Orientation

 Salut,

Orientation feels like waiting at a hotel attached to an airport, with constant meals and food, for an entire week. It is a week of learning Kyrgyz, going over policies and expectations, and meeting, and getting to know the PC staff, who are all overwhelmingly friendly and warm.
There is a sense of waiting. I have a room I share with a fellow trainee, but the room is small enough that I have not opened my checked bag or really unpacked it. I’m using my small hotel toiletries and using the clothing in my carry-on bag because there’s not a ton of room to open it.
Other staff members have told me that our cohort is unique. We don’t have cliques and we’re all, as I said before, nondiverse in age range. I said on the first day that my room is everyone’s room. We’ve gotten a routine, despite it only being five days or so, but the routine will not last, which is an unusual feeling. It is like being in a holding pattern.
Every day is similar. We wake up, eat breakfast at the guesthouse. Waking up to the view of the mountains is something I am still getting used to. The weather is pleasant, a cool mid-70s throughout the day, occasionally 80s. I fully expect it to get hotter in July, but contrasting to my usual 100-110 highs in Austin and Houston, it is amazing. I try to alternate between who I sit with every morning for breakfast, but the food is usually similar. Several varieties of bread, cheese and salami, tea, porridge, etc. I am not a huge fan of porridge, but today I added some jelly to it and it tasted better. I have been told in advance that I will be offered a lot of tea by the communities and host families, so I am preparing myself for that. I found that by adding sugar and raspberry/strawberry jam I like the taste a lot more. I’ve been told it is somewhat of a Russian tradition to do so.
Every morning during orientation we have a medical or policy session of some kind. They’re fairly interactive, usually talking about identity, security and safety, medical illnesses, and involving sketches, drawings, etc. Everyone in advance knew we would have one about diarrhea, titled “Acute Diarrhea” on our schedules, which I know we all anticipated and entered the Peace Corps knowing it would happen. I myself am dreading the experience. Other trainees, I’ve spoken to have voiced fears of food poisoning and diarrhea due to changes in diet. The Kyrgyz diet is mostly bread and meat. Our PCMO (PC Medical Officer) said on the first day that they would strive to make our “diarrhea experience more pleasant”.
Twice a day there are also coffee breaks. I am not a coffee drinker, but there is always a plethora of different pastries, fruits, and snacks. It is also my favorite time to talk to a lot of the staff, many of whom have extremely interesting backgrounds. Some are native Kyrgyz people, others are American staff members. Most have been with the PC for a long time, some longer than I’ve been born! Conceptualizing such a long service and seeing so many people come through Kyrgyzstan and adjust to the culture is interesting. Our country director has been at the post for only about a year or so (American staff are only allowed 5 years of work I think), while the local staff much longer. I’ve had the pleasure to hear all their stories, and I’m constantly interested in their journeys, their lives, and stories. Nurlan mentioned loving Dune, and our country director is a former Foreign Service Officer (FSO) who lived around Haiti, Afghanistan, and Montenegro, amongst others. The two Rakhats have been delightful in teaching our groups.
Lunch is always pleasant. Usually, there is soup, which is what I wake up each morning salivating for. More bread, more tea, more water, and sometimes rice or more meat, or mashed potatoes. Fruit is common during the summer, and I don’t look forward to the winter season when fruit is scarce.
The afternoon is more policy, more talking about medical stuff. Common sense stuff, some things are more complex. We break up into groups for language classes. Everything is super close together, and our rooms are right across from the conference room where we are having sessions. Between breaks, there are medical interviews, vaccinations, photos being taken, everything, and anything. I inch closer and there is a small part of me that likes being in this strange limbo where we’re just sort of existing in Kyrgyzstan.
Throughout the week, we’ve walked around the village. There is a river about ten minutes up the road, and we’ve all been going in large groups. The walk to see the sunset around 8:30ish PM is always a major highlight. The sun sets behind the gorgeous mountains, and in empty fields of grass, flowers, with the faint noises of cars and wandering animals, and the even louder sound of the breeze makes the atmosphere entirely serene and pleasant.
Dinner is always a fun affair, with more bread, more tea, a lentil soup, and a large entree, usually potatoes, a salad of sorts, meat with vegetables, and even sometimes a dessert. After dinner, for the first few nights, we had several game activities with some of our LCFs (Language and Culture Facilitators) which include Kyrgyz games and also practicing the language. One game used rocks that reminded me of jacks. Another was like telephone, meant to stress to us the importance of overcoming and handling miscommunication in a foreign environment. After the activities and games, lots of us walk by the river and the village or return and start a fire by the firepit. A few days in, some even took to using one of the trainee’s frisbee to play. They involved even a few of the local children, some of which I’ve been seeing pass through the guest house on their little bikes.
On Thursday evening, while walking around the village, several of us stopped by the local school to say hi to the local children. Children are easy to practice speaking with; they often just laugh at you and respond. Kyrgyz has informal and formal usage, so I made a bad habit of referring to them formally. We ran into three groups of kids walking around. As the sun set over the area, the children ran into fields of grass, some of them towards the mountains, others retreating to their homes, one with a dog. Here in Kyrgyzstan, most dogs are feral, so we are not allowed to touch most of them. It makes me profoundly sad as a proud dog lover.
As we wrap up orientation, it is one of those parts of the Peace Corps that I never thought I would get to experience. Walking out of my room every day to the gorgeous views of the mountain right outside, standing over the balcony with other trainees watching the sun slink behind in purple and orange colors, and watching the flames build in the pit as I’m surrounded by people I’ve just gotten to know is such a rich experience. But I’m also exiting a holding pattern, PC eases us into such an experience, but I won’t deny there are difficulties.
An Instagram post circulated amongst our cohort from a Kyrgyz news outlet, with many likes and many mixed comments about our arrival. It was easy to grow disconcerted to hear about what some people think about us, about America, about what we’re doing. It is easy to suspect, as the comments do, that we are spies, we are spreading American political agendas (brainwashing kids and the like), and any other suspicion about what we’re doing. Yet, Peace Corps has been here in Kyrgyzstan for almost thirty years, and I am excited every day to meet new people and see the Kyrgyz Republic for all it is.
The first few weeks of the Peace Corps are the most volatile, stuff changing constantly, and shifting environments. It was natural to voice anxieties, hell I had so many. Worries about the awkward first conversation with a host family, flipping through my notebook for the key phrases I had written down hastily. But I think I’ve learned to embrace the awkwardness, the miscommunications, the fear I have. I worry about getting depression, I worry about idle time, I worry about being in a room and not understanding most of the conversation, I worry about random health scares I have no control over, I worry about looking stupid, I worry about my perception and what my host family will think of me, I worry about what other trainees think of me, I worry about being finicky with food and accidentally offending a host parent or community member. It’s so normal to be afraid, especially when so much is changing. And yet, every day is always 24 hours, every day is a new chance to meet someone new and learn something new. My head spins constantly, and it will probably keep spinning until I leave Bishkek for the final time.
​
​​À Bientôt,
​Grace