November 2, 2011

 I sat down at my computer this morning only to realize that I didn’t have Internet access. I was operating under the mistaken belief that since the service had started on October 2 that I‘d be entitled to complete month. Got dressed and trooped to the nearby shopping complex in the hope that a branch of Megaphone, my Internet provider, would be located in the area. The first man I approached informed me I could pay for Internet in the same I had done for the cell phone and pointed to what looks like an ATM. This is one was not accepting bills and the security guard for the store nearby walked me in so I could use the one inside. It’s indeed a very simple system as you just punch in the telephone number associated with the account, slip the bill in the slot and get a receipt.

The classroom that the dean had assigned me the day before, with the small, but usable whiteboard, was locked as was his office. Went to Pariso’s classroom and she told me to just wait for a few minutes as the dean was most likely finishing one of his classes. I let her know in no uncertain terms that I getting sick of waiting in the hallway for access to classrooms. She told me that as an alternative I could walk to the Resource Room, three buildings away, and wait there. I could not hide my displeasure and walked away sulking like a child.

Twenty minutes later, the dean was nowhere to be found and no key seemed to be available. I reiterated to Pariso that we had made an agreement that I was not going to teach in a classroom with a blackboard. At this point, the students were milling around wondering why class was being held up. Some of the guys asked permission to get a snack and I gave it to them. As furious as I was, I could not cancel class in front of the eager students and muttering under my breath agreed to go back into the one classroom with the worst blackboard, the one full of indentations and so smooth the chalk slides right over the surface.

Met with Caroline at the stationery store and bought another extension cord as the one I had blew up the other day. They didn’t have a deck of card which I want to use to disband the groups already formed in the classroom and assign them randomly according to whatever card they are dealt. At the next stationery store, they didn’t have it either, but the young man walked us to yet another store where I was able to purchase one for about $6.00 or 30 somonis. To think that such a deck of cards only set me back a dollar in the States.

My apartment had no electricity when I walked in, which was inexplicable given the fact that the light on the landing was on. I called my landlord and he was able to say he was at the office and would come by the next day, which of course, was unacceptable to me. I called the realtor, Dilia, and she agreed to contact the landlady. I sat in the hallway, the only place where a bit of light from the landing could be see, waiting for a call back. My main concern at that point was that maybe the landlady had failed to pay the bill and power had been disconnected.

In the meantime, I had made plans to attend Nigina’s birthday dinner at a restaurant within walking distance of my apartment and waited for Ryan and Yoomie to come by. Ryan was carrying a pretty bag, obviously a present, and Ashley, a guy in this case, from the U. K. had brought chocolates. Yoomie didn’t seem to be carrying a present and I felt slightly better. I had met Nigina online through Couch Surfing and this was our first meeting in person. Still, it was thoughtless of me not to pick up a box of chocolates while walking along Rudaki Avenue.

                                     
                                                                    Nigina and Ryan

The restaurant in question was large, well lighted and tastefully decorated. All servers wore maroon uniforms and we were taken to Nigina’s table, which was already laden with plates of fruit, a variety of salads and drinks. I was famished and wondered how to proceed. After the proper introductions were made, I asked Nigina how I should proceed to place my order and she told we were her guests and she was footing our bill in its entirety. This time I felt even worse for not having brought a present. Ryan reassured me this is the Tajik tradition and I should acquiesce. Baskets of flat bread and tea were brought over and finally a menu produced, but I had forgotten to bring my reading glasses and could not make out what offerings were. Ryan suggested something that was not chicken and I went along while noshing on the salads, fruits and bread. It was a good thing I did so for my dish, cubes of brown beef with some cocktail onions and bits of carrots served with a side of white rice, was beyond bland and the presentation simply pedestrian. I only ate a couple of tablespoons before giving up on it.

Nigina had to return to her house where her parents were waiting for her to continue the celebration. I called Dilia again and she told my landlady had not answered her numerous calls. Ryan offered his place for me to stay the night, but I wanted to sleep in my place. I sat once again in the hallway, keeping the door open, and waited for Dilia to try once again to reach my landlord, who I came to find out is an employee of my landlady, and not her husband. One of the tenants on my floor saw there and asked me, in Russian of course, if there was a problem. I pointed to the ceiling and mimed “no lights” and he mimed back “wait a minute”. He went downstairs, where the main electrical box is, and came back asking me is everything was “OK” now. No, I didn’t have power yet. He came back upstairs and counted with his fingers to confirm my apartment number. I said #32 and back down he went. Power was back on and none too soon for even with my coat on, I was beginning to feel cold. I thanked the guy profusely and went into the bedroom to turn on the space heater.

Jamshed showed up a few minutes later to inform me that from now on I needed to call Dilia with any messages as he could not understand me at all. I wanted to respond that his boss should not be renting apartments to foreigners if she has no intentions of responding in a crisis or has an intermediary to communicate through. To add insult to injury, the electric bill had been left at the door and he requested that I pay the 19.80 somonis immediately.