‘Cause That’s My Fun Day! Written May 25, 2008

In general I live the oba-riffic life 5 and sometimes 6 days a week. The oba life is village, and should be spoken when that same mixture of pride, resignation, and toughness with which one says, “I live in the ghetto, the projects, or northern New Jersey. The oba life without running water and other amenities. It is shockingly familiar with livestock. (A baby cow appeared in my compound and the stork did not deliver it, I assure you.) The oba is Turkmen in language and mentality, and to keep sane, sometime I have to leave.

Thankfully, there is Friday club. It was dubbed Freedom Friday by another volunteer, but that sounds a like a Homeland Security program, so Friday Club we remain. It is between 4 and 6 volunteers that go to Mary City on Friday to do all those things that can’t be done in the oba—internet, post office, bank, and lunch. It is rejuvenating to speak in English, to wear western style clothes, and to talk to people who grew up with the same cultural cues and tendencies. It all goes beyond the language. Even if my Turkmen were flawless, I would still need to interact sometimes with people who understand the sarcasm, the difference between American Apparel and American Eagle, and the sad decline of SNL since the 1990s. I am so lucky to have them!

All Fridays are memorable, but last week was particularly so. In addition to the general Friday brilliance, I saw TOURISTS! They flooded the internet café, typical Germans with their knee socks and sandles, fanny packs, and ruddy cheeks. In the midst off the germans were 2 brits and a Dutchman. There were 30 something of them all together and they were driving 17 campers from Venice to China and back. Boggles the mind, right? We were dazed and giddy with this onslaught of English and foreigness that was Peace Corps. It was also nice to feel like we were slowly getting it. We suggested restaurants to eat at, gave general taxi prices, and costs for things at the bazaars. We spoke about our experiences in the villages and generally had a good time. They unfortunately did not treat us to a fantastic meal, but they were great fun nonetheless. At the end I passed on a copy of Three Cups of Tea*, wished them the best and then had a beer.

*This will probably get its own blog in a little bit. Everyone under the sun thinks I need to read it. I have 3 copies. At this rate it will beat out the Ruhnama as the most common book in Turkmenistan.