Khujand

Those of you who are not on Facebook may not have hear about my recent jaunt over to Khujand - one of the northernmost cities in Tajikistan. We (other students and I) took a car and driver from Dushanbe to Panjakent to  Istaravshan to Khujand. While Panjakent and Istaravshan are amazing , this blog post is going to focus on a.) the long drive to Khujand and b.) why Khujand was worth the journey.

In order to reach Khujand by car we had to travel through a long tunnel built by the Iranians and then proceed to climb over the Shahristan Pass. The Iranian Tunnel would be a perfect set for a horror movie. The tunnel isn't lit, and is filled with debris, water, ice, boulders, and who knows what else. It's a death trap. Crossing the Shahristan Pass was also quite an adventure - the views were absolutely gorgeous, but I definitely felt like a rag doll being tossed around in the back of the Range Rover.

The cliffs are steep, there are no guard rails (or bathrooms) and if you look over the side of the road you can see the remnants of wrecked cars. Occasionally we were delayed by a herd of goats moving from winter to summer pastures, and I probably ate half a kilo of fresh cherries on the journey (yum!). Travelling the Khujand wasn't a cultural experience - but I gained a newfound appreciation for Tajikistan's rugged, inaccessible beauty.

Khujand is also home to some awesome history - Khujand was the northernmost city founded by Alexander the Great during his conquest of Central Asia. Khujand is (was) also home to the largest Lenin statue in Central Asia, which is now being moved to a new location in Tajikistan. We were able to visit the statue just as it was being dismantled by the Tajik government.

Besides my trip to Khujand the only other news worthy event has been my little host sister's 7th birthday. Tajiks love parties - and when a birthday or any other special event rolls around a family is expected to throw a lavish (by Tajik standards) feast to commemorate the event. My host mother told me that Shukrona's birthday party would be a small affair - but when I returned home from the office there were about adult relatives and maybe 10 children in our howli (courtyard) doing what all Tajiks do during parties - eat, talk, and drink tea. Conversation centered around the price of meat in Tajikistan, the terrible Tajik economy, marriage, kileens, and finding a Tajik husband for myself.

I'll try to squeeze in a few more updates before I return to the U.S. on May 23rd - a journey I'm begining to dread. I love my host family, have a good grasp on the language here, and feel like I still have so much to learn. I'm already trying to figure out how to wrangle a return to Tajikistan (sorry Mom).

Tajik Wedding Photos

I know it's been a while since I've updated the blog - and I have so much updating to do. For the sake of saving myself some time, for this entry I'm simply going to post photos of a Tajik wedding I attended in a little village about an hour or so outside of Dushanbe. For background information, I encourage you to read this article from the Foreign Policy Blogs Network and this article from BBC News.

BBQ in the 'Stan

Greetings!

I'm sorry I haven't updated in the past two weeks - but nothing terribly exciting has happened here in Dushanbe. The biggest development thus far has been an issue with my laptop's battery - my six year old sister spilled choi (tea) on my laptop, and while my computer work(ed) just fine, the battery won't charge. Fortunately my computer is under warranty (thank you, Aunt Monique!) but I'll have to wait until I get back to the States to have my computer fixed - this means my first stop after landing in D.C. will indeed be the nearest  Apple Store.

So until then I'm using a laptop that the American Councils has kindly let me borrow. Not having my personal laptop is frustrating, especially because I use a special flash card program to study Persian vocabulary. On the plus side, I've learned all sorts of words relating to computer repair.

We haven't had power at night for the past few weeks - and there are several theories circulating on the matter:
1.) There has been less rain this spring, and the reservoirs are empty and dams are unable to produce power.
2.) Tajikistan preemptively sold electricity to Afghanistan in January, not expecting lower rainfall and empty reservoirs in the spring.
3.) There is plenty of electricity, but Tajikistan is just selling it all to Afghanistan.
4.) The Uzbek government has been complaining that Tajikistan is sabotaging the Uzbek cotton crop but limiting the water flow to Uzbekistan. Tajikistan is citing electricity shortages as proof that as much water is reaching Uzbekistan as possible.

Whew!

Besides the usual electricity shortages, life has been fairly mundane. On Sunday I'm making BBQ for my host family. I have been unable to find any cuts of meat resembling brisket or ribs here, so I purchased a slab of mystery meat that a Tajik gentleman assured me was beef. My host family's oven doesn't have any temperature settings besides '1', '2' or '3' so I'm going to scrounge up some foil, set the oven on '1' and hope for the best.

The weather here has been getting pleasantly warm - and I've gotta admit, my spirits have improved now that I'm not freezing. I'll update next week with something more interesting!

Child Rearing

Well it's time for my weekly update from Dushanbe. I haven't done anything terribly thrilling this week, as I've had midterm exams for the past 5 days. Considering I'm the only person in all of my classes, midterms were relatively relaxed. For example, for my Persian Literature class I read a short book about the History and Evolution of Persian Dictionaries (exciting, I know) and then gave a presentation to my teacher on the book. Not terribly exciting, but better than last semester's midterm paper. 

A few days ago I had the opportunity to go to the "Athletic University," where, from what I gathered, Tajiks study Sports Science. Most of the structures over there are is a state of disrepair, as the University was originally built by the Soviets (surprise surprise). Gabby was able to show us her gymnastics skills, and I was able to snap some photos of the gyms. It was a very interesting tour, as the most popular sports for youth in Tajikistan are Judo, Wrestling, and Soccer. 

Living with my host family is, as usual, awesome. Of course there are always awkward moments - especially when my siblings are disciplined. Fairuz and Shorukh often get into arguments about computer usage. They have a system worked out where each sibling gets a certain amount of time on the computer per day, but normally this devolves into typical familial arguments, including the wrestling that tend to occur between brothers. This week Shorukh managed to kick Fairuz in the nose (a pure accident). Fairuz wound up with a bruised nose, and I got to witness Muhabbat beat Shorukh (and Fairuz) with her purse and one of her slippers, while calling him  "animal" and "black." Honestly, it was pretty hilarious. The the atmosphere returned to normalcy about 10 minutes later, but Tajik methods of child rearing never cease to entertain me. For example, it's very common for young girls (around ages 0-5) to have very short hair, similar to mine. Tajiks believe that keeping their daughter's hair short in their developing years will lead to thicker, longer hair later on in life. One of many interesting traditions that I've grown to appreciate during my time here. 

A few days ago Muhabbat made Mantu (similar to dumplings) the other day, definitely one of the tastier dishes from Tajik cuisine. I don't think I'll ever understand Tajik butchering practices - for example, there's no uniform method of preparing chicken. They just take the whole bird and hack away away at it, bones and all. 

The most exciting event in recent memory was the arrival of my care package - my lovely family in the States sent over some much needed Smoked Chipotle Tabasco Sauce, BBQ Rub, and Peanut Butter.  As of now I'm very pleased with the progress I've made in my Persian studies, and will continue to keep you all updated on happenings in Dushanbe. 

Buzkashi

Well, I've officially witnessed one of the few spectator sports in this world that involves an animal carcass. Buzkashi is chaotic - there are very few rules, and the game is very simple. 

Buzkashi is played on horseback, in a large field - the dimensions of which are not standardized. The point of the game is to bring the buz, or goat, to a white flag planted at one end of the field. If you do so, you get a prize. The prizes get progressively bigger - and the game ends once all the prizes have been given away. There is no point system, and there are no teams. The winner is essentially the person who scores the last point, so someone can only score a point and come out a winner. The "final prize" is normally something like a car, or television set. And while there are no "teams" in Buzkashi, alliances are often made before the game. It's like a really dirty game of Risk.

Actually watching Buzkashi is a test of patience - sometimes players will spend up to 15 minutes in a massive clump, fighting over the goat carcass. And then suddenly one player will break away and go galloping off with the goat, only to form a new clump of horses in a different part of the field. The goat carcass is soaked in water overnight, which apparently keeps it from disintegrating too quickly. There are also few clear boundaries to the Buzkashi field - in one of the pictures you'll notice a herd of players running into spectators. Buzkashi. You watch it at your own risk. In the picture below you can see two men fighting over the goat carcass - and get a glimpse of the carcass itself. They're on the right-hand side of the picture. 

Besides my Buzkashi and Nowruz festivities life has been fairly quiet here in Dushanbe. I have midterm exams coming up, which will be interesting, considering I'm the only person in all of my classes. Regarding the living situation, I really do feel at home in my host family. Muhabbat has even started to allow me to do small chores - hanging my own laundry up (still won't let me wash my own clothes), and taking out the communal trash. Tajiks are very hospitable, and it took two weeks before Muhabbat even allowed me to help clear the table after meals.

Speaking of meals. I met my ultimate "Tajik Food Face-Off" a couple days ago. Dinner one night consisted of  vegetable oil, spaghetti noodles, slices of boiled chicken hot dogs, and a pickled oyster mushroom type thing mixed together and salted. I'll eat pretty much anything (if hungry enough), but this was definitely a challenge to scarf down. I'm never complaining about dinning hall food ever again. Ever. Somewhere between the Soviets and the 1993 Civil War Tajiks gave up on enjoying food. My care package (Smoked Chipotle Tobasco Sauce!) can't come soon enough.  

Home remedies for illnesses are another Tajik quirk I've come to appreciate. I got sunburned at the Buzkashi match (yes, Mom and Dad, I wore sunscreen) and my very concerned Bibi (Saodat) gave me some Russian-style sour cream to put on my nose. It didn't really help the burn, but hey, do as the natives do, right? 

Nowruz Part II

Well, Nowruz has passed. I had Monday off from school, and went to the Botanical Gardens with a bunch of friends to celebrate Nowruz and, simultaneously our friend Gabby's birthday. All of the females dressed up in traditional Tajik garb - the Kurta, or "the Tajik Mumu." The Kurta makes up for what it lacks in aesthetic appeal and figure-flattery with supreme comfort. It's like wearing pajamas, and the Kurta is especially awesome because it's socially acceptable to wear them on a daily basis. Imagine. Wearing pajamas. All day. In fact, most women don't even have to buy maternity clothes during their pregnancies - the Kurta is a 3-in-one deal - everyday wear, sleep wear, and maternity wear. 

For Nowruz some of my host family's relatives came to visit, and Muhhabat, being the good Tajik woman she is, spent most of the day in the kitchen. In fact, for dinner that night she made Qurutob, which is a traditional Tajik dish. Qurutob consists of fitayer (a type of bread) soaked in chakka (think liquid sour yogurt) and topped with fresh and cooked onions. Qurutob was a welcome break from the monotony of carrot-potato-mystery meat. Unfortunately Jalol ditched family dinner at the last minute to go over to a friends house. Hey, no one every said Tajik men were mature. In fact, they're all fairly arrogant and entitled (an insight my older male Tajik professors agree with! Ha!). I made sure to let Muhhabat know how much I appreciated her efforts. She was especially proud of a side "salad" she served with the Qurutob - basically, it was a strange gelatin terrine thing with meat and carrots. Imagine salty grey jello with chunks of meat floating around in it. Yuuuuum. 

One more highlight from Nowruz: After dinner, 6-year-old Shukrona was told to take the dishes back to the kitchen because "you're a girl, this is what girls are supposed to do." Hopefully Shukrona's destiny does not lie in the kitchen, but alas, this is Tajikistan. 

On Thursday I'm going to a Buzkashi match. Buzkashi is basically polo, but played with a goat carcass. I'll post a bunch of pictures and an entry about "goat-carcass-polo" by the end of the week. 

Chaharshanbe Suri

Well Monday March 21st is Nowruz - the Persian New Year. Nowruz celebrations in Tajikistan, involves lots of Osh, dancing, games, and brightly colored kurtas. 

In Iran the last Tuesday night of the old year is called Chaharshanbe Suri. It's a prelude to Nowruz. In Iran people make bonfires in the streets and jump over them saying 

"زردی من از تو، سرخی تو از من"

"zardi-ye man az to, sorkhi-ye to az man"

"my yellowness (sickliness) is yours, your redness (health) is mine"

Basically the fire is supposed to take away sickness and problems and give us warmth and energy. Chaharshanbe Suri dates back to the early Zoroastrian era, about 1700 BC. In the office we celebrated Chaharshanbe Suri on Friday, as it was raining Tuesday night and nearly impossible to build a fire. In Tajikistan Chaharshanbe Suri isn't celebrated by the general public, and the holiday really is specific to Iran. 

The office additionally had a Nowruz party this Friday. For Nowruz we set up a Haft Sin table. The Haft Sin table includes seven items which begin with the letter S or Sin (س). The items symbolically represent the coming of spring, rebirth, and good fortune for the coming year. I've included a picture of our office Haft Sin, and a description of the seven traditional items, below. 

1. Sabzeh – sprouts growing in a dish, which symbolize rebirth

2. Samanu – a pudding made from wheat germ, symbolizing affluence

3. Senjed – a sweet dried fruit which symbolizes love

4. Sir – garlic, symbolizing medicine and health

5. Sib – apples, symbolizing beauty and health

6. Somaq – ground sumac berries, which represent the color of the sunrise

7. Serkeh – vinegar, representing age and patience

In addition to our Haft Sin table we reenacted the coming of spring, with the lovely Gabby, dressed in a traditional kurta, playing the role of "the Queen of Spring" and Kramer filling the role of her "groom." Osh was cooked and eaten, dances were performed, and eggs were painted. Yes, think Zoroastrian Easter. 

I'll post another entry after actual Nowruz celebrations occur here - for now, I'm enjoying the warmer weather and sunshine. It's nice to be less dependent on a space heater for general comfort, and since it stopped snowing the power hasn't gone out nearly as much, and the internet seems a wee bit faster (trying to watch a video on Youtube is still unfortunately too difficult for the internet here). I'm even hoping that the arrival of spring introduces vegetables other than carrots into my host family's diet… rumor has it that radishes exist over here, and I might go to a bazaar to hunt some down in the next few weeks. Stay tuned. 

Marriage and Family

The Tajiki concept of marriage is far different from the concept we adhere to in the West. People marry young here - normally before they turn 22. Farzona, my peer tutor, is 21 and currently facing pressure from her parents to get married already. After marriage the bride goes to live with the groom and his family . Even into adulthood, children never live separately from their family, and support their parents as they age. A daughter-in-law are referred to as a "Killeen" in Tajik. 

A Kileen is expected to do all the cooking and housework for her husband's family. It's actually really depressing - they're essentially slave laborers. Once a woman is married she's bound to a life of child-rearing and housework. If a woman manages to finish University without getting married and secures a job before marriage she is less likely to be bound to the home, but the "ideal" Tajik woman belongs at home. 

Arranged marriages are very common within the older generation (and by older I mean 30 years +). In fact, it's perfectly acceptable for family members - usually cousins - to marry. My host sister-in law, Muhabbat, and my host brother, Jalol, are cousins. I actually asked my host sister-in-law how she "met" Jalol and she explained that she knew from a very young age that she was promised to Jalol, although she had never met him. Apparently they didn't meet until their wedding. I'm fairly impressed that two complete strangers can marry and create a fairly healthy and functional family environment. 

Muhabbat wasn't able to finish University before having her first child. She manages the house, cooks, cleans, et cetera. Unlike American households, her children and husband are not expected to assist with household chores - even when I offer to help out, I'm rebuked with a kind "no", and an explanation that "this is my work."

After Nowruz (think Persian Christmas) I'll discuss the plight of women in Tajikistan more. For now, I'm simply very thankful to be born in America. I'd be a terrible Kileen. 

Heavy Industry

So I know I said I would write up a post about Marriage and Love in Tajik Culture, but I just got back from an American Councils-sponsored trip to the Aluminum Factory, so I figured I'd seize the opportunity to discuss Tajikistan's main export. 

Most income in Tajikistan comes from aluminum exports - the percentage the tour guide thew around was about 60%. The ore they refine at the Talco Aluminum Factory doesn't actually come from Tajikistan, and the factory itself was built by the Soviets in the 1970s, and hasn't been updated since. 

The actual factory is pretty cool - molted metal being poured everywhere, furnaces melting down ore and whatnot. I certainly got a sense of what "heavy industry" looks like in the developing world. Because the Talco factory uses outdated equipment, they aren't able to make large amount of aluminum, but our Tajik guide claims that Tajik aluminum is of a very high quality. The plant operates 24/7, and is located about an hour and a half outside of Dushanbe. 

After touring the Talco plant we stopped by a "Rice Factory" - basically where the husk of Tajik rice is removed before consumption. Unlike the Talco factory, which was massive, the rice factory was in a small garage-type structure. The factory's "machinery" consisted of a wooden beam that pounded the rice via a motor. Definitely cool to see the difference between Talco, a Soviet-built factory, and local Tajik styles of production.  

Infrastructure

Well, it's time for another update from glamorous Dushanbe. I know talking about the weather *seems* boring, but when the weather dictates your quality of life, it becomes an interesting and pressing topic of conversation.

The Russians built most of the infrastructure in Tajikistan - and, until Tajikistan's independence, Russian engineers and professionals maintained all of the infrastructure here. The current president/dictator and his puppet government, unlike the Russians, have done nothing to keep basic utilities in Tajikistan.

The water never shuts off for too long in Dushanbe, mostly because Dushanbe is where the "president" lives. Sometimes the water is white/cloudy, or brown. Apparently after the civil war the international community donated $30 million to build a modern water treatment system… someone in Tajikistan absconded with the entire $30 million. 

So during the winter power normally shuts off at least once a day. Most homes here don't have central heating, so we rely on space heaters for heat. No power = no space heater. It gets very cold very quickly. Obviously my host family is lucky - we never lose power for longer than 4 hours. In the countryside people normally have about 4 hours of power per day - it's pretty common for impoverished Tajikis to freeze to death during the winter. Yep, the weather is that important. 

Roads and sidewalks (the few that exist) are riddled with potholes/puddles/trenches and the like - which makes running pretty interesting. Below I've included a picture of some sort of drainage/ditch thing. The city streets are lined with them. Sometimes there are bridges over them. Sometimes there aren't, which means I run very very carefully. 

My next post will discuss marriage and relationships in Tajiki culture - and the difference between the older and younger generation's concepts of love. 

Tajiki "Cuisine"

So Tajik food. Let's talk about it. Tajik food was described to me as "bland" and "oily" by several people before the trip. A warning that I didn't heed very seriously - after all, Arabs manage to make absolutely delicious food with what they have. Tajiks can do the same, right?

Let's take a look at the national dish of Tajikistan, (pictured above). Osh is… oily. And it isn't exactly flavorful. It's basically rice, carrots, and potatoes in oil and topped with mystery meat. Tajiks don't butcher animals (i.e. by body part, type of muscle, usage) the way we do in the U.S. They basically kind of hack away at a carcass until the meat is in smallish pieces. I mean, I'm all about using the whole animal. I just like to know what kind of animal, and what  part of the animal I'm eating. 

In any case, Tajik food seems to be designed to stretch meat by using rice, carrots, potatoes, lentils, and onions. Essentially you're getting a 2 ounce portion of mystery meat (where did this cartilage come from? Neckbone? Lamb? Beef? Shank? Rib? Wha?) and then lentil/rice/potato filler. I mean, we're certainly not going hungry. It just means that most Americans have their families send over Tabasco Sauce from the States. Below you'll find photos of typical Tajik dinners - note the presence of carrot, potato, meat. 

P.S. Yes I know you're not reading this blog to hear me complain about Tajiki food - I'll  update with more interesting content in the near future. 

The Fam in the 'Stan

I love my host family. I don't have pictures of all the members of my host family yet - Tajikis generally change into "house clothes" when they return from work or school, mainly to preserve their clothing. Basically, it's difficult to catch my host family members in normal clothing as opposed to PJs.

So this is Shukrona. She is my host granddaughter/sister/niece (the daughter of my host brother's wife) and very energetic. We've bonded over Hannah Montana (pronounced Khhhanna Muntana) and tic tac toe. We've even had decent rounds of hang-man, although I'm handicapped because I'm just starting to learn Tajik Cyrillic. She's pretty fond of pickles. 

Saodat, my host mother and the grandmother/matron of our household. She helps her daughter-in-law with household chores, plays Sudoku, prays 5 times a day, and keeps her grandchildren in line. 

One of my host brothers/nephews/family members Fairouz is pictured above, along with our Korean neighbor, Dimitri. My host brothers (Shorukh and Fairouz) love Age of Empires. Love it. In fact, we don't converse much because they're glued to the computer. The computer does not connect to the internet - but I swear, all it's used for is Age of Empires and Solitare. Mostly Age of Empires, although Saodat seems very fond of Solitaire. The host brothers remind me of my own blood brothers - Nick and Lance - except in America we trade the PC and AoE for an xBox and Halo. 

Muhabbat, my host sister/wife-of-my-host-brother is wonderful. She cooks, and launches into long Tajik diatribes when we converse. I may not understand half of what she says, but we had a very interesting conversation about Tajiki standard of beauty (unibrow) and watched what I interpreted to be "Tajikistan's Next Top Model" together. I don't see her husband, Jalol, very much, except at dinner and breakfast. Jalol works at a bank (not sure which one). 

I think the reason I love this host family so much is because the dynamics are similar to my own American family.  I have three younger host siblings, two of them are brothers and the youngest is a very charismatic sister. They don't speak any English, which is great for my Persian/Tajik. I've included some photos of the street I live on and the courtyard of my home below.

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Dushanbe

So, I'm here.

This post will be kept fairly short - it's purpose is to ensure friends and family (mostly family) of my well-being. I actually have quite a lot to say about life in Dushanbe, but I want a chance to take and post some pictures before I launch into a long blog post.

Dushanbe is very ... post-U.S.S.R. Much of the infrastructure here was built by the Russians, and most if not all signs are entirely in Cyrillic. It's currently snowing, which makes the ridiculously (awesome) Mongol-boots I purchased back in the States very useful.

I'm going to dedicate a post (with pictures) entirely to my host family, but for now just know that they're fantastic, and don't speak any English. We have a toilet (score!) and occasional hot water.

Pictures are in the works - be sure to check back in a few days.

Istanbul

Well, I thought I would take advantage of the free WiFi here in Istanbul to give you an update on the trip to Dushanbe thus far.

I flew out from D.C. on the evening of February 1st - I'll arrive in "the 'Stan" early in the morning of February 3rd. I essentially go through customs and then immediately meet my host family.

Highlights of the journey thus far include:
- Gruff and unsmiling German flight attendants unsuccessfully trying to get airplane passengers to fasten their seat belts.
- Ambivalent Turkish flight attendants not really caring whether seat belts were buckled, tray tables were up, or electronics turned off.
- Bored Turkish police officers reading books while guarding passport control centers.
- Scarily plastic surgery-ed  European women. Collagen has never seemed so terrifying.
- Unlimited free samples of Turkish Delight in Istanbul Duty Free Shops. It's Hazer Baba brand - pretty generic. But it's free.
- Knitting - on the plane, during layovers. I'm getting fairly good at it, and will most likely end up knitting one of my host siblings something over the course of my stay in Tajikistan.
- Europeans don't believe in water fountains. I had to pay 3 Euro for a bottle of water.

Concerns thus far include:
- Learning the Cyrillic alphabet. While Farsi uses, for the most part, the Arabic alphabet, the Tajik dialect uses Cyrillic and borrows words from Russian. I've managed to avoid learning a third alphabet - but I'll have to buck up and figure out Cyrillic.
- Meeting the host family. It's gonna be awkward. I'll be jet lagged, and we speak different dialects of Persian. Communication will be rough at first, so I'm bracing myself for the first week of life with my host family.

Worries aside, I'm thrilled. The "holy-crap-I'm going-to-Tajikistan" adrenalin rush has finally hit, and I'm ready to land in Dushanbe and get my "boots on the ground."

Program Information

This post aims to answer several questions that I seem to get asked quite a bit, and provide some information about Tajikistan.

Where is Tajikistan?
What? A map?

Why are you going there?

My goal is to become fluent in Tajik Persian. I'll be in Dushanbe, Tajikistan from February 1st 2011 until late May or early June of 2011. I'm taking 15 credits of Tajik Persian, which will transfer back to the University of Virginia and count towards my degree in Middle Eastern Languages and Literatures. I'll be staying with a host family while in Dushanbe - my host mother's name is Saodat Safoeva. Saodat is a housewife and helps raise her son, Jalol's, family. Jalol works at a bank and his wife Muhabbat, stays home and takes care of the house. Jalol and Muhabbat have 3 children, my host siblings: Shohrukh, a 13 year old boy, Firuz a 12 year old boy and Shukrona, a 6 year old girl.

What's it like?

That's the lovely thing about Central Asia. I've never been. Unlike the Middle East, I get to view Central Asia with fresh eyes. It's exciting. 

Where are you now?

In Virginia. I took a "January Term" class after Christmas, and since the class is now finished I'm simply preparing to depart, waiting tables, and sleeping on a friend's floor.

I'll hopefully write one more post before my flight leaves (February 1st! A week away!).  Until then, be patient with my rambling, and feel free to comment as desired. 

- Em 

Introduction

I dislike the idea of blogging. Not because I dislike writing per say, but because I often feel like I have nothing terribly interesting to contribute to the already bloated blogosphere.

This blog's name is derived from a scene in the movie "Team America World Police," in which the only phrase uttered by Arab characters is "derka derka Mohammad jihad." The name is meant to represent the misconceptions and miscommunication the often occurs when studying abroad.

I'll update in the near future with information about the program, my host family, and travel logistics. And yes, I'll actually update.

- Em