Bambi

written January 17, 2009

Something they don't teach you during PST (Pre-Service Training): how to walk on the ice like the locals.

In the South of Kazakhstan, when we have sunny days the well-travelled snow will melt just enough to freeze overnight into a smooth sheet of ice. The walking paths become beautifully smooth ice skating rinks. The locals are unfazed by these trecherous paths. Women wear tall stiletto heels and glide elegantly across these ice patches. Children run and slide across them like Olympic athletes. Us Americans, well to put it gently, we're less elegant.

I've now fallen (like REALLY fallen - this does not include flailing or stumbling) three times this winter. One of these times was particularly impressive. Last week I was walking to school and I came across what used to be a couple of steps. In this season, they are covered in snow and ice and form a sort of "ramp". I hesitated, as my brain was struggling to think up the best solution for traversing this downward ramp of ice. I noticed an old babuskha (grandmother) coming my way, and wanting to blend in with the locals so I quieted my thoughts and hurriedly decided that maybe "quickly" was the best solution. If I tried to actually gingerly step down this ramp, I would surely fall as there was absolutely no foothold for these steps of mine. But, if I quickly scampered down the ramp I might be able to avoid slipping.
I went for it.

Unfortunately, on my very first movement I slipped. I now had all of my weight on a single limb that was sliding (not even remotely resembling grace) down the ramp. I glanced up and saw the babushka out of the corner of my eye and my pride kicked in and I decided that I needed to quickly regain composure. In an attempt to steady myself, I began flailing... We're talking like Bambi-style flailing here. I've got arms spinning in circles in opposite directions, one leg rapidly sliding out to the right side of my body, the other slowly, but surely rising up into the air and before I know it, all pride is lost and I'm sprawled out on the ice with limbs located in impressively flexible positions. I did the inevitable. I began to raise my eyes towards the babushka... only to find her gliding past me, unable to stifle her laughter, a broad smile slapped across her face.

It took a few attempts to regain a vertical position, but I was eventually able to stumble away from the scene with a relatively small number of witnesses. I was now clearly a foreigner and I'll probably have to learn Kazakh in order to regain any sort of respect from those few locals who witnessed this disaster.

I have since avoided this portion of the path to school, having found alternate (and less trecherous) routes on the other side of the road. My new plan of attack - avoidance.

* Many of my PCV friends have other, more impressive "Winter Fall" stories. For example, just this week I received a text message from a fellow PCV that read "Last 3 days, I'm 3/3 on ice falls. Day 1, slid back down an icy hill. Day 2, I bruised my thigh. Today was only a small tumble but in front of two girls that laughed at me." I'll attempt to gather more of these stories for the general entertainment of all.