Peace Corps Kyrgyzstan

Home Again.

2006-10-15T09:31:00.000-05:00

On Friday the 13th of October 2006 I returned safely to the Twin Cities. I hope to post some last photos, a couple of audio tracks and to write a final entry or two wrapping up my Peace Corps experience in Kyrgyzstan. But for now, I am going to order a pizza and watch Sunday NFL football.

signing off,

Larry

Suleyman Mountain Sunrise

2006-08-17T01:12:00.000-05:00

Young Man training atop Mount Suleyman before a rising sun. Osh, Kyrgyzstan: Aug.13th, 2006.

2006-08-13T04:03:00.000-05:00

Battling the Sun: August 13th, 2006--Mount Suleyman: Osh, Kyrgyzstan

2006-08-12T01:12:00.000-05:00

Dawn of Osh: (taken August 10, 2006) People always ask me why i get up so early in the morning. This is my answer. Note: the photo of the moon below was taken just a few minutes before this one.

2006-08-12T01:09:00.000-05:00

As the rising August sun burns from the east, the evening's cooler counterpoint seeks shelter behind Mount Suleyman.

2006-08-12T01:05:00.000-05:00

Mount Suleyman, Osh: this monolith sits prominently at the peak of Suleyman Too (Too means mountain). I climb up here a few times each week in the early morning and read. When the sun rises the heat kicks up to about 105 degrees fahrenheit...

The Weeping Man

2006-08-07T00:32:00.000-05:00

The man was half-naked, his bronze chest streaked with drying mud, “Ayeeeeeeeeeeeee!” he screamed, throwing his arms in the air, “I don’t want this! I don’t want it.” He collapsed in a heap, folding awkwardly upon himself like some abandoned puppet.

I watched him from my balcony, as a theatre-goer might watch a thespian. Then, the reality of it—of him—needled its way into my emotional fabric. I looked east, down the long front side of my apartment building, and saw heads emerging from windows and other beings stepping onto terraces to stare at this man wrapped in terror and pain and sadness.

His crumpled form sat below me, perhaps ten feet away and I could see his back swell and deflate under his breath.

A stillness invaded the courtyard and a silence crept out of the madness of the world and appeared to be moving toward him, hunting for him. He wailed and the guttural, inchoate sounds that came out of him seemed dredged up from some darker, primordial day.

I shuddered but continued watching.

He breathed, sucking air over his teeth and again let out that aborted, primeval noise… he drew in another breath and again returned his torment to the world…

Slowly, out of this repetition a rhythm was born and these methodic sobs crashed forth like great waves tugged from the sea by the moon.

It seemed he cried for all of us and tethered his tears to our souls through the enchanting sound of that sad mantra.

I sighed deeply and withdrew, but I will never forget the weeping man.

Lessons Learned in Kyrgyzstan

2006-07-28T19:30:00.000-05:00

“Come with me.” He said and put his arm around my shoulder. We walked outside onto the porch and into the fresh air, then down the stairs and into the flower garden. In the distance I saw a group of children playing soccer and others completing their yard work. The grounds of the orphanage included stables, a few acres of farmland, a pig pen and dozens of caged bunnies.

“You see,” he said, “I used to get drunk every night and chase women. I lived most of my life like that. One day I asked myself, Stephan, what have you done with your life—what do you have to show for yourself?—and the answer was nothing.”

He leaned over and stuck his nose in the white blossoms of a rose and inhaled.

He raised his head and we continued strolling, “At that point in my life I already had a fairly successful business, but I realized that didn’t matter. I looked around and saw all of these children on the streets, abandoned and begging. And I said, there’s something I can do.”

Several of the children spotted Stephan outside and began shouting, “Pappa! Pappa!” A little, sandy-haired girl with wide eyes glowing above her smile sprinted into Stephan’s arms. He lifted her up and looked at me, “now I have twenty-one children that all call me pappa and everything I do, I do for them.”

I took another look around the orphanage and felt as though I was in the center of big family. Stephan knelt and set the little girl back down and looked up into my eyes, “Life should be about love.”

2006-07-27T05:21:00.000-05:00

Veteran Aksakal (respectful term for elderly Kyrgyz men). Photo taken in Osh by Larry Tweed Jr. (aka my father).

2006-07-25T05:25:00.000-05:00

Petraglyph on Lake Issyk Kul, Kyrgyzstan.

2006-07-19T20:12:00.000-05:00

Day trip to Kurshab in June. Dan and Vanessa showed us a great time!

2006-07-13T23:13:00.000-05:00

Kids at the orphanage on Lake Issyk Kul. They were great!

2006-07-13T23:10:00.000-05:00

These orphaned children had a blast!

2006-07-13T23:01:00.000-05:00

Glenn & Linda Brown (AKA "The Buddhists") at Lake Issyk Kul.

2006-07-13T22:58:00.000-05:00

Glenn Brown and kids work with puppets behind the scenes. Light cast from a lamp behind them creates the effects you see in the photo below.

2006-07-13T22:56:00.000-05:00

Shadow Puppets at an orphanage on Lake Issyk Kul. The story is about a grandfather who grows a giant turnip but can't pull it from the ground. It takes his whole family to free the stubborn turnip and a dog, cat and mouse help out too.

2006-07-11T12:57:00.000-05:00

Notice the cuts in the puppets which allows lights to shine through when they cast shadows on the sheet.

2006-07-11T12:54:00.000-05:00

Dima loved helping out and asked me when I would be back. I told him I didn't know.

New Technology at our Center!

2006-06-28T05:41:00.000-05:00

A couple of weeks ago we purchased our Television, Satellite dish, DVD player and few other odds and ends for the Center for American Studies. Now students have access to 3 english language news stations (BBC, EuroNews and CNNi) to improve their listening comprehension, pronunciation, vocabulary and knowledge of world events. The news channels are turned on (according to our posted schedule) 2 hours each day and we have two movie clubs as well.

I'll have to post some new photos of our center soon. Gotta run!

Larry

FIRST ANNUAL OSH STATE UNIVERSITY FILM FESTIVAL!!!

2006-06-21T03:15:00.000-05:00

Please see the advertisement below regarding the First Annual Osh State University Film Festival. Entries will be accepted from around the world.

CALL FOR ENTRIES
FIRST ANNUAL
OSH STATE UNIVERSITY
FILM FESTIVAL
OSH, KYRGYZSTAN
SEPTEMBER 5TH AND 6TH 2006

(Please include the following information along with your entry)
Title:
Date Completed:
Director Producer Name/Organization (if any):
Address:
City:
State:
Zip:

DVD Format Only (Sorry Compatibility Issues)

Synopsis:

Running time:

History : Festivals, TV, awards, etc. (will be used for programming notes)

(By submitting your film, you agree to the following)
LEGAL STUFF: I understand that submission of my work authorizes the Osh State Film Fest to use the work for exhibition, education and/or publicity purposes related to the festival; that the Festival will handle DVDs with a maximum of care but cannot be held liable for any damage or loss during shipping, preview, or screening; and that the Festival is also not responsible for any claim involving copyright, trademark, credits, or royalty infringement related to the work. Work will not be returned !! But it will become part of a really cool permanent collection on Indie Film in Kyrgyzstan (that will be used for educational purposes only).

Signature_________________________________________________________

Send Entries (and a copy of this completed form) to:
Glenn Brown
Osh State University
Faculty of World Languages
250 Kurmanjan-Datka St.
Kyrgyzstan, Osh
714000

***BECAUSE OF SHIPPING COSTS FROM THE U.S. WE WILL WAIVE ALL ENTRY FEES***

2006-06-07T20:05:00.000-05:00

My Dad (wearing Uzbek Doppi), Tolkun and me in my apartment in Osh.

2006-06-07T20:04:00.000-05:00

My friend (Zahid's) little sister in their tomato fields.

2006-06-07T19:58:00.000-05:00

Portal into my world: View from a Yak-40.

2006-06-07T19:55:00.000-05:00

The tiny Russian Yak-40 jet that I fly in each time I go to Bishkek. The plane ride takes 50 minutes; by car it's 12-14 hours.

2006-06-07T19:50:00.000-05:00

Bishkek Sunset.

2006-05-15T12:14:00.000-05:00

Solena, Larry III, Martin, Larry Jr. and Eileen. Martin worked at the place we stayed in Goa and made wonderful suggestions all week long regarding restaurants and sight-seeing so we treated him to dinner one of our final evenings in Goa. Good times.

2006-05-15T12:11:00.000-05:00

Eileen, Dad, Solena in India

2006-05-15T12:04:00.000-05:00

Exploring Infinite...Agra, India. An Indian woman walks the grounds surrounding the Taj Mahal.

2006-05-15T11:57:00.000-05:00

Benaulim's Royal Goan Beach Club. We had 7 relaxing days at this wonderful resort.

2006-05-15T11:55:00.000-05:00

Old Goa. Dog Days for Tourism...

2006-05-15T11:51:00.000-05:00

Goa, India. Fisherman bringing vessel ashore after an early morning venture in the Arabian Sea.

2006-05-15T11:44:00.000-05:00

I was watching these Goan fisherman haul their boat in untill they told me to stop looking and start helping. It took us about 20 minutes to move this boat about 50 yards. Note the wooden planks under the hull are greased every few minutes to reduce friction and pull the boats over the sands

2006-05-15T11:38:00.000-05:00

If I were going to create a mocumentary on Old Goa, India, I would call it Spinal Sap.

2006-05-15T11:24:00.001-05:00

Solena taking in the eye candy that is The Taj.

2006-05-15T11:22:00.000-05:00

In Lay and relief around Taj exterior

2006-05-15T11:20:00.000-05:00

In Lay work of semi-precious stones around the exterior of the Taj Mahal

2006-05-15T11:19:00.000-05:00

Taj Mahal framed in darkness by the main gate

2006-05-15T11:17:00.000-05:00

The Taj Mahal

Going to Goa

2006-04-27T02:50:00.000-05:00

April, 27th: Just a brief update: I will be out of the country from the 28th of April until the 11th of May. I will be meeting my Dad and Eileen in Moscow and then going down to Goa where we will join Solena for a week of rest and relaxation on the breezy Arabian Sea shore.

Be back soon...

Enjoy Life.

Larry Tweed

2006-04-20T21:00:00.000-05:00

Jonathon Codell and Larry Tweed standing on top of the world.

2006-04-17T03:47:00.000-05:00

Chess in the park. Osh, Kyrgyzstan: April 16, 2006

2006-04-17T03:42:00.000-05:00

April 16: Easter Sunday. Check please! These guys are too good!

2006-04-17T03:26:00.000-05:00

Mary & Larry Forever! Me and Liz Cullen's mom on Easter Sunday. Liz Cullen and Rob Bailey's moms came together (along with Kathleen--Liz's sister). We had a great evening filled with laughter.

From Such Darkness We Are Born: Or, Why God Believes in Atheists.

2006-04-11T13:34:00.000-05:00

My world was dark until 30 seconds ago when the velveteen voice of a Muazzin—one who calls Muslims to prayer—drifted into my dreams. I am neither a Muslim nor a Christian. I am nothing but a man, but I find an affinity for those who search for Love, Wisdom and Morality. The Muazzin’s melodic voice, amplified by bull-horn speakers fastened atop a stuccoed minaret, descends upon this city reminding me that devotion is manifest through both words and actions and that our love should be repeated many times each day, every day…

ALLAHU…AKBAR…the long drawn syllables of these two words pour over space and time and suffuse the atmosphere with unassailable beauty. Muazzins from other mosques around the city awaken and a musical round of harmonic devotion begins. I am neither a Muslim nor a Christian. I am nothing but a man, but I love the call to prayer…

The last wails from a distant mosque drift and fuse with the clamor of the waking world. The eastern horizon’s hold on night has come loose like the slow uncapping of a plastic egg. I set aside my dreams and lie upon the faded pillows of my couch, folding my arms behind my head to improve the view outside my window. A morning dove warbles and preens on a bending branch just beyond my balcony. Below, a dog knocks over a water pale, woofs and scutters off. I rise and stretch and yawn like a lazy lion.

Before long, the white enameled kettle on the grease splattered two burner stove is boiling and steaming. I turn off the gas and spoon two heaps of Dunn Brothers’ dark roasted Sumatran grounds into my plastic coffee press. I lift the kettle off the stove, tip the spout and watch a thick stream of hot clear water pour over the grounds, extracting their dark essence from within. I place the lid and screen over the press, leave the coffee steeping and go back into my studio to gather the dishes I scattered about the night before. Wedging cups and bowls, pans and utensils between curling clenched fingers, I walk gingerly back to the kitchen and deposit the flea-market of dishes into my sink. The rich aroma of coffee has already filled the air around the room. I take the ball of the press and force the rod and filter down, through the water, to the cylinder’s inner base. The liquid inside turns completely opaque.

A few minutes later I’m standing on my balcony sipping my Sumatran. Beyond the courtyard’s scallop-roofed shanties a perfect nickel-sized sun shines listlessly through the fog that has wrapped the world in a blurry gauze. I stand on my balcony and sip my steaming coffee. Shadows hang in the morning mist—dark apparitions trapped in the vapors of a rainy, ink-washed night. Even from up here, I smell the earth and think about my mother. Spring is her season. I remember watching her once while she was planting. She spread her fingers and sank them long up to their webs and balled a palm-full of earth like an ice cream scoop and raised it to her nose. She closed her eyes and inhaled the decaying, musty loam…and then she smiled knowingly.

From such darkness we are born.

2006-03-25T20:37:00.000-06:00

Remembering Days of Old: Osh, Kyrgyzstan

2006-03-25T20:34:00.000-06:00

Osh, Kyrgyzstan: March 24, 2006

2006-03-23T05:03:00.000-06:00

Nooruz Morning: March 21st, 2006: Soviet Silhouette. Largest statue of Lenin in Kyrgyzstan.

2006-03-23T04:54:00.000-06:00

March 21st, 2006: Nooruz (Central Asian/Muslim/Persian New Year). Swinging Fun in the Park.

2006-03-23T04:51:00.000-06:00

Dancing Widows: Nooruz Holiday

2006-03-23T04:48:00.000-06:00

Dancing Uzbek Girls: Osh City, Nooruz Holiday, March 21, 2006

2006-03-23T04:40:00.000-06:00

Kyrgyz Salsa on Nooruz in Osh

2006-03-23T04:34:00.000-06:00

Nooruz: Bubbles in the park

2006-03-23T04:23:00.000-06:00

Nooruz: Balloons for sale.

Music of Central Asia in NY City Next Week!

2006-03-13T03:48:00.000-06:00

The Music of Central Asia on Stage in New York, Tuesday, March 21, 2006:

Exile from Kabul, Fourteenth-Century Poetry in Tajikistan, and the Music of Nomadic Kyrgyzstan

Ranging from Kabul to Samarkand, VIA KABUL: Central Asia Without Borders features Homayun Sakhi, admired as the outstanding Afghan rubab player of his generation, Tengir-Too, a Kyrgyz ensemble that reveals the passions and rhythms of mountain nomads, and The Academy of Maqam, which sets mystical, Sufi-inspired verse to lyrical melodies that were once played in the pleasure domes of Samarkand and Bukhara.

Tuesday, March 21
8:00 pm Concert
Miller Theatre at Columbia University
116th & Broadway
New York City
$15 tickets for the public, call the Miller Box Office 212-854-7799 or visit in person M - F 12 – 6 PM

Co-presented by the Aga Khan Music Initiative in Central Asia and the Columbia University Arts Initiative.

Click Here for more information on the NYC concert.

Additional concert dates in DC, TX, NM, and OH:

ENJOY THE SHOW!!!

2006-03-12T07:58:00.000-06:00

New Crustacean Discovered in Osh, Kyrgyzstan!!!! Who would've thought that in one of the most land-locked countries in the world, you could almost have fresh lobster. This giant crayfish was plucked from the icy waters of Papan reservoir (southeast of Osh) and brought, along with twenty of his clawed kin, to market at the Osh Bazaar.

2006-03-08T02:03:00.000-06:00

Center for American Studies: Students working on the computers that were purchased with funding from the Peace Corps Partnerhship Project. The students would like to give their sincere thanks to all of you who donated to this project. The computers are used all day long, 6 days/week.

2006-03-08T01:52:00.000-06:00

Center for American Studies: Osh, Kyrgyzstan. This is where i work! In the background you can see my colleague, Cholpon, and fellow volunteer Bryan Schubert.

2006-03-08T01:46:00.000-06:00

Students working at the Center for American Studies. Thanks again to all of those people who contributed to the Peace Corps Partnership Project!

2006-03-08T01:39:00.000-06:00

Winter mountains

Rhythms Hidden in the White Noise of Rain

2006-03-08T00:27:00.000-06:00

Spring rains beat against the cold earth pounding softness back into the soil like a cook tenderizing a slab of meat. I stand before the window, place my hands on the sill and lean forward. The glass steams under my breath. Neither my eyes nor mind can focus as the unremitting rains blur the world outside. I’m reminded of paintings; Vegetable Garden at the Hermitage and Waterloo Bridge—and in seeing the world softly smudged as I do, I feel a sort of kinship with Pisarro and Monet.

I stare beyond the knobby branches of the apple tree, passed the rusty rebar and steel girded gardens, across the cratered, puddling dirt road. I stare into the empty space between the drops of rain—how oddly silent it is, a concert without sound. Out there, you would hear the drops explode in puddles and smack against the budding branches. Out there, your hair would clump and mat to your brow while the tops of your thighs darkened with rain.

Warm and dry, I muse by the window as motes of dust settle silently upon me—and then I go...Out there.

Smoke In The Wind

2006-02-10T22:03:00.000-06:00

On one particular block in Osh, twelve grills turn the fires of undusted coal into moist, spiced, saliva-producing shish-kebob (here it’s called shashlik). Some believe this shashlik alters the minds of men, others claims the psychotropic effects emanate from the shamanistic hands of those who turn the raw wet meat into art on a stick. The following story is true.

Sizzling skewers packed with cubes of beef and mutton drizzle their fat onto the glowing coals that burn in waste-high grills tended by sullen men in bloodied butcher’s garb. Oils from these burning brochettes lacquer the fingers and faces of the chefs who tend them. Combine this unnatural lacquer with the repeated skewer-turning and coal-arranging and you have a bizarre army of mechanical meat-turning mimes.

I enter the enshrouded neighborhood and saunter passed the sizzling troughs of spiced meats. The Smoke rising from the kebobs tickles my nostrils and peppers my eyes with specs of ash. I remember steak dinners back home and my mouth gushes with saliva as my eyes burn with soot. I allow my eyelids to close, fill with tears, and then I open them again.

I pan to the right, and the world bends like the mirrors of a funhouse. The pock-marked nose of a woman selling plastic tubes of salad inflates beyond the proportions of her face. I realize the tears are distorting my vision and blink again, rinsing away the fluid that lingered on the lenses of my eyes. The woman’s nose has deflated and she sits on a crate behind her table, wrapped in wool, solemn and content like her salad. The army of lacquered mimes continues to move mechanically over their troughs of speared-meats. They seem indefatigable…eternal.

I cross the street and continue onward. Only a wiff of shashlik remains, lightly adrift, whispering like the molted skin of a snake on a stone. I wonder if my memory of this place will dissipate and fade away as smoke in the wind.

2006-02-09T02:48:00.000-06:00

Nate Smith working some MacGyver action on the short-wave radio for NFL Play-offs. After stripping the wire of a TV antennae and jamming the tassled copper ends into the Yacht-boy shortwave, we were able to receive the Steelers-Broncos Playoff game broadcast on Armed Forces Radio and relayed from somewhere in South America.

2006-02-09T02:40:00.000-06:00

Royal Beach Resort--Lake Issyk Kul (2nd largest alpine lake in the world). This is where the K12 Peace Corps Volunteers stayed for our Mid-Service Training. My first time to lake. This photo was take around 7:15AM

I am back

2006-02-07T22:50:00.000-06:00

Snowstorms and airports, hotels and taxis. Last week I was stranded in the capital of Kyrgyzstan, living a Sisyphean life between shuttling to the airport in the morning and returning, dejected, to the hotel in the evening. Osh received a gracious 4 feet of snow in a three day period of time--hence the no-flight scenario.

Back in Osh and the weather has been a balmy 55 degrees the last three days. All the snow has nearly disappeared and sinkholes are emerging all over the city. A married volunteer couple here in Osh (Glen and Linda--who I've come to calling "Glenda") had a sink hole emerge smack dab in the middle of their host-family's property. They say they can hear the rats scurrying around in the space the hole has created beneath the foundation of the building and the floorboards. Nothing like the pleasant sound of pestilent rodents to help you sleep.

I'll be writing more soon. Hope all is well.

Larry

Often in Life, the Reverse is True.

2006-01-13T15:07:00.000-06:00

The Shock…oddly not so shocking. Perhaps I overbuilt, over-anticipated and over-analyzed it. Perhaps, since I’ve done this before, the waves from previous shocks canceled themselves out. Or, maybe, I’ve simply grown callus and thick-skinned. At any rate, the event of not experiencing what travelers have tritely termed “Reverse Culture Shock” has, in fact, left me shocked.

Perplexed might be better word for it. Returning to the U.S. from previous sojourns in foreign lands, resulted in shock and awe. I remember arriving home from six months in S.E. Asia and laying on the couch for days, my mouth agape, a pool of spittle darkly expanding into the pillow’s blue fabric as my drying retinas captured thousands of images on CNN.

After another six month trip in Indonesia, I remember looking into the eyes of average Americans and thinking there are whole other worlds and harsher realities that you are free to ignore. And I remember, simultaneously pitying and admiring those who preferred the safety of the shadows in Plato’s cave, over exploring what’s beyond the walls of their coddled world. Sounds harsh and arrogant, I know. But remember, I was in college; young, idealistic and empowered by a new vision of the world, so I don’t think this view was as arrogant as it was selfishly naïve—I had simply wanted everyone to understand and see the world with the same eyes I had.

That was in 1996 and I remember the guilt I experienced for having left behind those on the island of Sumatra who had shared their lives, their food and their friendship with me. The Indonesian people I’d met had shown me that the world was indeed harsher than any reality I’d known back home. Yet, they’d also taught me that their struggle to survive could bring entire communities together in beneficent ways I’d never experienced before. How could I forget them so easily—I wondered one day, while sipping cappuccino and journaling in my laptop at my cozy local café.

And now I journal again—this time from Kyrgyzstan. And I am shocked—shocked at how easy it was to return to my life back home in the U.S. I wasn’t surprised by the oft caricaturized gluttonous consumerism we Americans partake in. I wasn’t amazed at the unreflective ease with which we whisk away our waste: our trash disappears by truck and our turds go down the toilet—easy as apple pie. I wasn’t stunned by the apathy we Americans display towards our government: the gross deficit spending; the federal indictments of politicians on corruption and obstruction of justice charges; or, the executive branch’s impingement on the same Freedoms that we ironically hold up as beacons for other “emerging democracies” to follow.

Reverse Culture Shock? Nope. This time when I returned to America, it was pretty much how I expected it to be. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to sound cynical. I love the United States. I love the opportunities and freedoms it affords me. I love serving my country as a Peace Corps Volunteer. I love my friends, my family, my latte from my little corner café. I love that I don’t have to bribe the mailman to get my mail. I love that I can drink water from the tap. I love that I rarely see used hypodermic needles on the street and that there is little bent rebar for children to impale themselves on. I love that the manholes are covered. These are all really good things about the U.S. that I love and all I’m trying to say is, I wasn’t shocked by the culture when I returned after being away for over 15 months.

Of course, there were the little differences that I will tell my fellow Peace Corps Volunteers about. The choices for diet, low-fat, low-cal, low-cholesterol, low-carb foods seem to have expanded by an exponent of 10.

And then there’s those little blue tooth microphones parasitically attached to an ear of every male between the age of 25 and 40. Wandering through the shoe section of a department store, I thought yuppie schizophrenia was plaguing our nation, “Honey,” one well-groomed man said endearingly as he looked under the tongue of a Nike sneaker for what I could only assume was his imaginary wife. I stared at him for a moment wanting to say, “Trust me pal, if you think your wife’s in there then you’ve got bigger problems than figuring out which pair of running shoes to buy.” He set the Nike down, picked up an Adidas and went on talking, “remember the Shelton’s girl doesn’t eat meat…uh ha…yeah, or maybe we could just order her a pizza.” It wasn’t until he caught my gaze and cocked his head that I realized this was some sort of new communications device employed to induce recently returned Peace Corps Volunteers into feeling ashamed for even thinking that a man who talks to Tennis shoes might be a few California rolls shy of a sushi platter.

But overall, things haven’t changed that much. And in some ways, I am thankful for the stasis. My friends and family are still the intelligent, caring, friendly folks they’ve always been. My girlfriend still amazes me with her emotional empathy, intellectual curiosity and overall excitement towards life. And the beer, oh the beer…it’s as bubbly and belch inducing as ever.

I met a few new people on my visit home; Solena’s parents and her good friends being among the most important—oh, but don’t let me forget the new babies too, Skylar, Will, Max and a few of my old favorites Loren and Fisher.

I got to see Penn State win the Orange bowl in triple over-time and Texas upset USC. The Pittsburgh Steelers walloped Cincinnati and I watched Kevin Garnett (live at the Target Center) dunk on the Mavericks.

In short, things seemed to be in order back home. I’m now back in Kyrgyzstan (AKA Home #2) and things here seem pretty much the same too. Four beautiful, equalizing inches of snow have blanketed Osh. Trash has disappeared beneath the pristine glitter of white crystals and everyone seems more alive, more dimensional on top of that snow—it feels like we are all sketches come to life, dancing atop the same white page we were once penciled onto.

As for the rest of the news back here Kyrgyzstan, well, it looks like I will be on an extended vacation from the Center for American Studies. Osh State University’s campus is closed (meaning no heat) until February 1st. So, I’ve been asked to hold tight till then. Don’t worry, I know how to keep myself busy. We are working on a grant for dictionaries, TOEFL materials and (a long shot) an LCD projector. Grant deadline: 11 days.

Well, that’s all I got folks.

Take care,

Larry Tweed

.My Peace Corps Colleagues Rock!!!

2005-12-17T23:55:00.000-06:00

Peace Corps Volunteers in Osh have contributed significantly to the Center for American Studies (CAS). Every volunteer in Osh has donated time, energy or resources (including books, sports equipment, cd/tape player, headphones, USB connectors, DVDs, educational CD-ROMs, etc.) to CAS. As a result of Peace Corps Volunteers’ contributions and my local colleagues’ commitment to improving the Center, CAS has become one of the most popular places in Osh for students and educators to meet, read, study and discuss (in English) all things Western.

Accordingly, my sincere thanks goes out to the recently departed K11 PCVs, the enduring and highly respectable group of K12s (my group) and the newly arrived and devoted K13s. The Center would not be what it is today without the dedication that these Volunteers have shown. Thank you all and Happy Holidays!

Speaking of Holidays, I will be returning to the U.S. for a visit over Christmas and New Years. I am extremely excited to reunite with my family and friends and spend time with my wonderful girlfriend Solena. If you would like to get in contact with me between December 26-29th I can be reached at (814) 255-6028; from January 1st—9th I can be reached at Solena’s home at (651) 695-9292.

Take care and see or talk with you soon.

Sincerely,

Larry Tweed

2005-12-05T20:41:00.000-06:00

Me in my hat and beard.

Thanksgiving

2005-11-25T05:42:00.000-06:00

3 Turkeys
7 kilos (15 pounds) of mashed potatoes
7 pies
8 cans of corn
8 bottles of champagne
1 batch of pumpkin soup
2 cans of cranberry sauce
5 salads
1 football
1 apartment
23 people
20 months since last eating turkey
1 heck of a Thanksgiving!

Clarity

2005-11-17T17:00:00.000-06:00

Today, while strolling up a dirt road in Osh, I was reminded of why I love living here. A gray-bearded, rope wielding, elfin looking man walked passed me, flogging his horned goats to pasture. It wasn’t simply bearing witness to this act which made me reflect on my surroundings, there was something else too…

We had our first frost this morning. The air was clearer than usual and the morning sun glittered off the crystal glazed silver earth. It reminded me of those first few frozen mornings of Minnesota winter, when I’d walk out to my car and notice the sun’s rays passing through a tree’s dark, barren branches—those stark, textured skeletons reaching skyward like the knobby fingers of a cackling witch suddenly enveloped in white light.

Everything becomes so clear and captured in those cold mornings that we can see our own breath, feel our eyes glaze with tears and our cheeks turn ruddy with blood. These are the mornings when we understand poetry and appreciate song. These are the mornings when life seems more valuable than the things we’ve amassed. These are the mornings when we understand why we are alive.

Enjoy them. I know I do.

Larry Tweed

Center for American Studies, Osh, Kyrgyzstan

2005-11-09T21:34:00.000-06:00

We finally have internet at the Center for American Studies!!! Thanks again to all of those who contributed to the Peace Corps Partnership Project. The new computers have been in use non-stop since we brought them in 2 1/2 weeks ago. I hope to post some photos of our center, our students and our staff in the near future. We have all been very busy and one of my colleagues, Miraj (pronounced "mirage"), recently learned that he was chosen (among hundreds) to go to the United States for a 6 month "Junior Faculty Development Program". Here's the kicker, it sounds like he will be studying at the University of Minnesota.

That's the quick update from Kyrgyzstan. Take care folks,

Larry

2005-11-02T00:11:00.000-06:00

Bearded Superhero. If only you could see the red Fruit of the Looms that I had on over my black leotards...

2005-10-31T00:33:00.000-06:00

Brian's Colleagues

2005-10-31T00:29:00.000-06:00

John Copenhaver---Most Frightening Costume!

2005-10-31T00:23:00.000-06:00

What would you do with a Russian sailor--What would you do with a Russian sailor?

2005-10-31T00:21:00.000-06:00

ARGH!

2005-10-31T00:20:00.000-06:00

STOP--You're Under Arrest!!!

2005-10-31T00:19:00.000-06:00

Eric and Ian--What a cute couple!

2005-10-24T02:04:00.000-05:00

You want me to go in there?

2005-10-24T02:01:00.000-05:00

The Next Reality TV Show: Peace Corps Volunteers Gone Wild!

2005-10-24T01:59:00.000-05:00

Staring contest with Dragon Fly. I lost.

2005-10-24T01:57:00.000-05:00

Fishing on the Papan reservoir.

2005-10-19T02:44:00.000-05:00

Staredown

2005-10-19T02:42:00.000-05:00

Sun on the river valley.

2005-10-19T02:40:00.000-05:00

Kyrgyzstan Snake: Close up

2005-10-19T02:39:00.000-05:00

Snake on a day hike outside Osh

2005-10-19T02:37:00.000-05:00

Papan reservoir: just 20 minutes from Osh.

ONCE UPON A TIME IN KYRGYZSTAN

2005-10-13T01:03:00.000-05:00

Last week's discussion on Time Management actually turned out to be a lot of fun. Bethany Burns, a University Teacher, added some interesting facts: Synchronization of European and U.S. watches took place for the first time in 1912. Why? Because everybody wanted to know the exact time that the Titanic sunk. We also talked about the U.S. perception of time and how that influences our speech and culture. For instance: Time is money--Ben Franklin. Don't waste time. You can save time by... etc. I find this equation of time with money fascinating and think it speaks to our values and why we are such a productive (meaning our labor output is darn high) society. But do we miss out on anything becuase of this?

At the end of the class, I asked the students if they knew what time the discussion club started. Nearly all 53 of them raised their hands. Then I pointed to the whiteboard (where Nate, another volunteer had been marking each late arrival with a marker). We counted 24 people who arrived late. We all laughed. This is a difficult problem that most volunteers and foreigners face when coming to Kyrgyzstan.

I also faced this Time Issue in Indonesia when I lived there. Indonesia has many rubber plantations and, as you know, rubber is flexible. Accordingly, Indonesians designate tardiness as "Jam Karat" or, Rubber Time.

Here in Kyrgyzstan, it is simply known by the locals as "Kyrgyz Time". When we (PC volunteers) have a meeting with locals, we always ask, "So, does that start on Kyrgyz Time or American Time?" This usually gets a good laugh, since everyone here knows about and acknowledges the cultural Time differences.

Last Night's discussion was on European and United States Relations. Chad (another PCV in Osh) gave a wonderful presentation and then we had the students (again, over 50 showed up) divide into two large groups representing Europe and the U.S. Each side was to come up with 7 interests that these global powers have in common and seven interests that diverge. Then we debated the lists.

The WebCam links on Tuesdays and Thursday has continued to go fairly successfully--though there have been some technical bumps in the road...The students keep coming, I just wish that Osh State University would take a more active role in this. It's supposed to be their opportunity to link with countries around the world and the program has not received any support. All of the other schools have a professor from their institution that runs the course and a classroom to conduct it in. We have neither. The students aren't even getting credit (unlike the other universities) they are just doing it because they are excited to learn about other cultures. Ahhh, I am venting.

Anyway, that's the work update. We are still waiting for our funding to arrive from DC (they said about 3 weeks) so that we can purchase the computers and get them up and running in the Center for American Studies.

Take care folks!

Also, I just want to send out a CONGRATULATIONS TO MY FRIENDS MARNI & GREG on their WEDDING!!!! I am sorry I can't be there to celebrate in person! Miss you guys and I hope to see you over X-mas.

FULLY FUNDED!!! YEE-HAW!!! THANK YOU FRIENDS!!!

2005-10-06T01:10:00.000-05:00

I just wanted to thank everybody who contributed to the Peace Corps Partnership Project. I just received word from HQ that the project was fully funded and that we should be getting the funds in a few weeks. Your contributions will literally change the lives of students by giving them the opportunity to connect with people around the world, learn how to use word processing programs, search for schools and universities that offer study programs for foreign students, write reports, conduct research, etc.

The students are so excited and I am too. Thank you all so very much for contributing!!!

Sincerely,

Larry Tweed
Peace Corps Volunteer
Center for American Studies
Osh, Kyrgyzstan.

Osh, Kyrgyzstan: Revenge of the Stomach Demons

2005-10-04T00:48:00.000-05:00

That's right, I am sick. However, I dropped the A-bomb of antibiotics (Cipro) on the terrorists that hijacked my digestive tract and the warbling cries from my stomach have waned.

News: Today is the beginning of Ramadan.

Last week we held our 10th discussion club. Topic: Gender Issues. Four Peace Corps Volunteers assisted with the discussion and we had over 50 participants. We started the discussion by having the male students write down a list of reasons why they think it is good to be a woman; while the women created a list of why they thought it was good to be a man. This certainly spawned some interesting discussion.

Next Topic: Time Management: Again, the students choose the topics. I think this will actually be fun to talk about the different cultural perceptions of Time. It will also be fun to count how many people wander in late...

The more I adapt to living in Kyrgyzstan the harder it gets to write about Kyrgyzstan. The little peculiarities become common place. For example, I no longer wonder why the base of every street-lined tree is painted white. Or, why do those old ladies walking through the bazaar poke and prod me to move faster--can't they see that there's like 500 people in front of me, which is why I am not moving forward. I've accepted that sandpaper makes a more effective toilet paper and that garbage, when viewed in the right light, just looks like big pieces of confetti after a parade (though I still refuse to litter--even though many well-educated people encourage me to do so). I've also accepted that milk and yogurt should be sold by a lyrical cartel of price-fixing women who wander the sidewalks at 7AM bellowing their song, "Milk, Yogurt, I-Ron".

So, it's been hard to write a bit lately. But I'll work on it...

Take care,

Larry Tweed (Now in the 28th stage of culture shock, AKA, "the banal phase")

2005-09-26T01:41:00.000-05:00

Sunset: Bitez Beach, Aegean Sea

2005-09-26T01:40:00.000-05:00

Belly Dancer: Istanbul, Turkey.

2005-09-26T01:38:00.000-05:00

Istanbul Restaurant: This man was singing a popular Egyptian song about Iraq. The lyrics were translated by the Egyptian man sitting next to me and they went something like this: I wish I were a doctor so that I could heal our ailing brother, Iraq. Brother you are in so much pain, I wish I were a doctor so that I could take your pain away...

2005-09-26T01:35:00.000-05:00

Topkapi Palace: Istanbul, Turkey.

2005-09-26T01:33:00.000-05:00

Istanbul Beatle.

2005-09-26T01:29:00.000-05:00

Peak-a-boo!

2005-09-26T01:26:00.000-05:00

Istanbul: Dangling Baby. Who said Michael Jackson still doesn't have influence?

2005-09-26T01:24:00.000-05:00

Blue Mosque (which faces Aya Sophia): Istanbul Turkey

Istanbul: Not Constantinople: Below You Will Find Photos of One Peace Corps Volunteer's Dream Vacation with His Girlfriend.

2005-09-21T03:51:00.000-05:00

Finally, I've been able to post some of the photos I took on my vacation to Turkey with Solena. We had an amazing time. I hope these photos are able to capture some of the magic and mystery looming in the ancient city of Istanbul as well as some of the more modern delights of the Aegean coast. Enjoy--we sure did!

Sincerely,

Larry Tweed

2005-09-21T03:40:00.000-05:00

Bodrum: Harbor. Notice the sugar-cube architecture of the houses and business in the background.

2005-09-21T03:38:00.000-05:00

Istanbul: Solena on Bridge.