The caretakers have a new nickname for Garrett: "Vinigrete," the Russian word for grapes, on account of the silly purple grape hat I put him in every couple of days. When we show up they say "Posh lee, posh lee, Vinigrete! Mama ee Papa!" (Let's go, let's go, Grapes! Mama and Daddy are here!) Here are some pictures of my sweet little bunch of grapes today.
Yes, we took off the hat... but isn't his hair growing in nicely! He's so smart.
I've said it before, but isn't he a cute little bug! (Calvin is checking out this blog over my shoulder and has recommended that I add "exlamation points to show that we are 'cited to 'dopt my baby brother." So here we go... Hooray for adopting Garrett!!!)
That's all I've got for today... not many comments anyway, so why bother, right... ;)
Paka!
Becca
Here is Calvin biking around Kokshetau!
Here is a picture of Calvin being handfed sunflower seeds by his favorite clerk Ula at the Viola market. She smothers him with kisses when they meet. 
Here is the family next door. The eldest daughter speaks a little english and the son, Ali, is Calvin's fast friend. When we asked them to take this picture, Calvin ran up and held Ali's hand. 
As further evidence of spring, there are new fruit and vegis at the local market. Last week heralded the arrival of cucumbers, which we have consumed daily with the same moans of satisfaction typically reserved for decadent pieces of chocolate cake. Then yesterday, you could have blown me over with a feather, because Calvin greeted me at the door with... green grapes! I think I might actually have danced for joy. Today we found lettuce and parsley and bananas and were so proud that we actually took a picture of the bounty. This is what a couple weeks of late winter in Kazakhstan will do to you. Never again will I take Safeway for granted. I might even hug the clerk who is stocking peaches!
Oh, fun story... We were asking our driver Nursultan how he likes the van he just bought last week. He said that he liked it, but that the smell of the previous owner's smoking bothered him. At this our translator, Makhabbat, laughed and said that at least this car didn't smell like sheep. "Sheep?" we asked. Nursultan wouldn't explain, but Makhabbat was happy to. It seems that a couple months ago Nursultan offered to do a friend a favor by driving his sheep from one farm to another. At the time Nursultan only owned a 1994 Audi sedan. Makhabbat said that for weeks after chauffering the sheep, Nursultan's car smelled wretched. But, she added, at least he had transported it in the trunk of the car. Only in Kazakhstan would someone drive around with a live sheep in the trunk of an old audi! Classic.
Another local is on his way to the well with his bucket for pulling the water up and his large metal jug. There are lots of wells in this town and we see about a dozen people getting their water each day.
In other news, we have a very cute baby! Did you know? 
He was pretty cranky today because none of the babies would take their morning nap. All the same, he gave us a huge smile when we came in today, as if to say: "My Mommy and Daddy are here!"
Paka!
I was feeling particularily devoid of inspiration today and nearly resigned myself to posting only pictures. Tim, however, encouraged me to take some pictures around the neighborhood and give you all a tour. So here goes, grab your fur lined parka and stilletto heeled leather boots and let's hit the town. This is our little corner of Kazakhstan. 
We see them marching every morning in two straight lines. They dress in military uniforms, not because they are associated with the military, but because the military uniforms are cheaper. 
Every street in Kazakhstan is lined with huge rusty bundles of pipes. I think that they are water pipes but I can't be sure. 
When the pipes reach a walkway or street, they arch up and over and you pass underneath. This welcoming pipe arch is just a few steps from our front door.
At the end of the school yard there are always several old women in headscarves selling newspapers, shiny black sunflower seeds (by the scoop from a large tin can), homemade pickles by the can, and even fresh fish in plastic bags. I think the fish are caught on the frozen lake just outside town. Below is a picture of me and Mom at the lake.
I say "alley" but only for a lack of a better term. Traffic laws and right of ways are very fluid here in Kazakhstan. The main streets here are clearly defined, but to get between these main streets pedestrians simply walk in between the many concrete apartments. When the gaps between buildings are wide enough, cars will squeeze through as well.
At the end of the alley, you emerge onto a typical shopping street here in Kokshetau , lined with all sorts of shops (below). Don't ask me what kind of shops, however, because deprived of my ability to read signs, I have no way of telling. There is no such thing as "window shopping" here because the windows of the shops are empty. To combat the harsh weather, the front door of every shop opens onto a small blank foyer with another door just behind. Here you stomp the muck off your feet and shake the snow off your coat before really entering the shop. While undoubtedly practical, the upshot of this floorplan for a hesitant American is that you can't tell if the shop you are about to walk into is a bar or a market or a dentist or a shoe shop. 
So, that's about it for our immediate neighborhood, tripping home through the squelchy mud we see several small boys calling up to a friend on a balcony. We pass a solemn looking man in a black leather cap. When we see the "Smile" sign we know we're home.
Smile, you're in Kokshetau!
