January 20, 2012

As I was waiting to cross Rudaki Avenue on my way to the American Corner, I saw a young woman exit from a taxi wearing a mini-skirt, patterned-black hose, pumps with metal stiletto heels at least six inches long, a short leather coat and her waist-length hair flowing behind her. Beside her I felt like a bag lady with my pulled-down beret, scarf, thermal undershirt and pants, turtleneck sweater, heavy wool coat and hiking boots not to mention leather gloves. But then again, the temperature was a frigid 25F.

The embassy car was already waiting for Caroline and me to take us to the Kazakhstan embassy to obtain our transit visa for the trip to Nepal next month. We went up the steps of a staircase made up entirely of rebar, something I had never seen anywhere else. The reception area could barely accommodate all four of us and then three other people showed up. We had yet another form to complete and more photocopies to be made before being told to return in a week to see if that government felt we were entitled to set foot in their country. For the privilege of staying one night in Almity, we would need to pay $60.00.

Corrie, who had already initiated the process, joined us to claim her visa only to find out she had been granted a one-way visa and not the multiple entry one she had clearly marked on the form. The clerk indicated what had been done could not be undone and Corrie would need to apply for another visa upon arrival in Almity. We were then dropped off close to the Indian embassy to start yet another round of paperwork. Corrie recommended we get photocopies of all documents before entering the heavily guarded embassy as she had not seen a photocopy there. A little kiosk nearby provided copies and then we had to surrender our bags and even cell phones before proceeding inside. There was a short interview with some Indian guy who questioned me about being born in the Dominican Republic, what its capital was and exact geographical location. In a flippant manner, he was annoying me, I told him the island hadn’t moved as far as I knew and should still be part of the Caribbean Sea. We got the same response as the previous place: return in a week to see if we find you fit to set foot in India and be prepared to pay $52.00 for such precious opportunity.

Caroline went on to MultiKids and Corrie and I decided to search for the Uighur restaurant Ryan had sworn was located at the Vefa Center. After picking up my printer we stopped there and the doorman knew nothing about it and directed us to a very hip, modern-looking coffee shop offering snacks, desserts and coffee drinks. The young server told us the Uighur restaurant was located on the way to the airport and directed us to yet another Georgian restaurant nearby. It was the same story: a somewhat tasty pizza dough filled with cottage cheese and baked and a chunk of lamb swimming in a broth with something that looked like spinach. There was no seasoning, except for salt, to be tasted. I ordered what the server called “lemonade” and received something similar to a fizzy champagne cola. The bill came to 78.00 somoni and Corrie didn’t even have enough money to cover her share. And as usual, the food took forever to arrive although we were the only customers in the place.

I lay down for a nap once I reached my flat and was rudely awakened by some loud knocks on the door. A young guy handed me a letter from my girlfriend in Seattle that she had mailed prior to the Christmas season. I’m still holding out hope that her package, containing two bags of coffee beans, will arrive at my doorstep some day.

The phone rang and it was Pariso wanting to know if she could add my class schedule to the roster at the entrance to the English department. All I could say was that she better do it as she knew I was incapable of writing in Russian. She promised to call me back later on in the evening to discuss some other issues, but she never did. I notified her about my upcoming trip to Nepal.

The Kazakhstan embassy also called indicating they were having trouble with my documents. I had to call Corrie so she could call them back and verify my date of birth and spelling of my last name, something unbelievable since I had blown up a copy of my passport to make it even more legible.