May 2: "It's good to have someone from Mammoth here."

It took a volcanic eruption to meet my friend, Altynai. This is a long story, but here it goes.

A couple months before moving to Kyrgyzstan, I had met John and Nancy Walter, two of the first Americans to volunteer their skills in newly-independent Kyrgyzstan, following the collapse of the Soviet Union.

As a cultural anthropologist, Nancy taught at a university in K-Stan, and is known as a very courageous woman. John had also enhanced the lives of ordinary Kyrgyz people in his own way. It was a great coincidence that this couple, who had been married for over 50 years, lived in the same small CA mountain town that I did. I relished the opportunity to meet them, and to pick their brains about the country whose people I would soon serve.

I have to thank Dinah Craig for making it happen. I coached her son, Connor, on the snowboard team in Mammoth. She had been one of the first people I had told about my plans to join the Peace Corps, and two years later, when I told her I was going to Kyrgyzstan, she insisted that I meet John and Nancy, and set up a dinner date at their house.

John and Nancy's house was built on a hillside in Mammoth Lakes, CA, where every summer, they assembled a yurt in the back yard, which, according to John, can be seen on Google Earth. Inside, adorned with shyrdaks (colorful Kyrgyz rugs stuffed with sheep wool), kalpaks (traditional Kyrgyz hats), komuzes (small, three-stringed Kyrgyz guitars), and photos from Central Asia that span decades, their walls tell stories of the adventures they've taken, and the people with whom they've shared their lives.

We sat on the floor around a long, short table covered with a colorful table cloth, and drank tea and ate bread. I told them about myself, and started to ask questions about life in Central Asia. Nancy answered each question with anecdotes about the people of Kyrgyzstan.

They've kept in close contact with one Kyrgyz family in particular, whom they call their ''second family.'' Their names are Urmat and Dinara, and their children, Iskander and Altynai. All four of them have lived in Mammoth, in John and Nancy's house, and basically learned how to speak English there.

After dinner, they Skyped Altynai, who is now living in London, studying fashion design. John and Nancy are like second parents to Altynai, so, even though it was four in the morning, local time, in Altynai's flat, she enthusiastically answered the call.

The three of them caught up, Altynai proudly displayed a magazine which had published some of her designs, and Nancy introduced her to me, an American who is moving to Kyrgyzstan with the Peace Corps.

I told Altynai that I would be teaching English in a rural village, and sharing snowboarding with the local people by starting clubs and teaching kids how to ride, using equipment donated by some of the parents of the kids I'd been coaching. She said that there would be plenty of opportunities to snowboard there.

Altynai had long dark hair and captivating brown eyes. Eager to learn about the country I would soon be living in, I hung on to every word. She recommended that I bring American movies and some good snacks to get me through the first culture shock. She said that I would love it and hate it at the same time. As a girl in a village in Issyk-Kul, an oblast on the east side of Kyrgyzstan, she had been taught by a Peace Corps Volunteer, and her family had a good opinion of PCVs. Sharing this moment with her, a native Kyrgyz girl, became deeply meaningful, and my brain was swimming with possibilities.

Altynai continued her conversation with John and Nancy, updating them with news from her family, until there was nothing left to say.

''Well, I'd better go,'' she said, ''and get ready to face another day.''

After that night, Nancy contacted Urmat and Dinara and gave them my email address. Soon I was in contact with them, and I was reveling in my good fortune. There was a local Kyrgyz family awaiting my arrival.

I kept Altynai and her family in the back of my mind as I drove out of Mammoth and across the country, to Pennsylvania; and then on the flight to Istanbul, and finally Bishkek, telling the story of our Skype conversation along the way. We had been emailing each other pictures of ourselves, and I couldn't wait to meet her.

On my second night in Kyrgyzstan, while staying at the Issyk-Kul Hotel, Altynai tracked me down and called me on the phone in my room, which took some effort on her part. She was back home, during a break from University, and would be in Bishkek until the middle of April.

It was great to hear from her, but I wasn't allowed to visit her family's house in Bishkek, since the Peace Corps had us on lock-down. We had just arrived, and they didn't want us to leave the hotel, I explained to her, but I would call her when I buy a cell phone, and have some more freedom.

A week later, on April 7, 85 Kyrgyz people were killed during a violent revolution in Bishkek, which ousted their president from power. I sent Altynai, Dinara, and Nancy an email to tell them that I was okay, that my group was not leaving the country, and to wish them the best during this sad, profoundly difficult time. I tried to call Altynai, but her phone had been shut off. I assumed she had left the country and gone back to London.

After things had settled down, and I was back with my host family in Novo Pokrovka, I checked my email and found that Altynai had written me to let me know that she was still in Kyrgyzstan, but would be leaving soon. I checked the date, and realized I had missed her. I replied with my cell phone number anyway.

That night, she called.

''Did you hear about the volcano erupting in Iceland?'' she asked me.

''No, I don't know anything that's going on,'' I said.

She laughed. ''That's so funny about Kyrgyz people! They never know what's happening in the rest of the world. It's okay. These two years will be a good rest for your brain.''

Turns out, a volcano had erupted in Iceland, sending a cloud of ash and debris East across Europe, halting air traffic for weeks, and costing the airline industry millions. But, it kept Altynai in Bishkek. Our meeting felt pre-ordained, like it was meant to be. We made plans to meet on my day off.

Altynai picked me up and took me to her family's house, where Urmat was cooking plov. He was a professional cook, Altynai told me. Her parents are both artists (''cyrootchewloor''), which explains her love for fashion design. They have a beautiful property, with a grassy courtyard separating their house from their art studio.

A table was set up on the grass, and I sat down and spoke some broken Kyrgyz with some of Dinara's friends, who were impressed with the level of my language, for only having been in-country for a month. Still, I could understand very little of what was being said.

Altynai's older brother, Iskander, soon arrived, and the three of us, along with a couple of Altynai's friends, spoke English together, reminiscing about the time they spent in Mammoth. Iskander said he really misses is, and after over ten years, is going back this summer to try to sell some of his art in New Mexico. Then, he's going to visit John and Nancy.

One of their friends was a student, and was doing a project about ethnic violence. She asked me if she could interview me, to hear a Peace Corps Volunteer's views on the subject. One of their other friends was interested in hearing about how small business volunteers could help with her projects, as a businesswoman. I wrote down their numbers, and told them I would keep in touch if something comes up. I felt so comfortable with my new friends, I almost forgot for a moment that we were in Kyrgyzstan, a country that is so new and unfamiliar to me.

It was time for me to leave, and Dinara extended an invitation for me to come back any time.

''I like Americans,'' she said. ''They are so…broad.'' Dinara struck me as an incredible woman who I would like to get to know better.

It was actually really hard to leave Altynai, because she said that she probably would not be coming back to Kyrgyzstan at all in the next two years. She gave me a bag full of hand-outs for the children of the village where I will soon be living, like Harry Potter books on tape, some VHS movies, and a few pairs of goggles and gloves, for my future snowboard club.

I gave her a poster of June Lake and Carson Peak for her flat in London. We hugged each other, and I said I thought it was cool that it took a volcanic eruption for us to meet. I'm not sure if she had thought about it in the same way, but I think she was glowing a little.

Urmat and Iskander then drove me back to my host family's house, and Iskander and I made plans to go snowboarding together sometime next winter.

''It's good to have someone from Mammoth here,'' Iskander said, and I replied that it was good to be here.
Shutting the car door and walking across the street to my house, my temporary home in Kyrgyzstan during Pre-Service Training, I thought back to why I joined the Peace Corps in the first place. Knowing that I was meeting one of my goals successfully, and making new friends on the other side of the world, I felt elated.