Winter ...
The weather is cold already, and two days ago snow fell and hasn't yet entirely melted. Last weekend I went to the bazaar and bought boots with fur inside, a hat with fur inside, and a sweater. To demonstrate that the hat was real fur, the salesman took a lighter and burned a little bit of the lining. "Can you smell it?" he asked. Smells bad, I said. He said, "Right! It smells bad like real burning fur!". So I have the real deal.
I was working at school one day and a Kazakh man walked into the room. "I have business with you," he said. Did I know a girl named Olga? Um, no. You met in the center, he said. Um. She's my girl, he said, and I wanted to tell you that face to face. Ok. You don't remember her? Can't say I do. Is this your phone number, he asked, holding up his cel phone. No, it isn't. Are you an American volunteer? Yes. Is your name Brian? Ah ha.
Brian and I had a favorite place for shashlik. One time when we were eating there a couple of girls, one homely and one pretty, asked us to join them for shots of vodka. (This happens to us everywhere we go.) We joined them, and the pretty one took a liking to Brian and the uglier one to me. Long story short, the pretty one hit on Brian, insisted that she didn't have a boyfriend and lived with her parents, and kissed on a bench while the other girl and I talked. Brian had a new cel phone, so they exchanged numbers, we all went home, and that was that. The girl called Brian a few times, but he wasn't really interested for whatever reason, so didn't call her or meet up with her again.
But it turns out that she had a boyfriend of five years, and he caught her text-messaging Brian. He asked her who it was, and she evidently told him that he was an American volunteer named Brian, and he managed to track me down. The Kazakh guy was very friendly, polite, and articulate, and angry but not hot-tempered. He just wanted to confront the problem and get it over with. So I went with him to where Brian worked, he said his peace, Brian protested that he didn't know she had a boyfriend, and that was that. The guy invited us to the cafe he owns sometime, took me back to my school, and that was that.
The fact is, I was there, and Brian was 100% in the right. This girl lied to Brian, cheated on her boyfriend of five years, and it was Brian (and nearly me) who caught flak for it. If this guy had been less reasonable it could have been much worse for him. From talking to him in the car, I think the Kazakh man didn't even know they had kissed - all he knew is that his his girl has text-messaged Brian. And this was enough for him to track down where we worked and visit in the middle of the day.
One meaning of this is that maybe there is some small kernel of truth to the reactionary disdain my host mother has for women who smoke cigarettes and drink in public without their "man". At least I see my perception has changed. I was hanging out in a disco with Jen Otten, and American female volunteer who's a virtuous(if I may say so) woman who smokes. As she was standing smoking, a man came up to her and tried to hit on her, bold and uninvited. She shooed him off, and complained to me about Kazakhstani guys and their aggressive treatment of women. But my gut reaction was to say, well, of course he thought you were easy, you're smoking. Which was the wrong thing to say to her at that particular time, and for which I apologized later.
At any rate, the real conclusion - or "action item" as my friends at HP might say - is no meeting girls anymore through any means other than mutual acquaintance.
I was working at school one day and a Kazakh man walked into the room. "I have business with you," he said. Did I know a girl named Olga? Um, no. You met in the center, he said. Um. She's my girl, he said, and I wanted to tell you that face to face. Ok. You don't remember her? Can't say I do. Is this your phone number, he asked, holding up his cel phone. No, it isn't. Are you an American volunteer? Yes. Is your name Brian? Ah ha.
Brian and I had a favorite place for shashlik. One time when we were eating there a couple of girls, one homely and one pretty, asked us to join them for shots of vodka. (This happens to us everywhere we go.) We joined them, and the pretty one took a liking to Brian and the uglier one to me. Long story short, the pretty one hit on Brian, insisted that she didn't have a boyfriend and lived with her parents, and kissed on a bench while the other girl and I talked. Brian had a new cel phone, so they exchanged numbers, we all went home, and that was that. The girl called Brian a few times, but he wasn't really interested for whatever reason, so didn't call her or meet up with her again.
But it turns out that she had a boyfriend of five years, and he caught her text-messaging Brian. He asked her who it was, and she evidently told him that he was an American volunteer named Brian, and he managed to track me down. The Kazakh guy was very friendly, polite, and articulate, and angry but not hot-tempered. He just wanted to confront the problem and get it over with. So I went with him to where Brian worked, he said his peace, Brian protested that he didn't know she had a boyfriend, and that was that. The guy invited us to the cafe he owns sometime, took me back to my school, and that was that.
The fact is, I was there, and Brian was 100% in the right. This girl lied to Brian, cheated on her boyfriend of five years, and it was Brian (and nearly me) who caught flak for it. If this guy had been less reasonable it could have been much worse for him. From talking to him in the car, I think the Kazakh man didn't even know they had kissed - all he knew is that his his girl has text-messaged Brian. And this was enough for him to track down where we worked and visit in the middle of the day.
One meaning of this is that maybe there is some small kernel of truth to the reactionary disdain my host mother has for women who smoke cigarettes and drink in public without their "man". At least I see my perception has changed. I was hanging out in a disco with Jen Otten, and American female volunteer who's a virtuous(if I may say so) woman who smokes. As she was standing smoking, a man came up to her and tried to hit on her, bold and uninvited. She shooed him off, and complained to me about Kazakhstani guys and their aggressive treatment of women. But my gut reaction was to say, well, of course he thought you were easy, you're smoking. Which was the wrong thing to say to her at that particular time, and for which I apologized later.
At any rate, the real conclusion - or "action item" as my friends at HP might say - is no meeting girls anymore through any means other than mutual acquaintance.
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home