Facing almost certain death

The past few weeks has seen me promoted to a PE TA. I say promoted, but really it’s just the same job, just with a lighter than light timetable and being instantly cool, because PE seems to be everyone’s favourite lesson; except for year 8 girls who appear to go down with a different ailment every 5 minutes. I spend most of my days floating around the school looking for classrooms that have a child’s birthday that day; aka a cake hunt. A promotion for my stomach, perhaps.

I’ve also being tutoring 3 siblings twice a week. This basically involves sitting on a very plush couch and having the 3 of them take turns to have me do their homework and wow them with my native English prowess. The middle child has taken to offering me tea, which I politely decline, as I wasn’t sure she knew how to make a cup. Turns out I was right; she saunters in one evening 10 minutes after leaving to “get a pen,” clutching this glass mug of honey coloured drink. I wonder how she’s clutching a glass cup filled with boiling water so tightly. Turns out that it was, in fact, cold water filled with tea leaves. I’ll give the girl credit; she’s got the basic idea right. Just putting it into practice turned out to be wildly unsuccessful. Needless to say I was more than relieved when her mum came home to rectify the situation.

This week saw us have a long 4 day weekend. Naturally, this has been a long time coming and we were eager to make a quick escape out of the city, to the mountains nearby. A quick hour and a half journey later and we were in the mountainous region of Chimgan; being one group of about two staying in our plush hotel that weekend. Our little cottages were rather spacious and provided the perfect setting for what can only be described as a tasteless rendition of Cards Against Humanity.

Our home; questionable stains and broken toilets by the time we left

Chalet livin'

Views for days

Day 1 was spent experiencing almost certain death on a cable cart up to the top of the mountain area we were in. It was a wise decision to look, neither up, nor down. Upon nearing the top, we were accosted by a man on a rock wielding a camera and throwing compliments towards our approaching car. Obviously we smiled encouragingly for what might be a man with a dream to be a photographer, and I further encouraged his career by happily buying our prints upon reaching the top.

Luckily they caught the smiles after we got over the initial shock

Do you even have any safety standards?

Does anyone even know this cable car ride is operating?

Our hike further up was brief but scorching, avoiding wild horses on the way. We found, and were vaguely successful at breaking into a weather station at the top, happily and thankfully avoiding arrest at the inappropriate posing done on said station. I am now expecting my invite to be an H&M model imminently.

Weather station not made for climbing on

I maintain we didn't get carried away

H&M, I'm awaiting your call now

The journey home was only slightly distressing, with our car bumping into another car’s wing mirror. Surprisingly, both cars stopped, if only for a 45 second yelling much before driving off with even more vengeance than before.

Look into the distance they said

We celebrated our survival to the mountains at a fast food place that conveniently served £1 cocktails and £3 bottles of champagne. Acting like the ballers that we clearly are, we made our way to a couple of other places throughout the course of the evening, eventually managing to get ourselves thrown out of one place for accidentally drinking someone's bottle of Jack Daniels and helping ourselves to their fruit platter. An honest mistake, it was agreed by all, as we were not so cordially removed by the bouncers. Not even sorry; apple and grapes are a perfect midnight snack.

 

Squadding

The Other Side of The Staff Room Door

This week started off with Independence Day here in the capital. Most public houses have been on lockdown post 11pm for the past few weeks, leaving us to enjoy the odd bevvy in the dark and in relative silence from wandering policemen outside. The celebrations of the actual day were scarce and apparently on a need-to-know basis. Thus, we wandered around until we found the most activity. This was centred around a punching machine with 50 men taking turns to prove their worth to future female potential via a rigged game. That is literally all there is to say about this apparent day of celebration; just severe lack of celebration.

Artistically placed flags

The streets were adorned for Independence Day

Feeling so free

Feeling free in front of Independence Square completely surrounded by policement

Wednesday was our 1^st official day of school with the children. Pre-nursery had quite a vibe going to it. On the big screen we have cartoons and nursery rhymes going - mainly to distract the ones crying from lack of mother presence.But at least they’re too distracted by this lack of parentage to start weeing all over the floor like the others. The rule is supposed to be that they’re potty trained and, to my obvious disgust and dismay, none of them are. Considering this not to be my responsibility, I take it upon myself to push them in the direction of another teacher once I notice the puddle around their legs. Combine that with the sand-play corner we’ve constructed and it’s pretty much just carnage with interludes of “happy and you know it” where no hand clapping or foot stomping comes from my direction. However, I have enjoyed taking a proactive role in nap time, utilising my motto of “lead by example.” Taking the bullet and offering to be the one that looks after the children during this crucial time of rest has led to me having basically every afternoon off, awaking just in time to sneak biscuits off their snack tray.

A ride on this sketchy cable car to forget the troubles of life

Too high and too rickety

Artsy shadow photo

This second week I took it upon myself to send a few strongly worded e-mails and have found myself loitering around year 5, pretending to help, when really they have more than enough staff. I amuse myself by letting the kids get away with everything and getting them to teach me derogatory Russian words. There’s nothing quite as satisfying as being allowed to skip the queue at lunch (like C YA suckers), whilst hurling these learnt terms back at them.

At least payday makes us feel like ballers

In other news, the hot water in the city is “being repaired.” Lord even knows what this entails, but the coming month shall have us awaiting a surprise ice shower that will last a week until they switch our district back on to the 21^st century. It must be remembered that they allowed a viber call of mine to go through last night after rejecting my Whatsapp, Facebook and Skype connection; and thus, I shall accept a sponge bath out of a kettle for a week in exchange for such Uzbek kindness.

Friday night saw us enter the Irish Pub rather early in the afternoon (straight from school, after a quick change to enhance that slut aesthetic). Who should we meet there but our lovely headmaster and a few colleagues. A few drinks later and the head whips out a nice shiny discount card that took him 2 years of excessive beer bills to acquire. Needless to say, my sassy inner self saw this and took the opportunity to win. Casually strolling inside the dimly-lit and smoky establishment, I approached the counter and asked to be introduced to the manager. Along he saunters, eyes widening as I extend my hand for an excessively aggressive handshake, never yet seen from a woman wanting to get married around these parts (stay in the kitchen, ladies). I explain that I’ve been in there spending millions of Som for weeks now and he nods and agrees as I stutter in neither Russian, nor English, nor any recognisable form of dialect. I’m not sure why there was agreement because it was all nonsense. Never-the-less, he leaves me making what I thought was interesting, but realistically, awkward conversation with the bar staff for a few minutes until he returns brandishing a loyalty card with me. I took it with joy, brandishing it in the faces of all those who doubted me outside, relishing in the challenge of having to attend a pub gathering 4 times a week in order to rack up points and fulfil my promise. I also impressed and-or embarrassed my new boss so it was kinda win-win all evening.

Loyalty share fare us well

Referring back to the title, the other side of the staff room is not much to be excited about. It’s small and the smell of burning laminate ruins the calm of lack of children. Good luck getting a computer, but what’s even worse, is the luck you’ll need to grab a samosa when someone brings some in “to share”. I say “to share”, because it’s like an episode of The Hunger Games.

So many illegal metro photos, it shan't be long now

Mandatory photo day; not as traumatic as actual school days

Tashkent tummy: shit went down

Despite running out of Tinder profiles to swipe through in 15 minutes, life has yet to lull in this so-called Stone City. Skype is still banned until the Independence Day celebrations are over. Obviously those intent on planning any dodgy dealings don’t have whatsapp or something equivalent, and thus I now feel safe attending all celebrations knowing that the Uzbek authorities have their national security under control by means of Skype embargo.

I'm excited to meet men like Sardor in this country

Us TAs seem to be dropping like flies. A mixture of foreign germs, spending all night being bitten to death, and food primarily composed of oil and salt has left most of us in various states of consciousness on the day we had to have our blood taken. We have affectionately named the situation “Tashkent Tummy;” a name much cuter than the situation. The first I’d heard of the blood test was an e-mail the night before, and I’m yet to hear of the actual purpose. For all I know they’ve perfected the cloning process and there’s now 100 new Nadias contributing to this nation’s prosperity by gathering their 120 pound daily quota of cotton in the fields of Samarkand. The efficiency of the plump babushka nurse was like nothing I’ve ever experienced. She had filled up her vials with the blood (sweat and tears) of every new staff member in no more than 25 minutes. A burly doctor stood behind her, watching; and no doubt waiting to send her off to join the disreputed in the fields should she not make her own quota of blood. Armed with our little plasters and very long grapes, we spent our 3^rd day pottering around trying not to break every container in the science lab.

Very long grapes from very tall grape trees

Friday night took us to meet in the park before going for a few drinks. The park is where the locals seem to make a start to a wild weekend. The place was adorned with Uzbek men having their caricatures painted; no doubt to be put on a shrine at home for their wives to idolize. (They’re often not allowed out without their husband’s supervision). I made a few friends; one in particular was a kind gentleman on a motorbike adorned with fairy lights, offering rides to children. I politely declined even when it became бесплатно (free). All I could imagine was getting on the back and before I know it being kidnapped to the fields of cotton, or trafficked into Thailand. Neither a particularly delightful prospect. One particular man wanted me to return tomorrow to look at his new collection of souvenirial pins. I replied with a nice да, завтра (yes, tomorrow); only for him to reply with до завтра (until tomorrow). A little too excitedly at the prospect of my return. Needless to say, I didn’t.

Bustling Uzbek night-life

Reminiscent of the seaside at Southend circa '97

Shine light, shine

"Wasting electricity and these hoes aren't even buying my настоящий (real) Louis Vuitton jewellery"

Saturday was spent at the Chorsu bazaar. Me and Claire took the metro. Armed with resting bitch face, we had no problem on the way there; just 2 bag checks. The way back included a 10 minute look at our documents and one of the policemen inquiring as to why my paper said I had no children, and then after my little bird pendant. Perhaps the police have a more refined taste in jewellery than previously expected.  Or maybe he thought I’d use it as a bribe to take my metro ride. Photos are also not allowed on the metro for "security?" reasons. Needless to say, I snuck some in anyway, trying to look nonchalant but no doubt twitching like a priest in a whorehouse. Some local Uzbek told me it was нельзя (a big no-no) to take pics. Shocked at his lack of comradery I ceased my illegal activities as they whispered about if we were French. Almost pushed him into the tracks at that comment. 

Illegal. Blogger is probably about to be blocked in Uzbekistan for this. All the regrets.

This police man at the end is gonna get caned for allowing this photo to happen.

The bazaar was more like a sort of super club. Go to the toilets and you’ll never find anyone again. Thus, sticking close together, we sauntered through stalls of dead carcass, rotting vegetables, and sour cheese balls. I was merely perusing for my 1^st time there, trying to get a lay of the land. However I did manage to buy all 8 Harry Potter movies on 1 disk and seasons 1 and 2 of GOT for 8,000 som (£2). He tried to get my pay 5,000 each and I swore down I could get it for 3k elsewhere, pointing in the general direction of bustle. Looking suspiciously in aforementioned direction as if to see the person charging below agreed monopoly dvd price, we agreed on 4k each. 

Bizarre or bazaar?

Who knows how much child labour it took to make these wares.

Photos of the TV tower are also illegal, but this is far too artistic. This country should appreciate I made their country look nicer than it actually is.

I moved to Uzbekistan and now I'm just always hot

I’ve moved to the desert, also known as Tashkent, Uzbekistan. The question most people ask is “why, why Uzbekistan?” To be honest it was the first job I applied for and got. Combine that with a hot climate and here I am, chillin in my swanky apartment, AC on full blast as a lady on the TV describes how moving to Moscow from Brazil made her voice deteriorate.

The whole move seemed to have its quirks from the get go. From the flight’s welcome drink of a coke that left a nice layer of sugar around my mouth for the rest of the flight, to the whole seat number situation, where the seats go in order of A, B, C, E, G, J, H from left to right. An alphabet that makes sense to no one anywhere, and makes me wonder why I ever thought logic and order would make my life easier. Dinner was 2 hours after we boarded at 23:30, followed by a swift pain au raisin for breakfast at 2am. Just the right thing to help us acclimatise to a new time zone; thanks Uzbek Airways. The 30 degree inside temperature was certainly to be a help for what lay in store when we landed; unless you were by the leaking windows and doors of course. For a flight that is only twice a week the passengers were few and far in between; most of them Indians using Tashkent as a layover. Upon arrival, I was also tempted to use Tashkent as a layover to anywhere else. We were greeted by a strong military presence as we got off the plane, consisting of 5 men dressed in pixelated blue camo. Don’t worry, if Uzbekistan decides to invade you’ll see them coming a mile off. Also ready to confiscate any contraband we had bought in; aka anything more than 3 pairs of leather shoes, 1 piece of knitwear, or 2 watches as stated in the immigration documents. Removing my beloved Argos Casio out of sight, I followed the lady calling our names in an entirely unrecognisable accent to the VIP entrance as we got off. The VIP section entailed going down a flight of stairs and waiting 45 minutes for our suitcases to be differentiated from the rest of the riff-raff’s upstairs. However we did get to enjoy a drinks table to hydrate in the 8am-35 degree heat.

VIP; I feel like a celebrity

At least there were beverages

There were 2 minibuses which slowly took us 1 by 1 to our new residences. Mine was 2^nd to last but the wait was well worth it. What looks like a wasteland holding a derelict building of brothel-type activities on the outside actually holds a nice modern flat which I share with Claire. We have matching rooms, just one is blue and mine is green. There’s AC, a balcony and a nicer TV than anything I’ve ever owned already filled up with a variety of international and Russian channels. The only downside is that the sun doesn’t hit any of the windows in any of the directions so you can’t really see without the light on. A small price to pay for not dying of heatstroke in your own home. Leaving the house involves walking over the unkempt  desert-type land that they call a street here. Most of the roads have a small ditch running alongside it, meaning that you have to do a little skip to not fall in. Or you can just wear sunglasses that deteriorate your peripheral vision and just fall in 3 times like I did on my 1^st day.

I put a filter on it to make it seem less dodgy

My room in panoramic form

A ditch I fell down

Wasteland, basically

The currency here is providing me with my life-long dream to be a drug dealer. Except without the drugs, and just me sat counting hundreds of notes waiting for my Nokia 3210 to ring. The largest note they have here is 5000 Som, worth just over a pound. Considering that stuff isn’t excessively expensive, it just means that you’re stood there like a nob counting out 55,000 worth of 1000 notes for your shopping only for the checkout lady to snatch it out your hand and use her rather useful counting machine.

bare dolla

Supermarkets here seem to be oddly priced; most likely due to their home-grown produce and imports. An aubergine was about 30p, whereas a tin of beans was a little over £2.50. On the plus side, they recognise that the condition of “insatiable appetite” does exist; aka not being able to stop eating a pack of biscuits once it’s opened. They sell biscuits individually! I tried to buy just the one, exercising a level of self-control yet to be seen when it comes to food. Unfortunately Aziz at the counter informed me that you must buy a minimum of 40g for the scales to recognise it. Hence I now have 40g of chocolate biscuit melting on the table.

Haven’t come into contact with that many Uzbeks. Only the book-stall owners in the market at the end of the road where I pretended I wanted to buy a book in order to practice my Russian. Kind of backfired as I was sent down the line while each owner tried to sell me a variety of “teach yourself Uzbek” books for children, whilst I had to explain that they were far too advanced compared to my current level of 0. A group of us went out for lunch and the waitress, Anya, seemed scared of our foreignness. Therefore she bought over a guy to speak English to us whilst we spoke Russian back to him, and he relayed the information to Anya. A mass of confusion and rubbery tasting feta cheese ensued.

 School, aka work, has been chilled for my first 2 days. Day one consisted of a tour, then coffee and lunch and then we were pretty much free so naturally we ended up at the local Irish pub. Day two consisted of moving some books around and setting up the science lab. Hopefully it will get more strenuous because it’s rather stressful having nothing to constantly moan about.