Photos from Around Town

I could comment on these images. But for the most part I’d like to believe they can speak for themselves. However if context is needed please do direct all questions to the comment box so I can address them later. 

I'd like to buy a product you say doesn't exist...

I'd like to buy a product you say doesn't exist... This feeling is rather familiar for any tech geek who's recently been to Fry's or a market in Bishkek. The salesperson will try to simultaneously try to sell you something else while informing you - no no this product doesn't exist. If you keep insisting they will reluctantly agree - yes in fact it does, but I don't have it. If you keep talking, somehow it magically comes to be and you end up buying exactly what you wanted. It works everytime. At Fry's it usually means it is one aisle over. In Bishkek one display case to the side. Occasionally they will in fact not have the product you want, but one stall over the competing vendor will.

Once you've found the product which 30 seconds ago did not exist, you will be offered a price. Resist the urge to convert the price into dollars and quickly accept! Whatever the price is - waiting for a few seconds, shaking your head for a moment and then paying will lead to saving roughly 10%. And even then you're not getting the local price. This was made evident when one of the girls in the office mentioned buying a USB cable for 100 com (a little over $2) and then the next day having the vendor say the true cost was only 50 com. Today when we went to buy identical cables we knew to start with 50 com, and of course only paid 40 com. (For those of you trying to convert to western prices $1 = roughly 46 com)

Sadly the act of bartering the price down doesn't work as well at Fry's as it does in Bishkek - but the service and the denial of the existence of the product you want to buy is a common trait it seems. And like geeks everywhere, I thankfully know this and am persistent enough to walk away with the cables I need.

A Blog on Blogging

I get the purpose of blogs – saying something to a wider audience and all that jazz – but these days while I’m simultaneously blogging here, on my photoblog, through video diaries for work, on our company blog, and occasionally through my old blogs (I seem to go through blogs in the same manner one goes through bars of soap – regularly and without much regard to them once I’m done.) I seem to have no clue what exactly I’m meant to be communicating.

Oh god my life is so interesting!

Maybe? Probably not. I’m sure other folks have much more interesting lives. Mine just happens to occasionally change location and those occasions seem a bit more frequent than some. (Though apparently not right now as for some reason I’m still in Bishkek without a clear departure date as I wait for my Kazakh visa extension to come through)

My photos are amazing!

Not really for that one either. Joy of the internet is you can find out just how many more brilliant people there are in the world – even if they aren’t in the same café, bookshop, restaurant or other common spaces with you. I might keep taking photos as a force of habit, and I like my photos in that selfish way that most people do like things they make, but they’re really not impressive enough to merit the “OMG! Look over here!” that is present in so much of shamelessly self promoting webwhorishness. (Proof this blog post is written for my blog and not work – that word would not be acceptable for school children, some of which may in fact read our blog)

My perspective is unique or my actions are interesting!

Once again, in the world wide web of human interactions – not really. In my immediate bubbles, I tend to stick out. But in my immediate bubbles that’s easy to do. Los Altos isn’t that big of a town. Santa Barbara is also a pretty small city. And after that I seem to have ended up in a pretty small company on a pretty big globe. In the grand scheme of things, I’m really not doing much.

My work today was in vain due to an internet café accidently terminating my internet connection 80% of the way in to an upload for a video that took far too long to make given its 1 minute length. And after an hour twenty – 80% was done and then made useless. Followed by returning to the office to log footage, run out of space on a hard drive, discover the disks for our external harddrive seem to be missing, wait on some emails, and attempt to edit footage only to discover it wouldn’t save properly due to the memory problem which can’t be resolved till we find the disks for the harddrives. All in all – I achieved very little. And yet here I am. And somehow when I left home everyone was patting my back and excited for all the things I would do on the road… like data management. Data producing is a thing I’m consistently good at whether through filming and photographing random items, events, happenings etc… but managing that data… oh boy. As anyone who was in my photos shot from 2007 to 2009 can attest – a two year delay in processing can and will occur. (Dear subjects of 365 Faces of the Year – SORRY!!!) On that note, I should probably go to bed soon. I have a long day of random errands (Today’s examples: Film a ride in a rickshaw through a Central Asian city and then paint a pipe black), data management (log said footage, edit into manageable videologs in FinalCut Pro), and other miscellaneous tasks (E-mail the director’s press card scans to Turkish officials to get permission to film, make some tea, call the web designer…)

All in all life continues on what seems like a standard for life living out of an office – scheduled entirely around work. There are definitely cons to having a bedroom across the hall from the main room of the office. Not sure how much longer I’ll be puttering around Bishkek (sometimes literally in the auto-rickshaw, most of the time just doing odds and ends in the office/around town) as there are some logistics holding us back – but I’m hoping we’ll be on the road sooner rather than later as I imagine fall and winter will only slow things down more. And outside of California they seem to have these weird things called seasons. Bizarre I tell you! 

Observations from an Internet Cafe

40% of my YouTube download for TracingTea is done... which means I've got plenty of time waiting here in the Internet cafe on Moscow Street* in Bishkek.

Things I've discovered while waiting.

• American pop music is near universal. Imagine your local top 40 clear channel station at home and the songs it had played to death 6 months ago. That's what's on the radio.
• Google.ru will suggest you change to the version for Google Netherlands before suggesting English.
• Despite being a block away from a mosque where all the women are wearing head scarves and full sleeves - all the girls here in the internet cafe are wearing standard Russian attire (read: showing off their legs, short sleeves, and wearing large diva-esque sunglasses on their heads)
• Duran Duran's Come Undone is perfectly acceptable on the same station as Alejandro and Te Amo.
• Control Shift is the short key to change from typing in Russian to typing in English
• Signs telling you the rules don't work if you're an American and the sign is in Russian... The size 72 font is far less intimidating when I can't read it...
• The Nescafe juice is far less enjoyable than the local apple juice that was in the same case. I can't read the details on the bottle - but pictures of apples on the side helped.
• I hate waiting. 53% loaded now but I'm still waiting on the other 47%. This is why photos > video. It takes less time to take it, less time to edit, less time to upload it, less time to look at it, and at the end you can print and frame it.
• Small children who are younger than 2 are much more interesting than those who are older. If they can't talk, they make funny faces that are much more universal than what could be Russian/Kyrgyz/ or gibberish without me knowing the difference. Also it seems there are many more children here and people are more likely to take their kids out with them than if they were in the States.

I'm bored of writing. Off to Google News to catch up on world affairs while I'm waiting.

*Slight variation if we want to be accurate, but oh well. If you googled this and Gogol Street you'd be within a block of me. I just don't know the other cross road and I don't want to slow the download in the other window by googling it.

A Visit to the Market

Today I got a chance to see where the Kyrgyz do some of their shopping as we went to the market place. A few things I was surprised to see...  The US Army gear... our tax dollars hard at work, being resold by Kyrgyz merchants. Hearing Lady Gaga, Rihanna and Jay-Z in various stalls. Our pop music is everywhere! And the number of Kyrgyz men who upon seeing me with my camera would say the only English they knew, "I LOVE YOU!" Oh dear. They should be prepared to be heartbroken if all it takes is a tourist to attract their attention! 

In my touristy-ness I also broke gender norms by purchasing a hat that is traditionally worn by me, for myself. It was much cooler than what I think of the women's scarves and headpieces so yeah- doing what I do and buying what I liked = gender bending out here. Also bought a canvas backpack for about $7 which I can use when I'm not carrying my computer as my other backpack is electronics central. Together the hat, a postcard and a backpack cost about $9. Very cheap. 

One lady upon seeing me with my camera became very animated and I thought she was angry at me for taking a photo of her stall - and I prepared myself for the worst (being asked to delete the photo) but as Aigul translated, it turns out she was excited that I was taking an interest and she wanted to know where I was from and what I was doing in Bishkek. Then she asked that I take a proper photo of her, which I did. And I quite like it I must say - but I'm not going to post it now as the internet is on the company MacBook and the photos are on my Acer which currently has a dead battery and needs to be charged. But look forward to future posts with photos from the bustling market place.

In an effort to not be redundant...

I don't want to say the same things here as are said and published in the work blog.

But I am posting there as well. In fact today you can see photos of the work we did this afternoon.

I don't know if it's the jet lag, the irregular sleep hours or the odd feeling of waiting that is making me tired - but I am rather tired. Like a caffeine addict having withdraws - except without the addict and withdraws part. And without the caffeine.

I suppose it's partially because I'm not used to not choosing my own schedules. Even with school and work in the past - I got to chose at the beginning of the quarter, when will I be available for work, and when will I fall off the face of the earth. But here because I'm staying in the flat with the office, I'm not exploring on my own due to the language barrier and I'm doing work when it is asked of me - thus I'm no longer choosing my hours. Furthermore because after work I blog for work, organize photos, tweet, edit footage and images etc... it seems the line between working and not is blurred. Whereas at home - when I'm doing work it's clear that I'm working and when I'm at home or out with friends that's clearly my time.

I suppose I should adjust to this sooner rather than later as once we hit the road it will likely be like this only more so.

Though I think the other thing I find odd is not having my car. The lack of self-mobility while being prepared to be on the move makes it very different than when I have the full freedom of movement and the confidence to explore or at least visit my favorite places. Not trying to complain here - just trying to identify where my head is at, and right now it's that sort of odd stagnant feeling. Also wish there was a gym or something around here as even when I'm doing physical activity (carrying equipment, coming and going to the flat on the 4th floor etc..) it's spread through the day and I'd love to be able to do a long work out to exhaust myself to insure I could fall asleep at a normal time. But instead when the night comes I feel stir crazy and am typing away or working on project pieces I couldn't get to during the day.

Oh well. On that stir crazy note, I'm off to bed. If you want to see photos - they're not too impressive but they're up on the TracingTea blog.

Sleepless in Bishkek

Somehow sleepless in Bishkek sounds far less interesting than Sleepless in Seattle, but there you have it. It's nearing 5 am here and I'm awake and feeling restless. I'm sure I'll be exhausted again later, but somehow despite a week out here I've yet to adjust to the local time zone. Or at least I've yet to sleep a proper night's sleep in one go, or without aggressively attacking mosquitoes distracting me from the task of sleep.



I tried to see if I could get some sort of sleep aid to help cope with the jet lag and have found such things are lacking. I was tossing and turning so a few minutes ago decided to just stop the tossing and turning and get up, and upon doing so discovered Rosie was on the computer in the same boat. And apparently the thought of Sleepless in Seattle also occurred to her, so after finishing this first paragraph we laughed at the likemindedness (or cliché-ness perhaps ) of our early morning Bishkek thoughts. Obviously I lack originality at this hour especially - so shall therefore reapply mosquito repellant and try to sleep a bit more before the sun rises and the call to prayer tells me I should be more religious or at least more alert.

Standing in Sandals

Walking around Bishkek today nothing really came to mind. It just was. Another place in the world operating on its normal pace. Different people on the posters. Different politicians being sold to the people. Different language being spoken. Different food on the plates. Different currency in my pocket - but the daily rhythm was so evident it felt nothing but normal. The way it feels to walk through a neighborhood you know, to swing by your favorite coffee shop - that sort of nonchalance I feel when I'm going through a place I know and it seems everyone else is too. I didn't personally feel like that- the language barrier makes it a little hard for me to -but it was the vibe I was getting from everyone else. I might be the odd tourist interrupting the status quo by taking photos of the markets and being the unusual foreigner in their midst - but something about the daily routine was palpable. 

Too often when traveling it seems the foreigners don't actually see the place they're meant to be seeing. We see sights, monuments, the predictable photo ops and so forth, but we don't see the place for what it is to those who live in it. I don't think I've seen that side of Bishkek yet. I doubt I will given that at some point I'm going to have to dash out to Kazakhstan to pick up a car for work - and these things take time to see. But at least I am aware I'm not seeing it all? 

It took me a long time to find my niche in Santa Barbara. It took me a while to feel the comfortable familiarity and feel like I could give a recommendation as to where to eat or what to see. And I feel like even then whether there or at home in the Bay Area - I feel like I can't give those recommendations. I know where I like to hang out, where I like to go, but it strikes me as odd to think of traveling and finding the right places to see to make a place reveal itself when I don't even know if I know those places at home. 

I wonder if someone else was standing in my sandals they'd feel the same. Or how very different they'd see the same sights. I was reading my coworker's blog and it struck me how poetic her reflections were - and seeing the same sights I saw no poetry. There's no hint of nostalgia for me in the scents of the streets.   This place reminds me of India - without the Indians, without the crowds, without the scent of sandal wood and the noise of people. It feels quiet. It's not some place lost in the past though - there's still net cafes and children growing up, couples getting married in Victory Square, life being lived. But it still feels like life on the edge. Somewhere in the vast part of the planet without the superpower mentality, where the recycling bug hasn't hit, where the trash is still burnt, where the people are hospitable and the pace of life is less frantic. 

It's also a place where it seems saunas are expected to have prostitutes, corruption is normal within politics, the kids play with mock AK-47s in addition to their stuffed toys, and the Americans and Russians have their military bases and their power can be felt in ways big and small. The super market had boxing gloves with the stars and stripes on them in the toy section. The good quality goods are from Turkey and the poor quality is brought from China. And I'm an oddball American in the midst of it. 

Perhaps it is good that my reflections tend to be more regurgitation in visual form - photos rather than words. For regardless of the number of posts I seem to have churned out I feel like I haven't had any meaningful reflection nor have I had a genuine enough opening into the Kyrgyz lifestyle enough to be making those reflections/judgements/etc...  I've just been in the midst of them as they live their lives and wondering what I'm doing with mine. 

Day of Rest

Today is the first official rest day since I arrived. As such I have had an incredibly exciting day... resting actually. I woke up with the call to prayer, thanked god that I could sleep in, rolled over and went back to bed. And then proceeded to sleep some more. Periodically I would wake up, say to myself, 'Why bother?' and return to sleeping. I guess the degree of jet lag and the mosquito attacks at night have been taking their toll on me as I was able to fall asleep again and again even when the sun had risen and the traffic on the streets of Bishkek peppered the air with the sound of horns.

If Bishkek had a few million people more, it might feel like India - but it's surprisingly quiet for a capital city. Not sure what my plans will be for the rest of this day of rest - but I hope to go out exploring or at least see some of the city beyond the few block radius of the flat. Right now there is a car driving past trying to disprove my theory that Bishkek has been rather quiet by blasting its horn as it goes past - and it's interesting how clearly the doppler effect can be noticed. Anyways - if you're in or around Bishkek with recommendations let me know - otherwise I'll likely continue my day with a trip to Ala Too Square or an internet cafe or something of that nature.

World War II - The Great War - Wartime Medals and Me? Just Watching.

World War II. The Great War. THE War. It is one of those things that lingers in the mind not just because of the scale, but also because of the landscape of the last few months. One simply cannot cross Europe via road without being struck by the way each country was impacted by the war. Whether the lingering burns on the buildings of Dresden, the holes in brick walls of concentration camps marking the planned atrocities and people lost to hate, or the epic sculptures trying to make sure we never forget - the war is still so very present. 

But today was a different sort of feeling as I went to the garage at Dasmia to repaint part of one of the rickshaws and saw a political party (literally - a politician hosting a party....) filled with military men wearing their medals. When I asked one of the girls who'd be sent to take us to the garage about it, she replied the medals were most likely from the Great War or the war in Afghanistan. These men have aged well - standing with strong posture and the sort of dignity that says I'm proud to be in this uniform. And almost all the men there, whether in army green uniforms or suits had chests full with ribbons and medals. I don't even know what to think, but it certainly makes one think. Especially with American troops still in Afghanistan and having only recently have been in Europe it seems the war's physical presence has yet to vanish from living memory. The sterilized list of facts from history texts seems inadequate to describe the contrasts between the black and white text and the proud men of different nations each carrying their own memories of what the war was for and what it meant. 

I didn't actually get to talk to the men, I continued with my task of painting an auto-rickshaw, but as I heard classical music coming through the clear air my thoughts lingered on the guests on the other side of the garage. I wonder what they would think of an American or a Brit in their midst. Driving home and going past Victory Square - the World War II monument in Bishkek where many weddings happen in the presence of the eternal flame- it struck me how deep the connection is. So deep that it's normal for couples to go on their wedding day to remember the war and the national identity they protected as a soviet state. I don't think that would ever happen in the US. The World War II memorial is stoic and the gray stone is somber and asks for stately respect, rather than focusing on personal sacrifice as the statues at Victory Square do. Anyways, just food for thought, I don't know enough to have a real opinion on the matter yet, but I do hope to learn more while I'm here.  

Random Photos from Bishkek

My New Career Back-up Plan: Drive an Auto-Rickshaw

It’s been a long day here in Bishkek.

I’d say I woke up early, but that would imply I went to sleep at a reasonable hour and it was the wake up time that was problematic. Instead I didn’t fall asleep till past 6:30 am due to problems with mosquitoes being too fold of me for my liking. Thus at 10 am when the crew was beginning work in the office (which is in the same flat I’m staying in) I was exhausted and spacey.

After some work round the office we went out to the garage where the auto-rickshaw is being stored only to be told the key wasn’t there. So while Max and Sophie went to run errands Rosie and I painted stakes with numbers which we’ll later use to mark shots before a Kok Boru match (goat polo for those unfamiliar with the Kyrgyz game – I’ll admit I know only little more about it… ) Eventually the man in charge of the garage returned with the keys and we were able to open it up and I got to see our rickshaw for the first time. Radegund as it is apparently known… Norse for “chariots of fire” our producer later informed me. I’m not quite on that level of familiarity with the rickshaw to be calling it by it’s name – and Radegund doesn’t roll off the tongue that easily, so I’ll stick to rickshaw for now.

When Sophie and Max arrived back bringing with them counter weights for the crane I got a pseudo work out aiding them in unpacking them. But following that came the real adventure: driving lessons. While I have both my car and motorcycle licenses- an auto-rickshaw is uniquely different. With three wheels the balance is quite different, and the challenge of steering to avoid potholes is a bit more complicated than when in either a car or on a bike. To begin release the hand break and press with the left hand the starter button (the intimidating lever to the left that acts as the starter in most auto-rickshaw has been replaced by a much simpler automatic starter) while you rev the engine with the throttle on the right. The clutch and gears are controlled by the left hand, but the gears are rather sticky and the clutch is a bit jumpy which combined with the engine (think lawn mower status) sound of tuktuktuktuk makes you very aware of the road as there is a cadence accompanying the journey.

Due to the fact that I own and drive an automatic car at home and haven’t been on my motorcycle in a while (whoops for breaking my foot – that was a bad call) the clutch coordination was a little less than ideal. But the bigger worry for me was going out of the parking lot and instantly being on the streets of Bishkek. I’ve never driven in Bishkek before and I’m sure navigating would have been stressful even in my own car, but in a first time drive in an auto-rickshaw with the locals laughing, waving, taking photos and even children and dogs occasionally chasing us as I drove along…. this was definitely a new experience. Luckily for me the Kyrgyz habit of not following specific lanes and just driving where there is space makes it very easy to drive with the flow of traffic. The small size of the rickshaw combined with people being curious and slowing down around me allowed me a greater maneuverability than in a car – which proved quite advantageous.

As an added bonus, when returning I realized – I just navigated through the center of town on main roads filled with traffic, pedestrians, minibuses and cabs in the capital of Kyrgyzstan. So while I might be a little nervous about the traffic here, that is normal. Any city would do that to a first time driver in an unfamiliar vehicle. And once we set out we’ll have open roads ahead of us without the bustle of city traffic at every corner. And once we’re in gear, puttering along at speed (no clue what speed, the speedometer is broken/unplugged) it’s actually quite fun. Maybe this is just due to the novelty value of driving a red auto-rickshaw in a foreign country where they’re unaccustomed to seeing one, and maybe this is due to the actual joy of driving it – but regardless the road ahead will continue to be foreign and the nerves will wear off – and now that I’ve actually driven it, I’m looking forward to driving this rickshaw to England with the crew.

Dear Mosquitoes - please bugger off

It's near 5:20 am in Bishkek and I can't sleep. I'm exhausted and have been trying to get rest for the past few hours but I keep having mosquitoes land on me, either be about to bite (at which point I roll over to swat them) or they actually bite (at which point a fierce itchy begins and I must use all my discipline to not scratch).

The cold that initially greeted me upon my arrival here has lifted, and given that I do not want to invite further mosquitoes into the flat by opening window that lack screens, I find the air retains much of the warmth from the day. This would be rather pleasant if I wasn't wearing long pants, a long sleeved shirt and socks in my effort to cover as much skin as possible to avoid them. Even those efforts however are somewhat in vain, these mosquitoes are large and persistent and not to be discouraged by things like a mere layer of fabric or mosquito repellent. I think they welcome the challenge. I've gotten bites between my toes, on my fingers, on my face and anytime I roll up my sleeves I find their marks greeting me. As such a thick blanket is welcome as it provides enough of a barrier that I don't get bitten. It also is really warm. And as someone who usually craves feeling the cool side of the pillow, this is rather counterproductive to the other current aim of sleep. I've yet to figure out an effective balance.

Prior to tonight I was at a hotel two blocks away which magically had no mosquitoes and also because their window faced away from the mosque, the complimentary 5:30 am wake up call could be avoided. It seems out of the crew I am the favorite for the mosquitoes as they flock to bite me while they merely buzz around the others lazily. Not sure why but I'm not flattered by their attention. It is most unwelcome. Anyways, I'm going to try to sleep a little bit before the flat gets filled by the rest of the team beginning work in a few hours. Luckily during the day the mosquitoes seem a little less active than during their night time raids, so perhaps I can try napping then?

By the way - the score of Mosquitoes Urvi Has Killed versus Bites Urvi has Received started at 3:7 when I began this post. The score is now 6:7. I'm catching up. If you try to bite my face, I will kill you. I am not above smacking myself in the face to avoid scratching my face off later. Just saying.

You should keep a blog

So you're going to WHERE? For how long? Wow. You should keep a blog.

I don't know how many times in the last month I've had that conversation. I lost count. And for the most part my mode of thinking fell along the lines of, "Why bother?" It's not that I didn't want to share about my travels or I don't think my life is interesting, Lord knows I'm far too full of myself to not like my life. It's more a matter of thanks to multimedia projects - I feel like my life is slowly going from being a thing I experience to synergy in communicating said activities and stories to becoming a flood of spam no one wants to hear. The overkill of the internet. I have facebook (check my status messages!). I have my photoblog (updated daily with fine art photos!). I have a twitter (TheUrv is being eaten alive by mosquitoes in Bishkek). I'm posting on the TracingTea website (I have a job!). I'm LinkedIn and am losing track of MySpace but bit.ly keeps things neat and tidy as I share things in fewer characters while losing a sense of character while I become a caricature. And for a handful of individuals I write lengthy emails while for the vast majority I fall off the face of the planet as they know it by going to a country they've never heard of/can't pronounce.

And yet - I left last week on Friday, and by Wednesday night I'm realizing... I should keep a blog. Emails while more fulfilling are demanding to the recipient. When I have internet to go to in the evenings I get excited to talk to folks thousands of miles away only to discover their lunch breaks aren't long enough to have a full conversation and while I'm at the end of the work day with stories to share, they need to return to work, to class, to daily life and the work of living. And suddenly my excitement is stunted. I stop in my tracks like a 3 year-old tugging his mother's dress saying "Mommy Mommy Mommy!" and being so excited to share something new that by the time I get someone's attention to ask in a curt, "WHAT?!" I've forgotten what I wanted to share. I'm a stereotypical tourist lost beyond the language barrier and rediscovering the joy and fear of uncertainty and in the cliche way that travelers do when abroad, I just want someone who speaks my language to share the experience with. And I suppose if I keep a blog, I'll get to do that with anyone who wants to share this journey with me.

So.... here we go. The basics. The who, what, where, when, why and wtf of my observations.
Who: Myself. 23 year old recent graduate. Identity to be determined.

What: Traveling with a documentary film crew called Tracing Tea (www.tracingtea.com or www.twitter.com/TracingTea) from Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan to London.

Where: Currently Bishkek, the capital of Kyrgyzstan located in the heart of Central Asia - a blackhole on the map where Americans can't navigate. That undetermined land between the Russians and Cold War fears, the Middle East and exploding religious fears, the Gulf and overpriced oil fears, India/Pakistan and the nuke holding nations feuding fears, and China and the fears of changing economic relations... Actually a lot of those fears can be relocated - expanding economies, religions Americans don't get and histories beyond our public school understanding because sound bites are more catchy than understanding. But regardless - in the middle of all these places that tend to be presented as scary others, is a land where the average person has no understanding of. And right now I'm in the center of it. When I told one family friend I was off to Kyrgyzstan he later asked when I was leaving for Crazystan. Probably an apt description of where most people think I am.

When: Now. Last Friday till now. I shall be here until I take a vacation to go to an Indian wedding in Texas (another foreign scary land for Californians) and then will return to Georgia (the country) in October. But I'll be doing this for at least 5 months. Or so the schedule says.

Why: I'm young? I'm foolish? I'm footloose and fancy free? It's a job in film and I'm a Film and Media Studies Major? I don't know. Somehow I volunteered to drive a Land Rover from London to Moscow with a trailer of equipment for a friend I'd met once randomly and this seemed like a great idea for everyone, so they flew me out and paid for my food and lodging while I trucked across a continent. Somehow after a day getting lost in a thunderstorm in the Ukraine where I couldn't speak the language, read the signs and somehow had to play charades to get some men to fix the trailer when it broke down after 8 hours being lost - it seemed like a wonderful idea to accept the job offer in my inbox which extended the insane travel schedule. Honestly it seems like an amazing crash course in cultures, geography, how to work on an ever changing schedule, work hands on with expensive film equipment and get the sort of well rounded education that school didn't provide me with yet. So here I am.

As for the WTF moments, those will be posted as they come. For now, it is late, I am tired and there's more work tomorrow. So until then, I hope you're well and that if you're reading this you comment, email, tweet at or otherwise badger me in English so when I come online at the end of a day being surrounded by unfamiliar and new things, there's something familiar waiting for me.

Farewell,

Another Cliché Traveler Abroad
aka Urvi