We greet people we know and people we don't know. Doctor Aka stopped and gave greetings to the men sitting along the way. Ayah and I came to a little store to buy bread and candies. It wouldn't do, to arrive at the joy empty-handed.

It's the end of my 7-month stay in an Uzbek village teaching English and I was walking down the dirt roads with my host parents — Doctor Aka and Nurse Ayah. We drew close to a relative's house, Shakhnoza Sister's, whose children we love. "Let's see the baby. We can't just go by without seeing the little Kyrgyz (吉尔吉斯人)," laughed the Doctor. It's his personal joke to call the lovely baby a Kyrgyz.

We then continued our joy. There are endless occasions to throw party in this village. Birthdays, weddings, buying a car, a holiday — all call for throwing a party. The occasion in this evening was the return of a relative and his wife from working in Russa. Ayah and I joined the women in their separate pace. All the aunts were present. We enjoyed Russian chocolate, drank green tea, told stories, tasted Osh — a rice dish of Central Asia.

My departure (离开) in a few weeks was now a main topic: we were planning to have a good-bye party, to cry, to keep in touch by Skype, and for me to invite them to my wedding. The last blessing was given by the oldest person present. We headed out the gate amid "Bye, Cathy! Come again!" "Okay! Come to our house next time!" …

Seven months ago I didn't know these people or their language. I didn't know that I would visit from place to place and find them just that joy.