Bishkek Whiskey Breakfast

First day on the job at Radio Azattyk.

We started the day off with an all-staff meeting. I was introduced and given a general Q&A by some of the reporters (why come to Kyrgyzstan?), then tried to follow the next hour of project assignments and reports - all in Kyrgyz. There were some lively debates, and some (apparently) humerous retorts, none of which I understood.

Following the meeting I was literally hauled into the staff break room, with the entire senior staff in attendance. Then Gulaiym, my contact from Columbia who landed me the internship and is essentially serving as my mentor for the summer, pulled out a large bottle of Johnny Walker Red and a box of chocolates she purchased during a layover in Heathrow.

It is a custom not unique to Kyrgyzstan, in fact it seems universal in my admittedly limited travels. Whenever someone returns from a trip abroad, they are expected to bring back some small treat to share with everyone. Large, or long-lasting gifts don't seem to be popular - what matters is that everyone can enjoy a little something exotic. There is certainly some parallel in American culture, but it's not as widespread or as communal. "What did you get me," with a focus on the brilliance of the gift, rather than "what did you bring us," with enthusiastic, but temporary, curiousity.

With a great flourish, the senior staff crowded around the break room table and spread the chocolates around, while Gulaiym quickly poured a shot of whiskey for all present, myself included. There certainly was no refusing such an offer, so I embarked on the first straight shot of whiskey in my life at 10:00 am on Monday, the first of June, 2009.

In a culture where Vodka shots are a casual refreshment (prohibitions on alcohol being a flexibility of Islamic law not enforced in Kyrgyzstan), I hoped that whiskey - albeit Scottish rather than Kentucky - might give some of them enough pause to make my timidity less apparent. When the middle-aged woman to my left finished in one gulp, my hopes dissipated. Further, when I say "shot" bear in mind these are not actually shot glasses - they're small juice glasses, filled to the brim. I sipped mine in the largest gulps I could manage without making a face. Luckily, at least one or two people found whiskey not as appetizing as vodka, so I wasn't the last one finished.

In retrospect, I don't think I'd go so far as to recommend a shot(+) of whiskey as a Monday morning tradition, but I can't help wonder how much more entertaining that staff meeting would have been if we just bumped the Whiskey Breakfast one hour earlier.

Weber (on the lamb)