It's the official last evening of Fall Semester. Unlike most people, I don't measure my life in years, but in semesters. And at the end of each semester I try to reflect upon what I have learned.
It isn't the best time to reflect, because I am tired and ready to rest, but I think there are a couple of things I might have learned in my journey through approximately the 100th semester of my life--if one counts nursery school, doesn't include summer semesters, considers each rare six-month period I didn't work in education as a semester, and converts the quarters I spent at Eastern Washington University and the University of Washington into the semester system.
I learned that there are 18,774 potholes on the road from Darvaz to Khorog and that I landed in 11,209 of them. I learned that one's kidneys can recover from landing in 11,209 potholes, but it does take a couple days. I learned that I am happy eating boiled buckwheat (grechka) four times a week. It's that fifth time that really pushes you over the edge. I learned that it can take up to six months to acquire 100 coffee mugs and get them shipped to campus.
In the world of current events, I learned that being an American is something one doesn't advertise quite so freely anymore, now that our new leader is in power. Most people had a warm glow around them when I spoke with them about our previous President. The current leader causes awkward silences, looks of horror, expressions of condolences, and discussions laced with outright fear. I am learning that it doesn't take much misconduct or effort to dismantle political institutions and social programs that define a nation's greatness.
Of course, what I've learned most acutely are the things I re-learn every semester of my life. I learned that I truly enjoy working with college students--for about the 50th time. I learned that collaborating with the people on my student life team (on two campuses) is one of the most fulfilling things that I do in my life from semester to semester. I learned that my strengths are input, maximizer, ideation, intellection, and positivity--though some days I wonder, especially about that last one. I've learned to appreciate acronyms and the ideals and people they represent more and more like SLA, SLT, SLAT, ACLU, NRCAT, AKDN, CU, UP, WISP, MLA, INTP/J, C-R, and countless others. Conversely there are acronyms that I dread, but if I mention them I will find myself in serious trouble. One of the little gems that I had forgotten but have put high on my list of important lessons to never stop learning is that laughter is a wondrous gift one should never do without. Most important of all, I have learned again that the connections one makes with other people are what causes life to be joyful and worth living.
Next year begins the 101st--or so--semester of my life. The best part of living life in semesters is that when you think of your life in this way, as continuous segments of learning, then it is the precious lessons that you acquire that begin to take precedence in your life and you realize that every day can be like a commencement, the advent of a deeper, richer life.
Saturday, December 16, 2017
Adaptability: Saturday Morning Breakfast in Kyrgyzstan
One of the challenges of being an expat living in a remote place is the disconnection you feel from that which you are accustomed. And food is one of the biggest challenges.
Adaptability and resourcefulness are what a person must possess in abundance in order to maintain one's sense of equanimity. My Saturday morning breakfast was my humble effort to live up to this credo.
I always try to cook up something comforting and special on my Saturday morning. It is a reminder of a family custom, as my parents would endeavor to make french toast or Swedish Custard Pancakes or omelettes or a decadent breakfast casserole for our breakfasts when I was a child. And so today it was a breakfast burrito that I hoped to make in order to create a warm, pleasant Saturday.
But the only ingredients for breakfast burritos that can be obtained in Naryn are eggs, milk, and onions. The rest must be tracked down, invented or adapted. No tortillas? That's OK, I can use the wonderful roti that I have in my freezer, a gift from a co-worker; they work as well, maybe even better. Don't forget the salsa and American cheese I managed to find last time I was in Bishkek. Resourcefulness: that comes from the chipotle sauce I managed to create and invent, almost from sheer determination.
Ahhh. The final product. Not a typical breakfast burrito. In fact it was unlike any breakfast burrito I've ever had. But, oh, it was a hot, rich, creamy, spicy, and savory plate of goodness.
In all the world, and even in the familiar lives of our customary homes, the joy that comes from adapting and transforming what we have to what we enjoy: it is a challenge that defines how we live and how we feel. And it is important to remember that these potential moments of zen can even be found in something as simple as the act of creating a breakfast burrito.
Adaptability and resourcefulness are what a person must possess in abundance in order to maintain one's sense of equanimity. My Saturday morning breakfast was my humble effort to live up to this credo.
I always try to cook up something comforting and special on my Saturday morning. It is a reminder of a family custom, as my parents would endeavor to make french toast or Swedish Custard Pancakes or omelettes or a decadent breakfast casserole for our breakfasts when I was a child. And so today it was a breakfast burrito that I hoped to make in order to create a warm, pleasant Saturday.
But the only ingredients for breakfast burritos that can be obtained in Naryn are eggs, milk, and onions. The rest must be tracked down, invented or adapted. No tortillas? That's OK, I can use the wonderful roti that I have in my freezer, a gift from a co-worker; they work as well, maybe even better. Don't forget the salsa and American cheese I managed to find last time I was in Bishkek. Resourcefulness: that comes from the chipotle sauce I managed to create and invent, almost from sheer determination.
Ahhh. The final product. Not a typical breakfast burrito. In fact it was unlike any breakfast burrito I've ever had. But, oh, it was a hot, rich, creamy, spicy, and savory plate of goodness.
In all the world, and even in the familiar lives of our customary homes, the joy that comes from adapting and transforming what we have to what we enjoy: it is a challenge that defines how we live and how we feel. And it is important to remember that these potential moments of zen can even be found in something as simple as the act of creating a breakfast burrito.
What Avocados Mean
Winter in Naryn hasn't arrived in full force yet this year. By December of last year we already had tons of snow on the ground--this year, strangely enough, Bishkek, usually a much more temperate place, has had far more snow and inclement weather. I am actually spending my December Naryn days wandering around outside looking at the barren, snowless mountains.
While the advance of winter is not discernible by observing the current weather, I discovered a much more pleasant omen of the season in Bishkek. Winter in Kyrgyzstan is also marked by the beginning of avocado season. In the U.S. avocados are plentiful all 365 days of the year in all but the most-isolated, rural outposts. Here, however, avocados are rare and precious and are usually only found in urban settings from December through April. In almost perfect harmony with the start of Advent, I discovered the first avocados of the season in one of my favorite Bishkek markets.
When avocados are precious they carry greater meaning. I brought mine back to Naryn in my carry-on bag, cradled in between some soft new socks I had purchased. A few I gave away to a couple of fellow avocado aficionados who share my affinities, but I saved two to make something particularly satisfying to the taste when one lives in a bright yellow spaceship in the Kyrgyz mountains. A spicy batch of guacamole--a gift of green richness to herald the entrance of the season.
When I am in the U.S., avocados mean very little as they are omnipresent and guacamole can be even found in gas station convenience stores. What a newfound joy it is when something familiar, like the hard-skinned but delicate avocado, suddenly acquires profound new meaning.
While the advance of winter is not discernible by observing the current weather, I discovered a much more pleasant omen of the season in Bishkek. Winter in Kyrgyzstan is also marked by the beginning of avocado season. In the U.S. avocados are plentiful all 365 days of the year in all but the most-isolated, rural outposts. Here, however, avocados are rare and precious and are usually only found in urban settings from December through April. In almost perfect harmony with the start of Advent, I discovered the first avocados of the season in one of my favorite Bishkek markets.
When avocados are precious they carry greater meaning. I brought mine back to Naryn in my carry-on bag, cradled in between some soft new socks I had purchased. A few I gave away to a couple of fellow avocado aficionados who share my affinities, but I saved two to make something particularly satisfying to the taste when one lives in a bright yellow spaceship in the Kyrgyz mountains. A spicy batch of guacamole--a gift of green richness to herald the entrance of the season.
When I am in the U.S., avocados mean very little as they are omnipresent and guacamole can be even found in gas station convenience stores. What a newfound joy it is when something familiar, like the hard-skinned but delicate avocado, suddenly acquires profound new meaning.
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