and tiring journey. I've never felt so alien before. But so far people in Bishkek are very nice. My host family consists of a Mom, a girl about my age named Kanykei, a 16 year-old named Aida, and a 6 year old girl named Achmirelde. The next morning the mom made me a breakfast of tea, bread and raisins. Later she made some potatos, tea again, and some orange baby-food looking stuff that I didn't like too much. I ate it anyway. I can't bear to refuse their hospitality.

That day Kanybek and a friend of his picked me up to run some errands to the bank, US Embassey, an internet cafe and lunch. Kanybek's friend bought me some kind of milky-white frothy drink from a street vendor, and I successfully resisted the intense urge to vomit. I'm not sure what that stuff was called, but it's the Kyrgyz national drink-- fermented goat's milk. That and the orange stuff is the only Kyrgyz food I don't like so far.

Every morning I wake up at about 6:30. I don't plan it that way, that's just how my jetlag worked out. Each night I'm tired enough to fall asleep by 10:30, and can you imagine, for the first time in my life I have no use for an alarm clock. I treasure my mornings here more than anything. It's really nice to have some peace and quiet to myself to read or write. Just before the rest of the family has breakfast together at around 8:30, I stand and look out the open window at the people passing by, seven stories below me on the street. It's a very peaceful way to begin the day.

My host family has put me up in the back bedroom, the biggest room in the house. While I appreciate their hospitality, something just doesn't set right wtih me about the fact that while the rest of the family sleeps on fold-out couches and floormats, I'm sleeping alone in a queen-sized bed in a room that gets the best breeze in the house. Still, I'm learning to take it in stride. How strange it is for an person who was raised in a country that worships independance, to be a guest in a country that values hospitality so highly.

Every so often I think about quitting on this whole internship and just going home. It's always a momentary feeling, but I can't help it. It comes whenever I consider the fact that I'm completely dependent on everybody I know here. Something about that scares me a lot, and I get these little flashes of anxiety about it. People here take care of me. They feed me, refill my teacup for me, take me out and show me around, buy coffee or bottled water or ice cream for me... I know I shouldn't feel guilty for it but I do. My American upbringing dictates that I be ashamed of the imposition I'm causing everybody here. But all the people I know seem glad to help out. I'm still learning how to be okay with that.

Any anxieties I feel throughout the day always pass as soon as some one extends some gesture of kindness, whether that be in the form of trying to talk to me in broken English, or simply speaking to me in Russian because they don't know any English at all. There is something very touching about having a person still want to communicate with me, despite the fact that everything from my height, to my language, to my tastes, to my grooming habits is foreign. I hope I can somehow show everyone how thankful I am for their kindness.

My Russian is coming along much more slowly than I would like. You'd think that after five days I'd know how to say more than just 'one, two, three, four' (odin, dua, tri, chetyre), 'tea' (cha) and 'thank you' (spasibo). One of my biggest fears is getting through these ten weeks without ever progressing past traveler's Russian. I can only assume, blindly, that that won't happen. For now though, I'm learning that picking up a language from scratch, with no formal training, is much harder than I expected.

On Sunday I met most of my students for the first time. Kanybek and Jeff, the directors of MK International, took me and the students to the mountains to hike, play games and hang out eating barbeque. It was a lot of fun. They tried to teach me a Russian card game which I never really understood fully; and I taught them how to play Egyptian Rat Screw, which turned out to be quite a popular game, especially after everyone had had a couple beers.

That night one of my host sisters, Aida, took me to go have the first proper shower I'd had since I arrived. Her mother owns a business that is something like a spa. People can show up, take a hot shower and lounge around smoking on big comfy leather couches, watching TV. It was fantastic. There is nothing like a long shower and a shave to wash away a day's worth of dirt, leftover from hanging out on a mountain.

At least as often as I feel uncertain and homesick, I also feel intensely grateful for this experience. I suppose that's the hardest thing of all, never being able to settle on a single set of feelings about what I'm going through here. If this is culture shock, then I have to say, it's not nearly as shocking as it is confusing. For everybody who hasn't heard from me yet, please know that I did indeed get here safe and happy. I will keep you posted as best I can (but future posts will probably not be this lengthy). If there's one thing I won't have any of you doing, it's worrying. Just keep praying for me; or if you don't pray, then keep sending me positive vibes. I love you guys.

Tune in later amigos.