Two Stops Past Siberia

So today, during the middle of week five, we all, the 60 current Peace Corps Trainees learned where we’d be spending the next two years of our lives.

This information had, previous to today, been a closely guarded secret. While, truth be told, they were still tinkering with their final decisions, the real reason for keeping us in the dark was to build a pungent anticipation for the announcement.

The ceremony revolved around us running to our announced locations on a gigantic chalk map of Kyrgyzstan’s 5 oblasts, or states, etched in the parking lot of the orphanage where we rent space to conduct our meetings. We all stood around the map, like the gallery of the Globe Theatre, to wait for our names, and applaud with abandon for our friends.

From this position, we ogled our fellow compatriots, picked out who to visit and when. The atmosphere was festive, jovial, missing only colorful tents and jugglers. Current volunteers came to great us, take pictures, share stories.

As I had hoped, I was placed in Naryn City, a place that will, in all honesty, feel like it is two stops past Siberia. Naryn sits at over 6,500 feet, nestled high in the Tian Shan Mountain range. Winters routinely reach forty below zero. The city is 99% ethnic Kyrgyz. Diet in the summer will be fruits and vegetables from the south, and in the winter is said to consist almost entirely of meat, bread and cabbage.

I didn’t enter the Peace Corps for an easy experience – and it doesn’t look like I’ll be getting one – in short, so far it’s everything I’ve dreamed of.

This news, naturally, put a positive spin on the whole rest of my day. I got ice cream with my teacher in Kant City on the way home. I was in a vest and a button-down, sleeves rolled up, perfect weather to see the fresh snow on the mountains. People often mistake me for one of the many fair skinned ethnic Russians, and today was no different. Every day I feel more like that last puzzle piece finally finding its home.

When I got to my house, the newborn puppies that live under our deck came out for the first time. Grandma, “Great Mother,” was outside tending to some toddlers, and my sister-in-law was slowly boiling a vast field of dumplings.

The night even ended with a surprise, mid-week banya! I stepped out into the cool night, freshly sweated clean, and whistled loud, knowing only that I wanted to interact with my world. My sister came out into the cold, to see only me, no late-night visitor. She laughed at me and went back inside.

I will tell you folks, the most amazing part of this entire experience thus far has been how similar everything is. I lay in my bed at night, thinking of how I could be sleeping anywhere. My family is a family like any other. We work to get along, to have fun with what we’ve got., and who we’ve got around us Its beautiful, and simple, and perfect. So much so far has been both profoundly grandiose and powerfully grounding. People are people, it seems, no matter where they are.

Originally Written April 28th, 2009