Kazakh Chronicles #4

For the back story, read the first installment here. For explanations, scroll to the end when a footnote is marked.

Where do I begin? Vienna was great. So ordinary. So easy. Maya hardly had any reaction to the 8 different vaccines she got, which meant we could do all the shopping I ever dreamed of. Pierre picked us up from the airport, and while Cathy and Pierre were at work, Cathy's mom Sophia took great care of both Maya and me. My favourite part was the enormous salads she made for me at every meal, yum!![1]

We got to see Donna and Ernst and their daughter Katherina. Donna found a super toy for Maya that she just loves - a sunshine that sings "when you wish upon a star". We also got to see Anna and the boys, Anna shared her delicious Christmas baking with us, and even sent some with us when we left.

Saturday was the big shopping day. We shopped till we dropped, and it actually wasn't ridiculously crowded until about 3pm, when we were done anyway. Got to speak German all day, managed to get a haircut the opposite of what I wanted (I guess I'm still a little rusty), and tell an elderly Austrian couple who bucked in front of 4 baby strollers at the lift what I thought of their manners. So glad my German still comes in handy every now and then!

Sunday, we went to the Christmas markets, and then Pierre and Alexandre, who is 7, took Maya and me to the airport. Alexandre lugged one of my suitcases all the way to the check-in counter. What a kid!

Then we got back to Asstana.

As you can see by my typo, I'm not very pleased about it. Our kitchen and dining room are 13 degrees. (Outside is a balmy minus 35). Apparently "they" are going to fix it. I don't begin to understand what that means, other than it will likely be done either on Christmas day, or next June. My housekeeper arrived to see me in a very foul mood. The heating is just one of a multitude of grievances I have today. She agreed with me that maybe I should go to the gym for a little while, and she would watch Maya.

I really like her a lot, and so I'm really glad I didn't fire her last week.

I know you might not think that what she is a fireable offense, you might even consider it frugal, or resourceful, but you've got to feel safe and secure in your own home. After she left last week, I was in the kitchen washing a couple of dishes. I turned the dish soap container over and "goosh!" water mixed with soap came out. Now, I love Larisa, she is fantastic, but you just can't go about adding water to nearly empty containers of soap -

YOU BUY A NEW ONE!!

I admit, I have a little baggage about this from my childhood (milk in the nearly empty ketchup container, anyone?[3]), but I thought I was free of this kind of constant vigilance, except for the odd visit home these days to my parents’ place where I end up with a handful of soapy water when I think I am going to get a palmful of luxurious Aussie shampoo.

The problem is, now that this has happened in my own home, I never know what will be booby-trapped next. So, I was thinking I would just have to let her go. But the next time she came and she was working in the kitchen, and maybe I was spying on her, just a little bit, to see what she was going to add water to next, and I saw her cleaning around the edge of our stove top with a knife and a rag. I knew then and there I could never let her go. That is such dedication to clean!

Anyway, today she watched Maya while I went to the gym, and I had an enjoyable 45 minutes. Back in my freezing cold apartment, with my baby sleeping in my arms, I am enjoying hearing the sounds of the dust rag cleaning under the 20 candles I have lit to heat our home. Larisa's idea for heat is, of course, even better, as currently she is heating the kitchen with the stove top elements.

In other news, Tamara and Jarrett arrive here on Friday, provided they can leave London. It will be great to have them here. I hope they remember to pack their long underwear to wear inside our apartment. Cork will be there to pick them up at the airport. They had suggested making their own way here, but when someone offers you a "taxi" here, it usually means, " I will let you pay me to hitchhike a ride in my car".

Speaking of taxis, last Friday, I went to my first mom and babies' meeting. (I'll be perfectly honest, I have no idea whether or not I need an apostrophe there, or where it goes.) Maya and I got there by willpower. Curtis' assistant called me a cab (a real cab, though there is no indication on the actual vehicle, inside or out, that it is a cab), she gave them the destination address

(if you are paying attention, it was not Destination Paradise like the mall video in Chronicle #3)

and let me know what make of car to expect and at what time. When I got in the car with Maya, and we were all buckled in (I'm afraid this isn't always a possibility, which concerns me immensely), the driver asked, "where to?" I could not begin to fathom answering this question. I did say Green Village. Which is what it is called in English and in Russian (not zelonaya derevnye[4]). But he didn't know where it was. Nor did his dispatcher, or the other cab drivers he called in to, or the people on the street. He even called back Curtis' assistant. Finally, someone knew where it was, but it took driving around for 30 minutes (think: driving around lost in Brandon, Manitoba for 30 minutes, you aren't getting very far, trust me!). The willpower came from me not saying, forget it, take us home (I at least know that much Russian).

I enjoyed myself a lot once I got there, and the ride home was completely uneventful. I think once our car gets here, it will give Maya and me a lot more freedom[5]. It is difficult relying on other people to call a cab for you. It is frustrating when you take your car seat out to the pick-up spot, and you can't access the seat belt because it is covered in layers of blankets. I'm not really interested in taking the bus with Maya, as it is always so crowded, and it’s winter, so people are sick and coughing and spewing little nuggets of TB and Pleurisy[6] all around the bus. So I've really felt quite trapped here, and at the mercy of others. I guess that will be the next big adventure then - driving in Astana[7]!

Well, enjoy your new year's tree, as they say here, and also Merry Christmas.

Keeping the homefires burning,

Valerie

[1] Salad was something I did not eat in Kazakhstan. I very much followed the rule: Boil it, Cook it, Peel it, or Forget it. And being very Type A, I thought this meant, you must do all 3 things or not eat it at all.

[2] This picture was taken just a few days after our trip to Vienna. It was -40 Celsius that day. Not the ideal climate for an open air market.

[3] When I tell people about my dad mixing milk into the ketchup container to get every last bit of Heinz deliciousness out, I’m always surprised that it’s the milk part they get hung up on. Would water be better? How about soup broth?

[4] I vaguely recall making some sort of clever joke/pun here. But I’ve forgotten a lot of my Russian, and now I have no idea what it was…

[5] Silly, little, optimistic me. Spoiler alert: our car was lost in a port in China. Along with my piano Bernadette. It was another 4 months before they showed up!

[6] Ah, yes. Pre-pandemic. Because Pleurisy was such a real threat, lol!

[7] See Footnote number 5…

Relish

Kazakh Chronicles #3