Student Blog Entries

This past weekend I was lucky enough to go to an engagement party for my host-sister’s best friend. A few months ago, her and her boyfriend decided that they wanted to get married, so they set a date to get engaged. I was confused. In the States, we don’t typically “set a date” to get engaged. You either become engaged to be married when someone asks you, or you don’t. There’s not often an in-between state of engage-ness. At first, I thought that I had just misunderstood. That they had maybe talked about getting married at some distant point in the future, or that my host-sister’s friend was expecting to be asked by her boyfriend any day now. But, no. A few months ago they decided to formally get engaged on March 10th. So, to celebrate this engagement and the many cultural differences that make studying another’s way of life so appealing and rewarding, I decided to focus this article on all things wedding. Well, all things traditional Armenian wedding, to be precise.

For most Armenians weddings are oftentimes very formal, joyous occasions chock-full of long-standing traditions staunchly, or in some cases grudgingly, upheld. One such tradition is the “Khosk-kap.” This slightly formal event officially kicks off the engagement and is similar to what we in the States would call an engagement reception or party. Traditionally, this is when the groom’s parents would officially meet the bride’s parents and ask them for their daughter’s hand in marriage. If all goes according to plan, which it should considering that this is essentially a pre-arranged engagement, the groom-to-be will then present the engagement ring to his new fiancé and the eating, drinking, and typical Armenian revelry will commence. A priest is also usually present to bless the ring and the couple’s future plans to marry. This is the engagement that my host-sister was referring to.

Some other interesting customs present during many Armenian weddings revolve around the “azapbashi,” close to what we might refer to as the best man, and the “kavor,” or godfather. In Armenian culture the “kavor” is arguably the most important figure in the wedding, except for maybe the bride and groom of course. He is typically a close friend of the family chosen to be the couple’s sponsor and responsible for much of the wedding details and for guiding the couple in their new life as man and wife. He is also one of the first, if not the first, to be toasted at the reception following the church ceremony. 

Armenian weddings are also known for their festive, exuberant quality. Before the wedding, the groom’s party, headed by the “kavor” and his accompanying musicians, sing and dance their way to the bride’s house with “sinis,” traditional gift-wrapped baskets full of various goodies for the bride. Traditionally, the “sini” would carry everything that the bride would need for her big day: shoes, veil, perfume, make-up, brandy, chocolate, and even flowers. After the gift baskets are handed over, the men proceed to drink and make merry while the women help the bride get ready for her big day. Sometime around this time candy is thrown at the women helping the bride and one of the bride’s shoes is stolen and must be paid for by someone from the groom’s party, usually the “kavor.” When the bride is ready, she meets her future husband and they all eat, drink, and toast to the happy couple. Before leaving the bride’s house for the ceremony, one of her younger male relatives blocks the door with a sword until he is given a coin by the groom’s side. Then everyone lines up into a large, rather raucous caravan led by a limousine decked out in flowers and banners, or maybe even a dead animal if in the village.

After the church ceremony, if there is one, the wedding party heads over to the groom’s house where, traditionally, his mother is there to greet the newly wed couple. Interestingly enough, the mothers of both the bride and groom are not supposed to participate in the wedding ceremony itself. Customarily, the mother of the bride is to stay home mourning the loss of her daughter, while the groom’s mother is to stay home preparing to welcome her new daughter. Of course, this old practice is not strictly adhered to nowadays. However, the groom’s mother does normally greet the newly married couple by draping lavash on the shoulder of both the bride and groom. This probably comes from an ancient story about Astghik, the Armenian goddess of love, when she was to marry Vahagn, the Armenian god of warriors. Aramazd, the god of all gods, placed a piece of lavash on her shoulder. But when she dropped it in her excitement to get to her groom’s home, the wedding was cancelled; for according to Aramazd, whoever drops bread on the floor cannot be a wife and mother. Hmmm…

Anyways, as the new couple enters the house of the groom’s parents, they each break a plate that had been placed in the threshold by the groom’s mother. Once the plates are broken, they are permitted to enter the house and the feasting may begin. Typically, these affairs last all night. In the villages it is very common for neighbors to greet the new couple by setting up small tables filled with food, drinks, and gifts in front of the groom’s house. However, this is typically not done in Yerevan. By the way, the traditional wedding gift is jewelry, preferably gold, for the bride. This differs from the customary crystal and silverware given in the States, although Armenians are beginning to do this more recently.

There are more traditions dealing with stolen chickens, doves, bulls, and even apples—some more pleasant than others. But all in all, Armenians like to have fun, eat, drink, dance, and celebrate life to its fullest. What better venue for that than an Armenian wedding where families and friends gather to celebrate the exciting new life of one of their loved ones by honoring the traditions of the past?

Amy Nicole Stidger is studying Armenian in Yerevan, Armenia.

I've had a lot of time this summer to think about the little things that surprise, vex, and attract me to life in the former Soviet Union, and Kazakhstan in particular. While far from comprehensive, I feel like this list helps capture some of what it feels like to be here.

1) When women order beer, it comes with a straw. If it's a particularly classy place, you can bet that the straw will, at a minimum, be fun, twisty, and brightly colored. I really love drinking through straws, so I find this peculiarity simultaneously bemusing and fun. I can blow bubbles in my beer if the mood strikes. However, it also, in my opinion, highlights gender differences apparent here: it would undermine one's femininity to slurp directly from a big mug of beer.

2) Don't EVER put your purse directly on the ground. You will lose all your money... or so the superstition goes. I once, in the course of conversation, mentioned placing my purse on the ground to my yoga instructor; this statement was met with a horrified expression and an aghast, but WHY would you ever do that?? Since I am a grad student and have little enough money to spare anyway, I have surreptitiously carried over this practice of purse-off-the-ground into my daily life even in the U.S. Just in case.

3) To the uninitiated, anything that would normally feature an orderly queue in the West resembles a small mob scene in the FSU. This is actually not the case. Lines exist, they just aren't... linear. Upon arriving somewhere that people are waiting for service, you must yell out, "кто последный?!" in order to determine the person ahead of you. Remember this person, because they will usually kindly save your place in line if you need to run to the bathroom.

4) Direct speech gets you a lot further than timidity. The first time I lived in this region, I found this directness unspeakably rude. If I were working as a waitress in the U.S. and someone caught my attention by yelling "girl!" I'd probably refuse to wait on them. Now, with a few years in Russia and Kazakhstan under my belt, I find that I sometimes enjoy doing away with niceties. I've become a lot more assertive. In a way, it's refreshing to be able to say to a taxi driver who clearly has no idea where they're going -- "where exactly are you going?!" -- with no "excuse me" or worries about injured feelings. Everyone has a bit thicker skin here, and maybe that's not a bad thing.

5) Older women in this part of the world tend, in my experience, to be a wonderful mix of incredibly tough, self-sufficient, direct, practical, warm, compassionate, accepting, and mothering. They will, simultaneously, sympathetically listen to your problems, feed you an insane amount of food, comfort you, and tell you to stop feeling sorry for yourself and get on with your life (in so many words). There really is nothing else in the world quite like a бабушка. I look forward to dying my hair a crazy color and following in their footsteps in my old age.

6) Coffee usually means instant coffee... no, I will never be able to see the sunny side on this one. Luckily (for my classmates, especially) real coffee is increasingly easy to find.

Margaret Hanson is studying Kazakh in Almaty, Kazakhstan.

Along with delight at returning to a country familiar to me from childhood, the overwhelming impression I have had of Almaty, Kazakhstan, since arriving here for the Kazakh language program, is one of vivacious cosmopolitanism and creativity. Perhaps this is in part because of my host family, who kindly welcomed me into a home full of evidence of travels beyond borders, with links to and experience from places as diverse as Italy, Dubai, the US, and China. My host mother spent time getting her master’s degree only an hour away from where I live in the US! The whole family is well-travelled, connected to international events and people, and their interest in adopting a stray American for the summer clearly springs from a sense of the value of cross-cultural interaction (as well as from the Kazakh tradition of genuine hospitality).

Even if such explicitly international lifestyles are not common to everyone, many of the people I have talked to have travelled outside of Kazakhstan for one reason or another, if only to shop in China for goods to sell in Almaty! Others have relative s to visit in their countries of national origin, people who remained in or later immigrated to Germany, Russia, Israel, or elsewhere. Then, of course, there is the world as it comes to Kazakhstan – from the oil companies in the West that provide and color many people’s experience of work in an international setting, to the plethora of new international franchises setting up shop in Almaty. International visitors, like the (most impressive!) German couple I met who were cycling from Berlin to China, also contribute to this overall impression of vitality and connectivity.

On my very first day here, my host sister took me under her wing for a trip to the mall and some outdoor events, all of which highlighted how connected the city is to the global marketplace. The mall was full of shops and restaurants that I recognized from both the US and the UK (even a Lush store, always fun from the UK!), with others from Australia and elsewhere. We went by a concert, sponsored by Fanta, where a popular singer from Italy and his group performed in English, Kazakh and Russian (often all in one song). We attended a motorcycle-horse show, sponsored by Red Bull, featuring impressive airborne acrobatics by the cyclists and impressive horse-riding skills by a group in traditional (well, traditional-inspired) Kazakh outfits. They even combined the two, as one of the horsemen rode straddling two horses as a motorcyclist drove between them.

As the creative approach of these performances suggests, my impression, at least, is that globalization is less a matter of imitation than of incorporation – a chance to try different things and experiment with new ideas. Perhaps this experimentation springs from necessity rather than leisure. A lovely lady who started her own curtain-making business in western Kazakhstan (in a setting where demand is high as oil workers cycle through) perceptively traced her entrepreneurial skills to earlier experience helping with her mother’s improvised businesses in the years just after everything collapsed. Still, it is striking that such challenges are met with entrepreneurship, rather than with inertia. From the small tramcar café that rides through Almaty twice every evening, providing a quirky and classy (if occasionally lurching) dining experience, to the lady who runs a sort of bespoke fairy-tale book business (personalized to star the child or friend of your choice, in English, Russian and Kazakh), the sense of inventiveness and possibility is palpable.

This dynamic creativity is reflected in the linguistic context as well. In our Kazakh class itself, we speak mainly Kazakh, of course, but explanations are conducted in an improvised mix of Russian, German, and English that always keeps things lively. Conversations on the street and discussions at home similarly involve a whirlpool of languages, which often adds a dimension of camaraderie to even the most mundane conversations.  Even at the karaoke bar with my host mother (where my attempt to contribute an Abba song left much to be desired), the group moved between beautiful Kazakh songs and soulful Russian ballads, pop music in English and whatever language is used in Shakira’s “Waka Waka”, with wholehearted enjoyment.

It is an exciting and colorful environment in which to learn.

Rebekah Ramsay is studying Kazakh in Almaty, Kazakhstan (summer 2012).

One of the most remarkable aspects of cultural life in Tajikistan is the way in which layers of history and tradition intersect, bringing together ancient and modern, religious and secular, always with family and community at the heart of any celebration.

In early November, Tajikistan celebrated Idi Qurbon, a Muslim holiday which remembers Abraham’s willingness to sacrifice his son Isaac. In Tajikistan, traditional celebrations honor both family ties and sacrifice. Guesting, both visiting friends and family and receiving guests, stretches across several days surrounding the holiday. Each house prepares a dasturxon, a table covered with treats for anyone that might happen to pop by. For my host mother and sisters, the week leading up to Idi Qurbon was filled with cleaning house, trips to the bazaar for fruit and honey, and endless baking: cakes, cookies, meat-filled sambusas, and pastries of every shape and sort. After the flurry of eating and guesting subsides, families return to their homes to tidy up, digest, and discuss the holiday goings on: who put out the best dasturxon, who did or didn’t come by, whose recipes we should ask for. The other side of the Idi Qurbon message, sacrifice, is symbolized in the communal sacrifice of a sheep or goat; in my family, as in many others, this task was taken up by our grandfather, so that all generations could gather under one roof to share in the feast.

As a cold and rainy autumn has given way to a crisp and sunny winter, signs of another important holiday are cropping up throughout the city of Dushanbe. Come December, first-time visitors to Tajikistan might be surprised to find themselves in a city dressed to the nines in familiar holiday colors and characters:  bushy-bearded Father Christmases, jolly snowmen, holly and tinsel, and, of course, lots and lots of twinkling neon lights.

During the Soviet period, celebration of the religious holiday of Christmas and all its trimmings were reoriented into secular and more ideologically acceptable New Year’s festivities; both modern and traditional families in Tajikistan continue to celebrate New Year’s with many customs bearing a strong resemblance to our own American Christmas. Relatives travel from near and far to gather around a special holiday meal on December 31. The last several weeks of December are spent shopping for the perfect gifts to put under the tree for friends and family, and the stores and television channels even advertise “holiday sales.” The city of Dushanbe erects a giant Christmas tree in the central square each year, and residents wait in anticipation for its lighting.

This weekend, I accompanied my host family to the bazaar to select a Christmas tree of our own. Echoing my own family’s yearly Christmas preparations, my host mother pulled a box of decorations down from the attic, a cacophony of beautiful, store-bought “nice” ornaments, tacky gifts from years past, and school projects and handmade decorations accumulated throughout 25 years by children and now grandchildren. The tree was topped off with hand-sewn garlands of chestnuts and dried mulberries, much the same way that my sisters and I used to thread together strings of popcorn for our tree. I even persuaded my host family to break out “Ирония судьбы” (The Irony of Fate), a more chipper Soviet equivalent of “It’s a Wonderful Life” that many Tajik families watch on New Year’s Day. While any study abroad experience should be built upon new experiences, exploration, and discovery, these familiar, comfortable moments with family and friends also serve to remind us of our human connections and commonalities.

- Margaret Sullivan is studying Tajiki in Dushanbe, Tajikistan.

As you enter the city of Dushanbe from the north, you pass a cement factory, the outer walls of which are decorated with portraits of the Qahramoni Tojikiston, the “Heroes of Tajikistan.” Here you will find the historical father of the Tajiks, 10th century king Ismoili Somoni; Persian classical poets such as Rudaki and Firdavsi; Soviet writer and pioneer of modern Tajik language Sadriddin Ayni; and, of course, Tajikistan’s current president.

Fall has finally fallen upon Dushanbe, bringing with it an eye-catching bounty of fruits, vegetables, beans and other fresh and flavorful ingredients. For many, “Central Asian cuisine” brings to mind one thing: meat. From Persian-style kebabs and savory stews to more esoteric delicacies like bone-marrow soup, these dishes certainly abound in Tajikistan; on a recent trip to the Pamirs, students even dined on fresh mountain goat.

A friend of mine in Dushanbe is Iranian-American and last weekend her parents came to visit.  One of their throw-away comments was Tajiks live like Iranians did 100 years ago.  Although this was not a serious assessment – it was meant facetiously – they had a point that life in Dushanbe is more oriented towards the extended family than it is in more atomized “western” societies.  This does not mean that Tajik culture exists in homeostasis, untouched by the outside world.  The Tajiks I know in Dushanbe have cell phones, access to the internet; they wa

I have a Dungan babushka. She is AWESOME. I spent Sunday with Zarina, my Russian peer tutor. We first visited Baraholka, a mega-bazaaropolis on the outskirts of Almaty, before a traditional Dungan dinner at her home with her gracious family. Prepare yourselves for a two-part blog post! I will first write about Zarina’s family and then will devote a different post to Baraholka.

I am more than half way through my semester here and I have seen so much improvement in my Farsi language skills. I am taking one class of Tajiki where we focus on learning the alphabet and reading texts in Cyrillic as well as learning words that are used in the Tajik dialect versus the Farsi. I have made some amazing friends and met many cool people from all backgrounds in this country. I love meeting with my peer tutors or conversation partners. I have two, a Tajik one where we focus on cultural sights and an Iranian one where we focus on conversation and talking about various topics.

I spent last year living in Tajikistan with a host family and working alongside Tajiks for an international organization. Now, as a student in an American organization with 11 American peers and a new host family that I don’t know very well, I have less contact with Tajiks than before. However, now that I’m studying Dari, the form of Persian spoken in Afghanistan, I have much more contact with Afghans than I ever have before. I have two teachers from Afghanistan—one from Kabul and one from the northwest part of the country—who each teach me for seven hours a week.

Spain was an enchanted country for me. And until coming to Georgia in the summer of 2009, I had not been to a place comparable in enchantment. I am grateful that American Councils made it possible to come and study Chechen and Georgian in Tbilisi. Chechen was my first language of intensive study and I lived at my teacher’s sister’s place for over a year. In this way I not only studied the language but also participated in Chechen cultural life, learning a lot about Chechen traditions and perspectives.

Cucco! I had awakened to the sound of a rooster. The natural call of this farm animal put me in a good mood despite obtaining only a few hours of rest. It was 7am but the sun’s rays poured in the country house like ink on canvas. I washed my hands and face and said my Salams and Sobh Bakhayrs to the host and rest of the family. Today was the day they were bringing the arus, or bride to this qishlaq, or village, for the wedding. We sat around the dastsarkhan, a tablecloth used to serve food on, as breakfast was quickly brought to us.

I can’t believe my time here in Chisinau is nearing its end. And I regret that I will be leaving right when summer is starting. Chisinau seems like a completely different place than the city I arrived in four months earlier. There have been consistently sunny days and warm temperature, while we have generally been spared from any spring showers.

The digital-sounding-Nokia-standard-ring tone went off from my right pocket.

“Salom!” I answered, “… Yeah, I’m on my way… Umm, Okay, I’ll do that… I see one right now.” I bent down to pick up a stick off the ground and continued walking, “ See you in a minute.” I replied as I rounded the corner and hung up the phone.

On the day of the traditional Persian New Year the population of Dushanbe, dressed in their finest, flooded into the botanical garden for the official Navruz celebration. At least the women were well dressed, almost every one was decked out in a brightly colored national dress, high heels, full makeup and sparkling hair ornaments.

My 22nd birthday was bound to be memorable simply by virtue of location, but it certainly surpassed all expectations. I was only in the country a week before my birthday and the day was gray and a sorry change from the balmy weather we had had since arriving, but my host family, teachers and fellow students pulled out the stops to really make it a celebration.