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JanelleMorrison
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Name: Janelle
Interests: Planning vacations to other parts of the world. Figuring out why people do the things they do.
Watching Hallmark on cable.
Reading People Magazines 15 times.
Occupation: Consulting
Industry: Government
Message: message me
MSN: Janelle_morrison@hotmail.com
Member Since:
9/6/2004
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| Since I have lived in KZ now for a year and a half, I am surprised that my mind hasn’t fully grasped this idea and that I still get so mad over it. But, I do….see bathrooms aren’t just bathrooms here, they are also the smoking section of the office/cafe/airport/club/mall/insert place and it drives me CRAZY!!!
In my office there is one girl’s and one boy’s bathroom on a floor of about 40 people. I think when the toilets are being used for their main purpose, we could make do with this, however, the women of the office sit in there for 5/6 minutes to smoke and then do their hair. Almost EVERYTIME I have to use the restroom there is someone in there. And EVERYTIME I go in there it smells like an ashtray. I have resorted now to using the girl’s or the boy’s (which also smells like smoke, but that is because they are too lazy to walk downstairs or because a woman needed her fix and couldn’t wait for the other one before her to get hers) bathrooms- whichever is free. I still haven’t figured out if this is acceptable here, but honestly, I don’t care, I HAVE TO GO.
It isn’t just in the women in my office. I remember on our way to Dubai, I walked into the bathroom at 6am, smelling crisp and clean, and walked out smelling like I had been at a club all night. I even put hand lotion in my hair because it was grossing me out (my hair absorbs everything). Then the airport workers didn’t want to go to the smoking section of the airport so they hot boxed the bathroom- which I might add are 20 feet from each other. FOR GOD SAKES WOMEN, THEY KNOW YOU ARE SMOKING!!! *but, I guess in a way they don’t know WHICH one is smoking, so they can pretend that is “that other girl” in the bathroom.
This is so difficult for me to understand-really. Do you know how gross the bathrooms are in this country? THEY ARE AWEFUL. I would much rather men see me smoke or know I smoke then sit in there “enjoying” my cigarette. It is like smoking in one of the stalls of a rest stop (the old ones, not the newer ones) or the public bathrooms at Venice Beach. I just don’t get it. And wish it would stop. But, it won’t, so in the meantime I go to the bathroom in the men’s restroom and smell like old smoke. | | |
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There are times when language and culture create a divide for me, or make it impossible for me to express what I want to express. I feel odd when I am looking for something and can’t say it, so I have to use hand actions. Or there are times when the cab driver tries to screw you out of 100 tenge and I want to yell at him, but it is too hard for me to do in Russian (though I will admit that it is getting easier). Or the times when you are suppose to go on and on with the toasts and I run out of things to say after congrats and wish you the best year. I could tell you a million and one stories about times that the language has created barriers for me, but none is more true that today’s.
Normal Mondays begin with hello and how was your weekend. For me, it is no different. I chatted for a while with my translator about her weekend and her morning. Today is her husband’s birthday, and this weekend they went looking for cars (he wants an Audi). Eventually, the fresh morning turned into late morning and things were progressing forward. I was writing a report for my boss and she was investing the cable and internet market here in KZ. This normal morning turned sour and horrible though.
My Russian and intuition combined gives me the ability to understand context. At 10:45, my translator was on the phone with her sister. She hung up and immediately got a call transferred to her again; it was another sister or cousin, not sure because the words are the same in Russian. This girl was crying. I could tell because my co-worker kept saying “what’s wrong, I can’t understand you, why are you crying”. And then, it turned silent and I heard he say “No, Mama?” and then she began to cry. I couldn’t understand everything, but the words “Died, Hospital, When?” were all said. And when the phone hung up, I understood that my co-workers mother had died. It was totally unexpected. She looked at me and said this is terrible and began crying. Of course, naturally, I ran to her and gave her a hug. She is so young and fragile; my heart truly was breaking for her. She didn’t know what to do- she was just shaking.
Within a minute other people from the office came into our office (we share and office). They were her friends, they were consoling her and gave her a valume (Or something like that and am still curious as to why someone had a valume on them). I stayed around for a while, to show support, but eventually retreated out of the office because I know that English is the last thing that she needed to be thinking about. I felt so terrible not being able to comfort her and not being able to communicate with anyone in the office. I didn’t know what to do, and only hope that I didn’t do anything offensive.
I am not sure what the customs are here, but I know that the company immediately gave her an envelope with money in it. I think that this is to get her through this time. I am not sure; I still have to ask some people. Unfortunately, it will have to wait because it is hard for me to talk to people without a translator. I was also shocked at how quickly the company had that money for her…within 30 minutes. And they had a driver ready to take her wherever she needed to go. It shows where people here connect- it is impossible to get paychecks on time at some companies, but you can get “death money” within the hour.
So, I am here now in my office. The terrible emotions that this poor girl went through keep spinning in my head. The “I cant’s”, “my poor sister’s (only 16)”, and the “Oh Mama’s” are just haunting me. I remember last Monday I sat across from her and she was so sad because her Mom and little sister just left back for their home city. She was so sad, nearly to tears. Breaks my heart to think what she is going through as I type this.
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Long Stems for Bday!!! Tulips for Vday!!!
*And the best part: THEY WERE DELIVERED ON TIME!
(a great victory here in KZ) | | |
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…are actually on YOU! Yep, that is right…you and your friends go out and for your birthday they give YOU the bill! The weekend before last, our friends here in Almaty gave us “the bill” for our birthday celebration (actually, we wanted to accept the traditions, they didn’t expect it). The one good thing about having your birthday so close to your boyfriends…you can split the bill!!!! So it wasn’t quite as painful as it could have been!!!
On Friday night, at like 6 pm, Jared finally decided that he was keen on my idea to have a party the next night with some of our friends…so, we started calling and text messaging people that we know, and invited them to Inara’s…a local place for Shashlik (shish kabob’s). It was a fun night; it started with some random teacher from the school I teach at ordering extra beers RIGHT as the lady gave everyone their beers. It was odd. I laughed. He was bored and asked another teacher if he could come with her. We didn’t mind the extra company, but my old translator was a little tripped out because HE IS HER PROFESSOR!!!! Can you imagine going to one of your friends’ birthdays and your professor from Bschool is there….random!
Anyway, on with the highlights…at one point I got really excited because I was dancing and I saw Jared coming to dance with me. But, actually he came running to the dance floor because he heard it was “getting aggressive” out there from the other girls. The funniest part about it, I got SOOOO excited because as he came up, the music turned to slow songs (they do that here at the dance places)!!! I thought that he knew that it was going to be slow and he wanted to dance with me!!! After we started dancing I realized that I was wrong. L Honestly though, I didn’t care that I was wrong because I still got a slow dance with him. J Relationships are funny like that!
Sometime in the blur of the night, I lost Jared’s scarf. I feel really bad. I tried to take someone else’s (don’t judge me for my lack of good choices on my birthday), but Jared didn’t like it…it was a furry one…not really for boys!!!
So, it was fun. I am older now though, which I would like to stop, but I can’t. I threw up the whole next day... I guess 21 and 28 feel a lot different. Hmmmm….2 years….then…never mind, I don’t want to think about it yet. I am still a 20-something!!!!!!! | | |
| I figured that being back in the work force would give me something to talk about....but, I am so busy that I really have no time to talk about it!!! Funny how that works- it's the old "work to live, live to work" thing!
KZ is more depressing after spending 3 weeks at home. When you are immerged in "developing country-ness" for 8/9 months, you have the tendency/ability to forget what home is like. But, as soon as you are home, you have no recollection of even being in "developing country-ness". So, when I got back on the plane in LA and arrived 24 hours later, it was like getting here for the first time and yet also like I never left. It is odd.
Anyway, all of you have a general idea of what home consisted of from Jared's site (www.xanga.com/metzger21) so, I won't go into that. Instead, I will tell you about what my body and other stuff is missing from home:
My face- feeling the sunshine on it without have the sensation that it may freeze off if I don't cover it soon (it is sunny here, but cold)
My feet- flip flops! They are not too keen on the wool lined up to the knee boots. My toes like to breathe fresh air.
My Stomach- tastes of Taco Bell, McDonalds, and all the other food chains! (Though I can say that my intestines don't miss that at all.)
My Bum- my Passat and the roads I drove on. It calls for them every morning and every evening to and from work as a sit in a Russian lada bouncing up and down 30 minutes to and from work.
My clothes- the "hand wash" setting on the washing machine and temp control. Some of the new clothes I bought already have been died an ugly brown because it impossible to change the temp. on the washing machine and holes will soon follow because it is such a violent machine.
One thing is REALLY HAPPY:
My Pocket book- $100's are not flying out of it and soon it will be replenished.
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