Adventures at the Green Market

Mike here.

It's interesting to me that, at least for me, while our trip is all about Mia, more and more of my thoughts are about Linda, Tucker, and me, and our interactions with people and things around us than it is about the one to three hours we spend with our daughter.

For example, I think I've mentioned before that places like the green market make me feel terribly claustrophobic in general -- especially when everyone's staring at you, you can't find what you want, you can't ask for it intelligently, and you don't know what people are saying when they tell you things. Linda thrives on this. Today, however, I had fun. First of all, we all walked. No stroller this time, as Tucker seems to be getting dependent on it, and it's very inconvenient in the tight and chaotic quarters of the green market. Most of the time he was quite well-behaved, and was constantly on the lookout for the toy stands -- particularly for anything that had anything related to Spiderman on it. they know who Spiderman is here, incidentally -- but you have to say it in a very thick Russian/Kazakh accent to recognize it (sounds a little more like "Speieydyedrmann"). At one point, he was very insistent that we turn around and look at something he's spotted across the aisle, and it turned out to be the one-square-inch corner of a towel sticking out from a towel about a dozen down in a tall stack that happened to have a pattern that looked a little like Spiderman's uniform. We had to convince him it was a false alarm before he'd proceed peacefully.

For me personally, facing my trepidation about the green market has been a matter of accepting my fate -- that this is going to be not only our best source of food and goods, but our best source of entertainment as well. Describe the green market, you ask? Very difficult. I would LOVE to walk through it with a video camera, but I feel like it would be far to invasive. We might even run the risk of having the camera confiscated. Perhaps I'll purchase a disposable still camera just for that purpose... Hmmm... Anyway, it's essentially a big permanent flea markey. There are booths that sell just about everything. I remarked today that it's like what Donna Childers (a teacher I work with) says about Wallmart: "If you cain't find it here, you don't need it." There are people selling right out of the backs of what look like containers (the kind that come off of ships). There are people selling electronics, bulk foods, household goods, clothing, mechanical gear, raw materials... Anything you can think of. Prices are much cheaper here than they are at the "Viola Market," which is our other usual source of such things. Of course, it's much more of an adventure because you have to find it. We've met some very friendly people, though -- I think Linda will mention them in her post for today.

Linda also mentioned the five Kazakh men sitting next to us at the table in the "restaurant" we visited today. Were we not pretty hungry, I probably would not have set foot in the place with the three of us. But ultimately I felt safe because there were women and other kids there at first. She wasn't exaggerating about the amount of beer and vodka at the next table. I also noticed a custom that I used to engage in with friends -- that of never pouring your own drink -- a sure sign that there was a bit of drinking going on. One curious thing that happened is that at one point all six of the men left, and we thought they were gone. I thought this curious because their beers were only half gone (though the vodka was empty). However, they all came back about 5-10 minutes later. It's as if they all went to the bathroom together or something (do MEN do that here instead of women?). I might have guessed that they stepped out for a smoke, but I suspect they'd have lit up at the table if that were the issue. A mystery for now.

At one point, some very intimidating men walked in. One guy especially looked like somebody in a Jeanne-Claude Van Damm movie: piercing gaze, very fit, almost bald, bit of a fu-man-chu mustache, muscle shirt, and a tattoo on his arm. He ended up sitting at the table right behind us, which meant we shared a double-wide bench for a little bit. For all I know he was a dentist or an accountant or something.

The bottom line is that, though much of this feels adveturous and oh so daring, it's normal life here, and I really think we're quite safe as long as we don't do anything stupid.

It's also been a source of entertainment, as I've mentioned, to learn more of the language. Especially important in lowering the stress factor is learning some of the numbers. In particular, it's important to know the prices and weights that come up the most often. Since 130 (now 131, actually) Tenge is one dollar, the numbers are generally pretty big, too. For instance, the Shashlyk (kabobs) and Piva (beer) that we bought today cost us somewhere around 730 Tenge (that's syem-dyisyit triestat). Or, since most products are sold by weight, and you have to ask for them as such, it's inconvenient for everyone to just hold out your hands and say "about that much." Better if you can say "250 grams" (dyeste pidisyat) or "half a kilogram" (polovina kilagramm, or pol-kilo). Just this little bit of communication goes a long way. Especially recognizing the numbers when people say them makes you a little more confident, and makes you feel like you're not getting cheated (though, again, I have never really felt that way yet).

Anyway, be sure to scroll down, as usual, to see Linda's blog and new pictures!