Қурутобу Дабстеп

In the continued lack of any publishable adventures in Dushanbe, and more or less to prove that this isn't dead yet (two more months left…well that’s depressing!), a short update.

So as most of you know, I've been teaching English here for most of the last semester. It’s a job that’s had its ups (pay day=huge up) and its downs, but I find that I, surprisingly, am enjoying teaching. And my students don’t seem to openly hate me (yet), so that’s a plus. But for the vast majority of my work days, the routine has become fairly monotonous: Walk to class, have my unruly class, hour break, have the better behaved class, go home, and repeat.

Last Monday was both a glaring exception, and a genuine example of why I love this place.

On this particular Monday, I showed up early to work, because I was coming from lunch, and didn't see much of a point in going back to the office if I had to go to work soon afterwards. After the usual “Hello/Салом”-s, I hear the call go out: “Qurutob?” For those who may not remember, qurutob was the yogurt and bread concoction that I, in the first semester, and come to completely and utterly despise. Well, turns out that time was on the side of the national favorite, and I was now as excited as everyone else in the office upon hearing the name of this surprisingly delicious dish.

So I went to class, taught for a wonderfully fast hour, and then ran upstairs to be told “Greg, we have some qurutob for you in the kitchen.” And may I say, it was a marvelous feeling getting to chow down. But then, I hear something coming from the other room. Something that belongs in the clubs and college dorm parties of the West, but not in the administrative offices of an English program: the womp-womp-womp of dubstep.

There I was, watching as my fellow staff argued over which “whatever you call someone who makes dubstep”-er was better in a mix of fast paced Tajiki, Russian, and English, hands buried in the bowl of qurutob gorging myself, realizing that dammit, this might not be home, but this ain't half bad.

As always: Ташаккуру Худо ҳафез.