It's amazing I'm better at "snail mail" than this.

Oh goodness, what a life. Last semester ended uneventfully enough. After totally up my kids' grades, I learned my lesson to stop giving a darn about my kids' grades. And, once the cold kicked in, I learned to truly appreciate coal for keeping me alive; my school also proved to have some degree of heating- yahoo! Turns out Santa also visits Kyrgyzstan, under the alias “Father Frost,” only he comes on New Year's, which is how I think he manages to get all around the world. Also, no wife is mentioned, but he has a (grand?)daughter who helps him out. Next year, if plans allow, I hope to stay around my village for the New Year's celebration to see how locals throw down.

We devoted the last week of classes to holiday cheer. We sang carols (English and Kyrgyz) and made decorations and paper snowflakes. The kids sang “Merry Christmas” to me to the tune of “Happy Birthday,” then draped me with paper garland they made, a paper crown, and paper bracelets. My room at home is still filled with their holiday décor. One of my favorite seventh form students, Muslim, painted this picture for me:

***** (My internet isn't good enough to upload pictures right now, so maybe next upload!)

In a Christmas card my grandma Nan sent, she asks how my kids are in class – if they are involved or if they have that distasteful demeaner attributed to middle schoolers. My middle school students are my absolute favorite. Whether they know the material or not, they are actively involved in every lesson. This spring I have gone so far as to drop my tenth and eleventh form classes. Though some older students are interested, trying to engage those classes was a challenge I felt no pressure to accept.

So, back to this winter break story (I assure you, it's a doozy): I packed my bags for a two-week trip to the lake for some lesson plan exchanging and wholesome snowboarding over the holidays. On our way to the lake, we stopped by to visit my first host family. They got a new grandbaby for Christmas! My little sister looks exactly the same but a few inches taller. The visit was lovely, and they gave us a beet salad to ensure vegetable intake during the winter season.

Many other volunteers were in Karakol (a city by the lake) the same time we were, which was wonderful. On Christmas day, we hired two vans to take us from the city to the slopes. The drive was nice, icy, but not nearly as treacherous and the mountains to Talas. I imagine this comes as no surprise, but I did not pack my camera, so I have no pictures to share at this time. The slopes are Russian owned and operated – some volunteers joke that you get on the van in Kyrgyzstan and get off in Russia. This is to say that hardly anyone speaks Kyrgyz, and most visitors to the mountain are Russian. The equipment and lifts were so much nicer than I had imagined. Instead of a lift pass, you get an electronic card that you scan to be allowed through the gate to the lift. Also, unlike some slopes in country, they actually carry snowboards and boots. The day was starting out right.

Unfortunately, the conditions were rather icy, and I'm really not so great on a snowboard, so my first time down the mountain, I fell rather hard on my wrist and scraped my face up a little bit. Of course, this didn't stop me, and I spent the rest of the morning remembering how to go slowly. When we stopped for lunch, Preston noticed that my left wrist was pretty much useless. I could hold things, but not pull or push, and I couldn't rotate it more than twenty degrees or so. We went down the hill to the medical office where a dear old Russian man and I practiced non-verbal communication. A young woman helped to translate for a few minutes, and Preston knows some Russian, so it wasn't completely non-verbal. He pulled on it a while, rubbed some icy hot-like stuff on it, then wrapped it and started talking about payment. At which time, I remembered to call Peace Corps – better late than never, right?

The doctor on duty told me that my wrist may be broken and to get to the office as soon as I could the next day for x-rays. Preston and I packed up and went into Bishkek bright and early the next day. Dr Marat (our PC doctor) scheduled an x-ray for my wrist and, as soon as he saw the scrape on my face, scheduled a CT-scan for the next day. My wrist wasn't broken, only minor soft tissue damage, and they told me everything was fine in my brain, so PC hooked me up with a splint and sling and let us go back to the lake for New Year's.

We spent New Year's with some friends in Cholpon Ata. We bought millions of different little fireworks, and threw in together for a box of the giant fireworks. (This is my little sister playing with fireworks in my room):

****

The friend we stayed with lives a little ways from the city, so we made quite a ruckus to ring in the new year right. We spent the first day of 2012 just lying around her apartment, rehydrating, and playing Monopoly Deal. (I understand the appeal of making the game faster, but when the game moves so quickly it's harder to build the leverage to get good properties from the other players. Also, there is no banker, so it's actually impossible to steal from the bank...not that I do that in classic Monopoly...)

On the second, we headed back homeward. Preston and I stalled in Bishkek a while since I had an appointment with Dr Nazgul (the other PC doctor, who just recently left PC to pusue a career with USAID, and I already miss her terribly) regarding my headaches. A little bit of background for that: late fall, I started getting headaches most every day. Sometimes the headaches were not too bad and would go down considerably with some ibuprofin, sometimes they would be so bad that I could not work, stand, think. Just before they had gotten very bad, I was experiencing a lot of pain in my jaw. The dentist told me I have TMJ. He made a splint and a night guard for me. They said that if I wore them regularly, did not bite, eat chewy or hard things, or open my mouth more than an inch, maybe my headaches would chill out. By January, my jaw was feeling better, but I was still having headaches.

But this meeting was different than the other meetings we had before for this issue. Both Dr Nazgul and Dr Marat were in the room, along with my medical chart and scans. We hardly even talked about my headaches. They spoke some amongst themselves in Russian – first looking at my wrist x-ray, then pulling out the scan of my head which I had not yet seen. Dr Marat was pointing to one image in particular, then they told me – the scan of my brain had a dot. They told me it was a very small dot and looked like a circle instead of a blob, which led them to believe it was a cyst – not anything scarier – but they didn't know. (My brain is also very small in the scan, so I was trying to think about it lifesize and imagine this dot to be huge – estimations aren't my thing.) The CT-scan did not show my dot clearly enough, so I needed an MRI. No PC approved facility in Kyrgyzstan has an MRI machine. Dr Nazgul asked me when I could be ready to leave for Thailand. (Thailand is where 17 PC countries, including Kyrgyzstan, ship their damaged PCVs (Peace Corps Volunteers) when the host country can't quite fix us.) She told me that they did not think I should take the time to go home to Talas, they wanted to put me on a plane that week.

All things considered, I think I handled this news alright, but even typing it up just now, my heart skipped a beat or two, so adrenaline must have lended a helping hand. If you don't know what it is, how can you worry about it, right? Plus, I got to go to Thailand. Like daddy said, I just got a free ticket to another adventure. Of course, I was en route home from a snowboarding trip, so I didn't have the right clothes, or any US money to transfer – fortunately, I had brought my passport in case the mountain pass had been closed and we would've had to go through Kazakhstan. Also fortunately, many of my friends had just returned from a vacation in India. A volunteer about my size was kind enough to lend me a skirt, dress and a couple shirts. I had another skirt and was only expecting to be there two weeks tops, so this was plenty.

On January fifth, a PC employee drove me to the Bishkek airport and helped me figure out where to sit to wait for check-in. The first leg of the flight, to Almaty, Kazakhstan, took no time at all. Then I was able to sleep in that airport for a few hours before the next flight into Bangkok. A fellow volunteer who had recently been medevaced to Bangkok told me to take the train instead of taxi to the hotel from the airport and save some money, which was fantastic advice. The hotel was a little tricky to find, but with the help of locals and gesturing, I found it, grabbed some dinner at the hospitol, and passed out in the room that would be my home for a month.

I was to meet the PC Thailand doctor Cedric the next day. I assumed he meant at the PC office, so I got on the BTS Skytrain, rode it to Victory Monument, then walked a couple miles towards the river to find the office. Any anxiety I had regarding this trip, melted away during that walk. My skin could see the sun. I was warm. Everyone was smiling and helpful. At the office, I met a volunteer who gave me his computer login and his phone number in case if I needed anything. Then I met with Cedric (he meant for us to meet at the hotel, oops!), who is such a calm, and thorough doctor. We talked about absolutely everything that led up to me being there. We talked about the fall, the brain scan, the headaches, the jaw pain, that cyst on my ankle that just won't stay gone but is not at all related to why I was there. He said he'd meet me at the hotel the next morning to go with me to patient registration then to my first meeting with the neurologist.

The neurologist looked at the scan and declared the dot to be a cyst. He said if I wanted to come back in a year to have another scan to see if it was a fast-growing cyst, cool deal, but otherwise, it was just a cyst that we needn't worry about. Cedric told him, all the same, we want an MRI. So we scheduled one. Cedric also brought up my headaches, saying we think they're muscle tension headaches and maybe physical therapy (PT) would help. The neurologist said that could be true, ignored the PT idea, and started me on some pills to see if they helped. I was to meet with him the following week to discuss the MRI results and the headaches.

So I had a week with only the MRI, no other appointments. My vacation in Bangkok began. The first day was mostly practical. I bought way too expensive shoes that are practical because they made my feet happy, and I have put my miles in with those shoes. I found a grocery store! A real, live grocery store with shopping carts, bagels, PRODUCE! I bought enough for a few days' worth of meals. I walked around the hotel's district a good bit. Found a soccer field with a bench in the shade, a nice bazaar-like market, a huge park. After the first couple days, I met some other volunteers who were at the same hotel on medevac. At first, there were two from Mongolia, one from China and I. One from Mongolia, Glen, had injured his knee and only left the hotel at night to avoid making his whole leg sweat; also, the Mongolian volunteers were in their second winter and much more comfortable in the cold than in Thai heat. We would go out for dinner and beer – they had travel books and found recommended places for us to get both. Having friends to chat and explore with was nice.

Then Warren, also from China, arrived. He studied a semester in Bangkok, so he came with his own set of recommendations. At the end of my first week, Glen got medically separated to return to the States for a couple weeks of physical therapy. (If you are on medevac for more than 45 days, you get separated from the PC. Glen worked it out with PC Mongolia to get reinstated after his PT, so he should be back in country now, finishing his service.) Then Susan from Armenia arrived. Aaron from Cambodia arrived. Sarah, Warren's sitemate, from China arrived. Mandy from Mongolia returned to site. Cory from Georgia arrived. Aaron returned to site. Susan returned to site. Warren went on vacation. Sarah from Kyrgyzstan arrived. Cory returned to site. It was a whirlwind of friends over the weeks. I hope I haven't forgotten anyone. Most volunteers had one, known thing to tackle during medevac, and most everyone was successful. My friend from China, Kristin, who arrived the same day as me, was not so lucky. She only knew the symptoms and was in Thailand for someone to figure out the cause. She saw so many doctors, did so many tests and so much blood work, and towards the end of our third week, got an answer. I'm not sure the exact diagnosis, nor would it be my place to share that information, but PC China could not provide the regular monitoring of whatever she has. Kristin was medically separated, not to be reinstated. After that news, I felt ready to kiss the vacation goodbye and get back to my country.

So, back to me. The MRI was awful. I was having a headache when it started, so having my head clamped still and a Man in the Iron Mask mask covering my face was no fun. Also, I wasn't hydrated enough, so they pulled me out to shoot me with more fluids. At my next appointment with the neurologist, he cheefully shook my hand several times, congratulating me on my “prominent blood vessel.” It's harmless! Absolutely nothing to worry about, monitor, or treat. My brain is a-ok.

Unfortunately, the pills hadn't helped my headaches at all. So week 2, we doubled the dose and planned to meet again in a week. The next week we switched medications. Before we met on the third week, I talked with Cedric about the PT idea again to loosen my muscles, hopefully cutting down on headaches if they were, in fact, of the muscle tension variety; so I brought it up with my doctor. He approved the idea, and I started going every other day. The first couple appointments were comprised of some massage, five minutes with an ultrasound machine, then fifteen minutes of hot compresses. As lovely as these sessions were, I wasn't learning how to treat myself at home, so the next time I asked for tips. My last few appointments were stretches, massage, five minutes with the ultrasound, and fifteen minutes of hot compresses. I felt incredible. And the stretches are still helping me out – now I rarely have headaches, none have been bad enough to make me stop what I'm doing.

Also, my main physical therapist took a liking to me, and invited me to go to a vintage night market with her and her boyfriend. This was near the end of my trip, when most of the other volunteers had returned to site, and it was nice to make another friend so easily. We took the train to the pier, rode a boat up to a night market near the Grand Palace, and took a bus home. I was glad to get another evening boat ride into the trip.

Flying home was much less enjoyable. I left at a reasonable hour but had to fly all the way to Moscow – this means I flew over Kyrgyzstan halfway through that flight – to spend a two hour layover in my new least favorite airport. The thing that struck me was the smell of death. From fresh air to airplane air to everyone smoking cheap cigarettes in a confined space; but it didn't even smell like smoke, just straight death. Another downer, I had forgotten to exchange my Thai money in Thailand, and at this airport I could only exchange USD, Rupies, or Eeuros. So I couldn't even drown my self-pity in food and drink. But the layover was brief, then I flew the few hours home to be picked up by a PC driver, a cheerful guy, who took me to the hotel PC uses for medical. We got to the hotel around six in the morning.

As always, my room was on the fifth floor, so I slumped up the stairs with all my bags that had gotten anti-miraculously heavier in Thailand, only to find my room latched shut from the inside. I looked from the number on my key to the number on the door a million times before trying the key again, which is when a woman inside started screaming something to the man, also inside, grumbling. So I trudge back downstairs, wake up the receptionist again, try to explain the situation in the little Kyrgyz that was still in my head after six weeks of English. We [insert another synonym for “slump”]ed back upstairs. She and the couple exchanged some words, none of which I understood. They left the room, she pulled off their sheet and put on another from the wardrobe, and I passed out. Welcome home.

The next day was Sunday, so staff wasn't working, meaning I wasn't able to get cleared to go home. I spent the whole day in the office, trying to waste time on the internet (which has gotten considerably more difficult). After I got cleared on Monday, I took a taxi straight to the vokcal (bus station), got on the most full marshutka home (for the least wait time), and waited to leave. A while after we left, I realized I was on a marshutka that goes through Kazakhstan. Some volunteers prefer this route, since it's generally safer in winter than the mountains. I prefer the mountain route, because I can sleep the whole time instead of getting out and hauling my stuff across the borders. I had also never crossed the borders without PC staff and had no idea what I was doing. Crossing the border back to Kyrgyzstan went a lot more smoothly, and by then I had started chatting with some people in the van. A short ways into the big KG, the marshutka handed an older woman and me off to a guy in a Subaru who would take us the rest of the way.

I got to Talas city while it was still dark, and returned to my village the next day after paying a visit to the post office. Thanks so much, you guys! To be greeted with packages and letters from such awesome friends and family is one of the all-time greatest feelings. I've written a response to most of you and will mail them out this weekend. (Darcy, I will not mail yours this weekend – don't expect quite the epic you sent me, but I refuse to send anything until it has some heft.)

Oh, how sweet it is to be home. Kirk Kazik home. One of my dogs, who isn't around right now but I'm expecting her every day, just had five puppies. My dog who is still around gets untied more regularly, so we can play more often. My nephews have been with us about half the time – and they are a trip. Being with everyone in my host family again felt incredible. Though absolutely everything in my room was frozen (including the cooking oil, who knew?) and my flowers dead, it felt so nice to be home. I still have those Christmas decorations my kids made everywhere, so many pictures of my friends and family, and seven weeks of laundry that had built up.

My host mom left for a break this week, so the big laundry day was just me and my little sister trying to play house and appreciating our mom like crazy. (She still is the lady of the house all this week, while I support her from afar.) I did most of my laundry in the machine and some by hand, to try and keep some of my clothes uneaten. I will never do laundry correctly here. My fingers lost a few layers of skin and have scabbed up rather nicely. My sister laughed at me, and my counterpart scolded me. She said I was testing her devotion and insisted I use her washing machine before trying again to do it by hand.

Speaking of my counterpart, last week she accepted the position of zavuch at my school. A zavuch is like a vice principal. A school can have several because they all have different duties – hers are preparing all the parties, holidays, and presentations. This job suits her personality well, but it means we cannot work together as much. Now we will only teach seventh forms together, and the rest I will teach with Ainura.

This semester I began teaching a sixth form class with Ainura for sustainability (yay, PC buzzwords!) reasons – Gulshair was/still is planning to leave the school when I leave Kyrgyzstan; she wants to work at the day care that's opening in my town. This would also be an awesome job for her. Ainura seems to love teaching. She has been a teacher maybe seven years and plans to continue for quite a while. She's very active in the classroom and during lesson planning. She brings good ideas to the table and is interested in hearing my ideas. She and Gulshair both attended a teachers' seminar last fall not just for the certificate (though those are always a plus here) but to learn new activities, new ideas. I hope that Ainura will want another volunteer when I leave. If this town wants a volunteer, they deserve one.

I suppose that's about all I have to say. Sorry it's been so long, but the longer I stall updating this blog, the more news I have to share!
I hope you're all healthy and happy!