Mark and I at a local wedding.
The Aktobe mosque.
Inside a yurt at the beach.
Inside my main bus.
French meatloaf at a cafe - not sure what makes it French, though.
"Kurt" balls: sour milk dried up into balls; a nasty bar snack.
Samsa - yummy, flaky, triangular grilled cheese sandwiches sold on the street.
Me and Melissa playing in the woods near my crib.

Photos:
Touching the handprint of Kazakhstan's prez, the cowboy themed party in Aktobe, Halloween Day at an American holiday-themed summer camp with other buds in Balkash, Baiterek tower in Astana (capital), frisbee at a city park, hangin at the embassy on July 4th, and playin at the beach in Balkash (that's Johnny).

Summer here is so fun. It's gorgeous here - hot summers , like Michigan, but with less rain and humidity. Across the street there are tons of gardens and a river thats sweet to swim in during the day. When I'm sweaty after playing frisbee in the city, and return at night, I just flop in the river and wash up. It's peaceful. I've got some buds that I hang with some nights. I've been gettin really into 17-19th century American history (and, eek, the TV show, Glee).

I love these songs:
Altynbek's "Akkuymsyn ansgan"
Yerbolat's "Men kazakhpyn"

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KciHBNhJHEY

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nwk3V_a61pc

Pictures:

Rascal boys that climb trees around my apartment and yell my name out the window while I'm sleeping.

Some 5th grade girls.

My good friend, Melissa, and my favorite spot in my town.

cemetery in my village

the "moonsha" (bathing sauna).

PICS:
my new building: i live on the second floor.
new bedroom: pretty simple and cozy.
new market that just opened: total chaos at the grand opening - old grannies stampeding thru the door, babies crying.... this market is a big deal for our village.
my new bike!: kinda a clunker, but cool. usually only old men and little boys ride bikes, but..i couldnt resist.
other stuff in my village: a student at my school and his lil pup, some cottages across the street, and a lil fish from the river nearby.
a mausoleum i visited in turkistan: went on vacation to shymkent.

I finally experienced the much anticipated branch-wacking ritual during my weekly sauna bath. Two Russian dudes appeared while I was bathing and the older one actually spoke kazakh, which was super convenient. After a few questions in the dry sauna, he told me to lay on my stomach. I did as he was told and got whipped with a thick branch full of dry leaves. He whipped me head-to-toe, told me to turn around and repeated it on the front of my body. It was cool, for obvious reasons. Then he made me follow him to the bathing quarter where he dumped a bucket of cold water over me. Minutes later, he gave me one of his beers and the three of us sat naked, talking and sipping on beer and tea.
Then he invited me over for dinner. I had tea with his family that night and some of his children spoke some kazakh because they grew up in a predominantly kazakh village. It was crazy to hear them speak it. The son invited me to go fishing with him this summer.

I tried boiled camel's meat a few days ago. Tasted like boiled beef. Not my favorite thing in this world. Takes me back to the time when I nibbled on a goat's nose (or ear, I forget) when it was served to me at a feast or when I sipped sour, fermented goat's milk. Of these new meats I think horse has so far been the best. It all makes me kinda miss piggies, but everyone here detests that; so much that the root of the word for pig (“shoshka”) means FEAR!!! muah hah hahhhhhh. So I always get a funny rise out of them when I say that I don't eat meat now, but I used to love pig.

I'm still loving living here with Gulzira and Meirambai. In the evening when he's taxi driving, she prepares dinner and in intervals dances in the living room in the dark, wearing her apron, to Kazakh pop music on the TV.

Today I hitched a ride home after ice skating and the driver asked if I was a Nazi. He said it so matter-of-factly, as if it was common to encounter Nazis. ….Strange.

I've been realizing more and more the tradeoffs of having a communal society. As said before, people eat off the same plate and bathe together. I see 10 year olds hitchhiking to their friends home because people view each other as family. Kids help each other in class all the time. These are cool things. But it all comes at the consequence of lost indiviualism and freedom of expression. When you ask someone about themselves they say, “We believe that...” or “Us Kazakhs do this or that” as opposed to “I think that....” They're so used to agreeing with each other and thinking as a collective. In class, if you ask each student what their favorite dish is or if they like garlic and onions, their answers are always the same: “Beshbarmak” and “No!” I don't see much of a variety in haircuts, clothing styles, views on religion, opinions on government, food tastes, music tastes, interests. I've reached a point where I get excited if I see a guy with a red scarf or hear a person decline milk with their tea. They're a rebel to me. Haha.

Pics: Textbook pictures

Some unusual things I found in my 5th grade textbook. How do you like the depiction of nationalities? For the lesson on eye and hair color – was is necessary for the black kid to stick his ears out and the girl to stretch her eye lids? And notice the standards that're set for girls and careers. …...these books.....

A few different meaningless expressions compared: If someone calls for you from a distance, we respond with “Yeah / Huh / What!”, but here they say “Ow!” But then our painful “Ow!” is “Ai!” here. Our “Oh boy / Geez / Oh my” is “Oi bai!” here. If someone expresses mild surprise or indirect disapproval, like if you show your dad some worms you found or are cooking an unknown meal, we say an un-enthusiastic “Ohhhh / Ai yai yai”, but here it's “Mehhhhhhhh”. I often hear Oi bai, Mehhh, Ow, and Ai.

Pic: Mayonnaise.

Any bad (or good) habit that I had in America has been supplemented by an addiction and over-consumption of fatty mayonnaise. I mean, I put it on everything. I go through two tubes a week. In the summer I'm going to sweat out mayo. I might need an intervention soon.

I finally found popcorn seeds at the bazaar. Popcorn is pretty rare here. I made some at home – with honey, butter and cinnamon. My roommate loved it and excitedly asked where I bought the popcorn. So once I showed her the seeds and told her that people can actually make it at home she went hysterical. She was bent over picking at it quickly like a bird. It was funny.