My Early Homecoming

Hello All,
I'm back! I'm writing this email from my home in NJ. After about 31 hours of travel in 2 taxis, a bus, 4 planes, and my parent's car, I arrived at good ol' 30 Fredonia Rd. around 11pm on June 1 and promptly feel asleep. After sending this email, I plan to eat a bagel, drink some orange juice, and unpack. Most things beyond that immediate future are a blur and I've decided to put off thinking about them until tomorrow.

That being said, I can tell you that I'll be "re-upping" with the PC in Moldova (a small country sandwiched between Romania and Ukraine) in mid-September. They speak Romanian and a little bit of Russian there, so I'll be able to continue improving my "Rusky." The political landscape is vastly different from Uzbekistan, with a more Western-leaning president and a government that enjoys a good relationship with PC and the US Embassy. The physical landscape is different too - rolling hills filled with vineyards instead of dessert filled with sand.

I'm looking forward to the opportunity to see another country. Plus, this time I know how to pack and I'll be the cool PCV who's done it all before. I can make up all kinds of stories about what I saw and did in Uzbekistan and no one can ever prove me wrong!

Other plans include visiting friends, finding some kind of gainful employment for the summer, perhaps subletting an apartment somewhere, taking in a Red Sox game or two, and finding a Russian and guitar teacher (not necessarily the same person).

Other members of my UZ-18 class went immediately to a new PC country (Mongolia, Moldova, Romania, Azerbaijan, El Salvador), or are waiting like me for a few months in the States for their programs to start (in South Africa, Moldova, Surinam, Ukraine), or they're finished with PC, or they're waiting to see what other options PC can come up with. All of these transfer options were developed very quickly over Memorial Day Weekend, when everyone in the PCHQ in DC was on vacation. Though none of us were happy to leave a place in which we had begun to build our lives, I think everyone is excited about new opportunities - and now we know people all over the world and can go visit on the cheap...

[Oh yeah, my big plan to surprise my parents failed completely because my brother let the cat out of the bag. He was visiting my folks in NJ and checking his email there and yelled out to my parents, "Hey, I've got an email from Brad." So they came over and started reading it together - and to be fair, I only wrote "DON'T TELL MY PARENTS" at the end of my letter.]

That's all for now. If you'd like to read what I had started to write for my next update - prior to learning that I would be leaving Uzbekistan - see below. Some of the things are just reminders or notes to myself to mention certain things.

So here I am, pretty much settled in. I don't really get ripped off in the bazaar anymore, have made some local friends, and know where most things are on account of a map I made (because there are no city maps available for purchase in this country) by spending a day just trying out all the different marshutkas (minivan buses). I did wind up switching host families to a Russian speaking one and I'm certain that was a good move for my language skills, though perhaps not the best choice for my culinary palette. Most meals here consist of cabbage and potato soup or plov (rice, carrots, oil, and a little bit of meat). I've started to supplement my diet with eggs, cheese, bananas, sausage, and other assorted goodies from the bazaar. Ironically, my first bout of diarrhea since arriving in Uzbekistan came before I switched families. Maybe there's something to this bland food after all...

Some of you may have heard about the violence that took place in Andijon, one of Uzbekistan's 12 regions (a region is similar to a state in the US). For now, over email, suffice to say all PCVs are and always were safe. You back in the States probably have a better idea of what happened than I do because many of the news services were cut in Uzbekistan. I live on the other side of the country from Andijon, and life here was completely normal. Peace Corps was on top of the situation, sending us up-to-date information by phone and email, and should the situation have escalated, would have taken appropriate actions to secure all PCVs' safety.

Funny story of the month:
I, like all PCVs, have a bank account into which PC deposits our monthly living allowance. And from time to time PCVs must go to the bank to get said allowance to do said living. And therein lies the problem. The bank (and there really is only one bank in this country) doesn't like to give out money. I have both an ATM card and a bank book. Knowing full well that oftentimes the ATM machine doesn't work or is simply out of cash, I thought I'd be bold and attempt to use it anyway. [Point of interest: everyone's card - and I mean everyone's card in the whole country - has the password "1." Though you can change your password - and I have so you can forget about stealing my $100 life savings - few people actually do. So, for the most part, if you steal someone's card you'll have no problem accessing their account.] So I try the machine and it says my card is not acceptable. Turns out the bank is in the process of changing from one kind of card to another kind of card. I have the newer card and the program for this card will not be installed on the ATM machine for 3-4 months. So I go to get money the old fashion way: from a real person... or really I should say from a whole team of people. First I go into one room where I get a document like an IOU from the bank for the amount of money I wish to withdraw. Then that document needs to be signed by a higher up person. I happen to get the VP of the bank to sign mine, but he wants to chat first and practice his English that he learned during a trip to NYC. We have some tea and I tell him about Boston and he tells me about living in Brooklyn and so it goes for about half an hour until I decide I've schmoozed enough and say I really have to be going so could he please sign my IOU so I can get my money? So then he signs it and I go to a 3rd room where the cashiers work. About three dozen people are waiting for their money but because I'm American I'm ushered straight to the front of the line where I knock on a little wooden door in the wall. The door opens and I hand the man my signed IOU, he closes the door, and 2 minutes later hands me 25,000 sym ($25). I'm told future transactions will be faster and hour-long runaround only took so long because it was the first time. We'll see. For now, I'm inclined to take out as much money as possible each time to lower the frequency of bank trips.

Went to a Cinqo de Mayo party with 30 PCVs - had my only case of diarrhea in Uzbekistan the whole time I was at the party

Was supposed to teach music for 2 weeks at a summer camp
finishing organization assessment - what is says. Really interesting community advocacy work going on - first of its kind - people here are waiting for the government to fix everything, but the government isn't going to - those days of the USSR are gone, so it's difficult to get the people to realize they must speak up for themselves - It seems that previous campaigns have been more about trying to berate or force government officials to do what the people want, rather than give them hero opportunities to make them look and feel good - which is ultimately a better way to get things done because it provides for a better future working relationship.

Here I Am!

Hello All,
I've finally arrived at my official site in Urgench! Today marks my one-week anniversary - and after waiting at my host family's and then in a Tashkent hotel for a couple of weeks for a new visa, I'm very happy to be where I'm supposed to be. I live in a huge 2-story house with my new host family - Mom & Dad (Dilberjon & Kodomboy), 2 brothers (Otabek and Muzaffar), 2 sisters (Sanober and Niloofar), a sister-in-law (Shohista), and her and Otabek's 2-year old son (Mohammed), who I could watch laugh all day long. [Mohammed and particularly his father, Otabek, have frighteningly similar mannerisms to my own brother David and his 3-year old son Gabriel.] My folks are in their 50s and siblings are between 19 and 27, so it's a pretty adult crowd. My new room is very large - about 20 x 30 feet (5 x 7 meters), albeit empty with only a desk, small dresser/cabinet, and bed. But, I do have a ceiling fan, which is more than I ever expected to have. I think I'll try to get some plants and a lamp at the bazaar this weekend.

My host family is strictly Muslim and Uzbek, compared to my previous Russian and loosely Muslim family. Sadly, this means I will not continue to improve my Russian via my host family, but it will certainly help me pick up some Uzbek and experience a new part of the Uzbek culture - and I'm definitely going to have to learn some Uzbek because this part of the country is way more Uzbek than Russian. The women of this household tend to keep to themselves, as is part of the culture, and I've yet to have a conversation with my new sisters. They never make eye contact with me and leave the room as soon as I enter. Perhaps that will change after I'm here a little longer and become less of a guest and more of a member of the family. Muzaffar speaks English fairly well and is anxious to practice with me, so I speak with him from time to time, loan him some of my books, and showed him how to use the Internet yesterday. It's nice to have a translator around, though I'll have to be careful I don't abandon my own studies and fall back on his English skills. My host family is fairly well-off - Kodomboy is a surgeon and Otabek an economist (who always asks me how much things cost in America - a question I try to avoid answering), Dilberjon is a history teacher and Moozafir is an economics student and Niloofar a med student. Despite their relative wealth, the water in this region is turned off everyday and only comes on full blast (i.e. moderate trickle) at night. I've started to stockpile drinking water that I distill in my room - God knows I've got the space - for if and when the water goes out for longer. Save for the fact that they don't speak Russian, I'm quite content in my new digs. I have started to investigate new Russian speaking families - a rarity in this part of the country - and may move within the next week or two, but it's hard to give up good people and a ceiling fan. After my first three months, I can and probably will move into my own apartment.

The pace of life is thus far pleasantly (and only rarely frustratingly) slow. If I'm able to accomplish a little thing each day I feel productive. For example, my first day I organized my room. The day after that I opened a bank account. My third day was quite impressive - I walked 45 minutes from my house to the office, found a "gym" for $3 per month, and finally registered at the Ovir (see below for more on the Ovir). My fourth day I had a long discussion in Russian in a cafe with a 19-year old sound technician comparing the poor of India and America and discussing the health benefits of cherry compote for one's brain. Plans for next week include hiring a Russian tutor and making pizza for my host family. In America, if I did all of these things in one day I'd still feel like a couch potato, but over here I'm a superstar.

My new job has yet to begin in earnest. For now, it's more important that I get settled in Urgench, improve my language skills, befriend my co-workers, and learn the intricacies of the office. Peace Corps advises we take at least 3-6 months do these things before attempting to suggest a change. I think that makes sense - it would be difficult for anyone to accept the suggestions of someone they barely knew, particularly when that someone can't speak the language and doesn't even know what to suggest. There are 3 people in my office who speak English fairly well, so I don't think communication will be too difficult, but like my host-brother, I have to press them to use Russian because they all want to improve their English - or they speak Uzbek. [I keep trying to put myself in their shoes. If I were back in the States and a "PCV" from China arrived in my office and I really wanted to learn Chinese because I thought it would help me get ahead in my career and create a better life for me and my family, I would probably act the same way.] Overall, I feel extremely lucky to be in my office - everyone here is intelligent, friendly, and honest. Next week I'm going to begin doing some interviews and completing an organizational assessment to figure out how I can best help this NGO.

And now for some non-chronological but interesting things...
1. Yes, the swearing-in ceremony was just as memorable as I hoped it would be. Our training director, who has now returned to his home in the Dominican Republic, gave an excellent speech; all manner of friends and family were on hand; and perhaps best of all was the tiny (real) Italian restaurant I and a few other Volunteers found that night. We all splurged and each spent $10-15 (about a tenth of our month's stipend) on a feast - I had a real steak and spinach ravioli! I also learned the new term, "food porn," which is something PCVs are wont to partake in when they fantasize about all the tasty treats back in the States. Bagels... OJ... ahhhhhhhhhh...
2. One thing I'm really looking forward to: My NGO, in an effort to diversify its sources of revenue, bought 2 traditional Uzbek houses (large huts) in the desert and plans to offer overnight camel trips to tourists. They're just getting started on this, but I definitely want to help, if for no other reason to get a camel ride and sleep in the desert. Sadly, the desert here is more scrub and caked earth than beautiful "Laurence of Arabia" type sand dunes, but hey, it's still the desert. Hopefully this camel trip will work out better than my last one in Egypt - ask my family if you don't know the story...
3. Muzaffar, my host brother, entered my room late one night and asked me how much money I needed. Surprised, I answered, "I don't need any money." He said, but you told me at lunch "Give me some credit."
4. While waiting for my visa, I spent a lot of time with other volunteers. One day we made burritos from scratch - and I mean from scratch. We soaked beans for 7 hours and then boiled them for 3 more until they were soft; made our own tortillas from flour, salt, and water; and whipped up a mean salsa from fresh veges from the bazaar. I made the same thing for my first host family the last night I was there and they really liked it. The whole cooking process was fun but I have a new appreciation for canned beans and ready-made tortillas - so easy!
5. The Ovir is kind of like the head of the local police. When you move anywhere in Uzbekistan, you must register with the Ovir in your regional capital - tell them where you live, work, etc. I had to submit letters from PC, my host family, and my work, plus two passport photos and then fill out another form from the Ovir office. So I went three times over three days to try to get their stamp in my passport and each time they told me to come back the following day - I think this was because if after three days you have not registered, you may be charged $50 to do so. The final straw came when I was told to come back at 3pm on Friday, only to find the necessary official and most of the office was at a soccer game. A SOCCER GAME?!? So we waited and waited some more, and eventually they came back around 7pm and after about an hour of schmoozing and 45 minutes of paperwork they gave us the damn stamp. This makes for a good incentive not to move... ever.

Thanks for letters and emails - they always make me smile and I have a special PC folder just for them.

The Curveball

Hello Once Again!
Well, in 2 days I will have finished training and be an official, honest-to-God Peace Corps Volunteer. Amid much fanfare, pomp, and circumstance the UZ-18 group of 63 people will be sworn in on April 5th at a ceremony in Tashkent. The Ambassador will speak, two members of my class will deliver speeches in Uzbek and Russian, and I and another will sing and play the guitar. Peace Corps is providing a couple buses for our host families so they can attend as well. We'll also meet our new site counterparts, who had flown, train-ed, or bus-ed it to Tashkent. All in all, it looks to be a good couple of days.

I had planned to wait until after the ceremony and send out an email from my new site in Urgench, on the other side of this California-sized nation, with news about my new city, host family, work, and friends. However, I'm typing away here in Chirchik, still at the home of my original host family. The reason is that the Uzbek government has been slow to grant us - and all foreigners - proper visas. As of writing this, mine and most of the other Uz-18ers expire on April 19. Peace Corps and the US Embassy are doing their best to resolve the issue ASAP, and they think we'll be granted 13-month visas within two weeks. But, until such time as this issue is straightened out, we'll all be staying in or around Chirchik. I'll busy myself with more Russian classes, maybe try a beginner Uzbek lesson or two, and come up with other ways to occupy myself - basketball, hiking, exploring this region, etc.

So, if you've already sent something to my new address (below), no worries - they'll hold it until I get there. But until I get my visa and move to Urgench, please continue to use the first address of the Peace Corps Office in Tashkent.

PS - Some (wonderful) people have asked what makes a good care package in Uzbekistan. Well, no sense in only sharing with a few of you, so here's a list of some of the "greatest hits" with Uzbek PCVs: DVDs, Clif bars, photographs of you, newspapers, DVD or VHS recordings of good Red Sox games, letters (of course), real beef jerky, and anything else you so desire.

It's All About the Hat

About a month ago, for the equivalent of $11 I purchased a very warm "shopka," the traditional Russian hat that you see in all the movies. Mine is black and made of muskrat. I have to admit I was rather pleased to discover my hat was made of muskrat because a few hours after I purchased it I asked my host father what kind of fur I was sporting on my noggin, to which he replied "big Mighty Mouse." Looking up the Russian word in a dictionary from the 1960s confirmed it was actually "rat." But, a better dictionary and my own desire to believe that I'm not showcasing a rat on my head leads me to conclude that my hat is, in fact, muskrat.

I've been told that I now look Russian, particularly in my black coat with gray gloves, black pants, black socks and shoes, gray scarf, and a black sweater underneath. [No one can actually see the sweater, but it's good just to know it's there.] Anything that is not black, gray, brown, or at least so dirty that the original color has become black, gray, or brown tend to stand out, so needless to say my Rainbow Bright toboggan and matching mittens have yet to see the light of day. I do feel like I fit in more, now. When I wear my hat kids don't stare and scream, "Gut mooring" no matter the time of day. The other day a guard in the metro mistook me for one of his friends and several fellow trainees have been shocked to find me standing next to them - one brushed my hand aside as I tapped her on the arm in the bazaar because she thought I was some machismo Russian trying to hit on her, or at least that's the reason she told me...

My days during training are pretty full - up at 6:30 or 7, start language or NGO class at 8:30, finish at 5, eat dinner at 6ish, then study for a couple of hours. In my remaining hour or two before I go to bed I either play the guitar, write, read, take a bucket/bowl shower if there's hot water, or try to exercise with an odd combination of a loaded backpack, the Rocky soundtrack, and furniture gymnastics - it's quite a sight to behold. During the week, I only see the 3 other students of my language class and the 12 other NGO trainees. Only on Fridays do all 60 or so of us get together for a medical or security training, followed by a rousing (or pathetic) round robin basketball tournament. Weekends usually start out free, but get filled quickly with birthday parties, exploratory trips to nearby villages or Tashkent city, etc. For example...

I've been on several trips since I last wrote. There was a day trip to Chimangan, a "ski resort" in the mountains that is a unique combination of wealthy Euro-trash in bright pink snow suits and dirt poor Uzbeks selling fresh honey or pumpkin seeds along the side of the road. I took a 12-hour overnight train for a weekend tour of the ancient Silk Road city of Buchara. And today, I just returned from a 4-day trip to Nukus, the western-most major city, about 3-4 hours taxi ride south of the shrinking Aral Sea. I stayed with an excellent PCV, Graham, who is half-way through his service. We roamed the bazaars, hosted a dinner party for other local PCVs, went to a museum of banned Soviet art (see the Nov. 19, 2001 Newsweek for an article all about it), and took a 2-hour trip south to Urgench and Khiva.

Which brings me to my BIG NEWS! In early April I'll be moving to Urgench to work with an NGO called the International Scientific Society (or Al Khorezmy-Vambery). While in Urgench, I surprised my NGO with a quick visit - we don't really meet our NGOs until April - and I'm pleased to say it's a big, clean office with 7 friendly staff, two of whom speak English. Al Khorzmy is part of IREX's (the International Research & Exchange Board) Civil Society Support Initiative. What that jargon means is that IREX, a very big world-wide donor who gets a lot of money from USAID, funds these centers in the major cities of Uzbekistan for other NGOs to use as a cross between a Kinko's, internet cafe, library, and legal and programmatic consulting firm. The centers usually have the latest on what grants are available and offer trainings to and consultations to other NGOs on everything related to improving the abilities of NGOs, and thus society. [Just in case there's any confusion about what I'm doing - and forgive me if I mentioned this before - but only in America do we call NGOs "non-profits." So basically, I'm working for a non-profit over here.] I'm very excited to get there and start my work and I think this assignment should be a good way to meet the whole NGO community and find interesting secondary projects.

The weather here is much warmer now than when I first arrived. My long johns, coat, sleeping bag, (and sadly the authentic shopka) are packed away. I usually strip down to a t-shirt during the day when the temperature is around 70. I think I may melt during the approaching summer.
Hope you're all well and I'll try to send out the next update once I meet and am settled with my new as-yet-to-be-met host family out west.
ps - I now have very slow dial-up Internet at my house, so email is a little easier - but please, no attached files larger than 2-300KB or it will take forever to access them. Because of the slow speed, I can only attach dumbed-down versions of some shots I took on my most recent trip - one of a very bad pontoon bridge over the Amu Daria River and the other a typical bazaar scene, this one from Nukus. I should have decent access to the Internet once I get to Urgench, but "should" is definitely the operative word.

Update Dva (that's "2" in Russian)

Uzbek is out and Russian is in. After 3 days of Uzbek I, along with about 16 of the 65 other volunteers, was switched to study Russian because of the kind of work I'll be doing and the area of the country I'll be placed. [Of course, they have yet to tell any of us the kind of work we'll be doing or the area of the country that we'll be in, but it seems at least some of the higher ups have a general idea about it.] Russian is completely different and seems a bit more difficult than Uzbek, but I'm happy to be learning a language that should prove more useful at the end of my service. After my training ends in April, I can receive an additional stipend from Peace Corps if I want to hire a local language tutor, so perhaps I can learn two languages or really perfect my Rusky.

My living situation has changed, too. All the trainees moved out of "Hotel Sanitory" (a song I wrote and performed to Hotel California with altered lyrics) and in with host families. I'm staying in the house of Anvar and Maryam, a couple in their 60s who live in the city of Chirchik. They've both been very welcoming and try to help me with my Russian. Near as I can tell, the language barrier still being quite high, Anvar works in some kind of factory and is a small time farmer with 35 chickens in a coup in the back and small fruit trees on a terraced hill behind the coup. The house is small, clean, and fairly warm - as is my room in it. His cousin lives next door, his sister-in-law who always comes over lives about 5 minutes away, and his daughter and her two kids live in an apartment about a 10 minute walk from here. There is plenty of good food in the breakfasts and dinners we share - lots of potatoes, tea, bread, and veges - and this morning I had 2 fresh eggs from the chickens out back. Peace Corps issued us a portable, albeit clunky, distiller which provides about a gallon of purified water in 4 hours. Though I thought I might eventually want to live alone, it's hard to imagine giving up someone else's (good) cooking and laundry service (men usually don't do their own, and I'm in no rush to buck tradition). I may still opt for my own place, but for now I'm quite comfy. We'll see how things go with my next host family when I move to my worksite at the end of training in April. And to answer everyone's burning question, my bathroom actually comes in 3 parts: one indoor room with a toilet for #1 and a tub for washing your face, brushing your teeth, and laundry; a squat toilet outside for #2; and a GREAT homemade sauna and a bucket of hot water in a separate building adjoining the chicken coup out back for cleaning your whole body and relaxing.

The prices here are pretty good. Laundry is not included in the home-stay "contract," so it's suggested we give whichever woman does it about 2000 soms (2 dollars) per month. Yes, that's per month. Today I bought a loaf of bread for 15 cents. I take "marchutkas," minivan taxis that follow certain routes like buses, to and from classes - about a 25 minute drive each way - for 20 cents. And though I haven't had much time to do so during training, the Internet cafes run about $1 per hour. I got a haircut for 70 cents and a jar of honey for 60 cents and probably overpaid for both. All that being said, Peace Corps doesn't want you to live above the means of the average Uzbek, so our living stipend is in line with the reduced prices.

Classes are going well and I continue to be impressed with the level of organization and quality of training I'm receiving in the language, culture, and technical knowledge about the government, socio-economic status of the people, and local NGO community. Though none of the Uzbek or Russian teachers would be considered native English speakers, I can't help but wonder when they use words like "pessimistic" or phrases like "top secret," how did they ever learn those so well as to use them conversationally? I'm looking forward to getting to that point - or at least being able to get by without pantomime.

Alright, there's a host of other Peace Corps volunteers waiting to send out their respective updates. Hope all is well with everyone. Will write again when there's more to tell and time to spare. I've attached a couple of pictures - one of the street in front of my house and the other of my host mother and father in our kitchen.

ps - Maryam told me I could give out their phone number, which I think is below. Not really sure about the numbers, or what the country code is, and I'm fairly certain it's really expensive to call from the US. So, I don't really recommend calling. I won't be calling anyone or returning any phone calls from their house. But, if you do decide to call, please do so no earlier than 8:30am and no later than 9:30pm, and note I'm 10 hours ahead of EST.

pps - I saw the Superbowl (live) at 4am on Monday, Feb 7th at the US Ambassador's house. Go Pats!

Trust in Allah...

...but tie your camel.

That's how my Peace Corps service began - with an proverb ice-breaker game where two people with halves of proverbs had to find each other among the crowd of 65 Peace Corps Trainees in Philadelphia bound for Uzbekistan. I thought it a fitting start to my journey.

Since arriving, we've been staying at a hotel / fertility clinic / homeless shelter (don't ask, because I really don't know exactly what it is) while we receive briefings on medical services, Peace Corps policies, and take language and cultural classes. I must say I've been really impressed by the quality of medical care available to me and the ability of the language and cultural training staff. They really know their stuff. The rooms are actually pretty nice and we get three huge meals a day in the cafeteria - almost every dish involves meat, potatoes, and tea - plus two coffee/tea breaks with snacks. I've met some amazing people from all walks of life - ages 70 to 22, married and single, those who have traveled all over the world and those who have never been out of their home state, but all of them with a good head on their shoulders and hearts in the right place. On Friday, Jan 28, we all move out of this place and in with our as-yet-to-be-named host families for the rest of training. I think that's when the true Peace Corps experience begins. Right now it feels a little like a summer camp - I spend most of my time with Americans speaking English, which is fun but not ultimately what I came here to do.

Still no word yet on what I'll be doing or where I'll be going at training's completion in April.

Will write more when I get the chance and have some tales to tell about Uzbek culture

The Final Update

[I've decided to retroactively add my "pre-blog" email updates sent from Uzbekistan to this blog. I think this should allow folks (just like you, or perhaps completely different from you - but folks nonetheless) to get a little background on my experience. Others will follow in similarly titled posts, but here's the first one:]


Hey All,
So here's the final email before the big move. I leave Jan 16 for my staging area in Philadelphia. On Jan 18, I'll board a plane at JFK bound for Istanbul, Turkey and ultimately Tashkent, Uzbekistan. This last week in New Jersey promises to be full of attempts to pack as much stuff as possible into two bags and as much food as possible into one stomach.

During my initial 11 weeks in country, the other new volunteers and I will live with host families while we learn about the local culture and how to speak Uzbek and (hopefully) a little Russian. After that, we'll split up to go to our various as-yet-to-be-named locations and officially begin our 2-year assignment. I'll move in with a new host family in a new city/village, at least for the first 3 months. After that, if there are places available for rent, I may move out on my own or stay on with my host family for the remainder of my assignment.

My mailing address during the first 11 weeks will be:
UZBEKISTAN, 700015 Tashkent
4 Turkestanskaya Street
c/o "Halqaro Pochtamt"
Attn: "Bradley Dakake"

[If you're feeling particularly adventuresome, you can print out the attached Cyrillic version of the above address, tape it to your envelope instead of the English version, and then (in theory) your letter will reach me sooner - just make sure you write "UZBEKISTAN" in English somewhere on the envelope.]

I'll send out my post-training address once I get it. But in the meantime, think how by sending me a letter, you can impress your friends - not to mention your postal worker - when you receive letters back from Uzbekistan. Talk about incentive... I'll probably have intermittent access to phone and email, though there's no guarantee and I think they're relatively expensive - besides, letters are more fun and only take about 3 weeks each way. As mail can be held up by the occasional labor strike, lazy mail donkeys, or big events like the local postal worker's niece's birthday party, please date your letters (and I'll do the same).

During these past weeks and months, I've had the chance to see many of you to say "See you later," and I truly appreciate all the well-wishing I've received and I wish it right back atcha. See you in 2.5 years, though if anyone wants to visit you're most welcome (really). I hear Uzbekistan is lovely in the spring...

ps - Many of you have asked me where exactly Uzbekistan is, so there's a map of the region attached as well.