remains of soviet life

My Scholarship entry - A 'place' I have visited

KYRGYZSTAN | Friday, 11 January 2013 | Views [319] | View Larger Image

My Grandfather (Cholpon-ata in rural Kyrgyzstan). He makes homemade vodka from a large flask full of fermented jam, and drinks it warm. He drives at breakneck speed, ignores police, tells war stories, plays chess and has a street named after him because he once had a bet with the town mayor. He also saw Americans for the first time since WWII in August 2012.

My grandmother lives in Kyrgyzstan, Central Asia. Life here reverts back to the Soviet era. In this photo my grandmother is offering steamed dumplings on my last day there, she was emotional, nervous, sad and yet eager to please. Everything is made by hand, and there is no such thing as an electric mixer in my grandmothers’ world. In fact almost all the equipment she owns dates back 15 or 30 years. This is a place where wires hang exposed from walls, washing machines are like gods - and are even given rest breaks ( meaning we revert to hand washing) to ensure that the washing machine doesn’t over work. My grandmother somehow turns into a comedian when I bring western travelers to their place to stay, she becomes the charismatic centre of attention as she sits in her kitchen happily questioning and joking with a room full of young travelers.

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My grandparents just have each other, and rely only on each other in all daily tasks. This typical hairdressing scenario is a tender yet utilitarian moment between the two. My grandfather is by no means a hairdresser and the resulting hairstyle is usually haphazard and ragged. This shot was taken as my grandmother was giggling and telling him not to clip her neck or ear again.

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remains of soviet life

My Scholarship entry - A 'place' I have visited

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