Rarely a day goes by without you wondering what you’re doing here. And sometimes, Azerbaijan will answer with moments that justify simply everything. Little did I know this past Sunday would be an entire series of those moments – dream-like and vivid. On its clear morning I pressed dark footprints into fresh, fleecy snow, and [...]

Life is what you make of it February 6, 2012

A friend from CMCNY asked me a question which I think requires an honest answer. Over the years, she saw me achieve many personal goals, make many of my adventure dreams come true, later join the Peace Corps, now come back, find a good job with a good organization, move to DC and start a new life. To her, everything that I did so far appears to be unproblematic, effortless, logical, and requires no serious struggle or complication. Life should not be that easy, she implied. Did I plan for them to happen or they just happened? The answer is simple but yet complex: Everything happened in my life, I made it happen. * *(The answer is nearly 100% correct but with one exception: I cannot make people love me. it is a complicated subject, perhaps I can explore it some later days) I am one of those few lucky individuals who were born with a very strict self-discipline. I demand for perfection, set up exceptional high standard for myself, believe in working hard, never give up easily, and recognize that there is truly no short cut in life. Most importantly, I never lose sight of my dreams. Each goal I set, I pursuit it wholeheartedly. It takes a strong will, a massive dedication of time and a superb plan to keep every dream alive. Of course I worked hard, of course I struggled, of course I failed, of course I scarified, of course I was misunderstood, and of course, I was lonely……but I always followed through my dreams. So my friend, everything happened in my life so far, I planned for it, I worked towards it and I used tremendously strength and determination to accomplish it. Through life's difficulties and challenges it easy for us to lose sight of our hopes and dreams, but I am smart enough not to let them happen to me.

The Natural Washer and Drier February 5, 2012

My new bathroom has an old fashion cast iron radiator. It reminds me the Russian Heater that my host mother put in my room two winters ago in Azerbaijan. They both are antique but I love them. Winter in Azerbaijan was a miserable time for me, especially the first winter. I was always cold. One day, my host mother went into the chicken shed and found this “alien” thing that I never saw in my whole life. My host sister showed me how to use it. This little devise generated not just heat, but fire sometimes. I am sure, according to the US standard, this indoor heating device is on the forbidden household item list. But I loved it. I used it not only to keep myself warm, but also to keep my tea hot and last but not least, to dry my laundry. The heat was so intense that few times, I burned my underwear! One day, this precious little devise broke and I was heartbroken. My host sister came to the rescue. She reconnected some wires and at once created some sparkling fire. I was scared it would burn down the house. My host sister just smiled and told me it was safe to use again. That heater kept me warm the whole winter. When I left Azerbaijan, I was tempted to bring it back to American and maybe show it to the expert in “Antique Road Show”. (hahaaa!) Today, looking at the radiator in my bathroom, I could not help but remembering those days. In stead of having bitter feeling as some my RPCV friends have, I feel sweet. Even today, I have a drier and washer; I keep the habit of hand washing most of my cloths, hang them up and let it dry naturally. Since I move in to this new apartment, I found my self loving this radiator. Unconsciously, I hang my cloths on top of the heater to dry. Each time I collect my cloth, I smell it and smile….. Remember I once read: “The simple life is not a substitute, only a corrective”. Naturally, not everyone understands but I do.

I don't often look back over what I've written in my journal, its usually a mediation in the moment and my handwriting is bad enough to prevent much reflection on what was already done. However, when searching for a topic on what to write about this week I thought it may be inspiring to see what I've been writing about over the past few weeks in hopes of gaining inspiration for ideas.

The thing is, its winter and these past couple weeks it's happened to be really really cold. The city of Khachmaz broke two records this week-coldest day and longest span of coldest days in a row, meaning we actually continued to break the coldest day record day after day after day. Actually, all over the country PCVs (and Azeris) are getting a taste of what a bad winter week can be like in a developing country. Most people are without water (my friend's pipes haven't been unfrozen for over 10 days), electricity is spotty in some areas, and some places are having to ration gas due to it being so cold and concern over demand.

Back to the journal, much of my journal is filled with concerns over winter seclusion, introversion, and guilt. During these months volunteers repeatedly tell themselves 'I should be out there making a difference,' 'I should be holding more clubs,' and 'I should really get out of this sleeping bag at least once today'. But its hard to stay motivated when you hold a conversation club that only one person shows up to, and you end up canceling midway through because you both just want to go home.

Last year at this time I excitedly wrote about my success in using my minimal Azeri to order a camera charger (which-by the way-was never ordered). Just like the toddler no longer thrilled by their parent's 'peek-a-boo,' a year makes a big difference, and the successful (or perceived success) of purchasing one item doesn't motivate me for the week. Right now, there are no camps nor softball games to get excited about; my biggest accomplishments this week were finishing Season 1 of Game of Thrones and The OCD Project, not exactly something I'll be advertising to my Country Director during a close of service interview.

But its not hopeless, the end of winter isn't in sight, but 29 years of experience tells me that February ends. Written these past few weeks are also anticipations and excitements for the future, for those projects that come, come the months that bring spring. And these projects all have boring prep that must be done before they can even begin, just how the boring depths of winter must be survived before the trees can bud. Camp occurs months from now, but my Azeri counterpart and I have already begun meeting to plan and organize how we will expand it to two more cities in surrounding regions. Training of trainer sessions for Azerbaijani English Teachers won't begin for a while, but it wouldn't happen at all unless the time was taken this week to submit the grant. And as much as I want this trip to Turkey to get here, there is also a need to submit vacation requests and purchase airline tickets.

So, though there is nothing much to report on as having happened, there is a lot happening to ensure that I will soon have something to report. And screw it, tearing through Game of Thrones is something to be proud of.

I haven’t written in a long time.  I could chalk it up to me being busy or the holidays, but that’s not the full scope of it.  I recently started to write blogs about “new cooking sensations”, “holidays”, and “fancy New Year’s trees” to fill you in on what’s been going on.  Then something happened.  [...]

Here are some trees that my town decorated to celebrate the New Year.  There were more all around town, but I didn’t have a chance to take pictures.  They pretty much all looked like these.

You'd think that during a Peace Corp Volunteer's first month of service at site, she or he would feel like a badass, like a lean, mean world traveler, dropped off alone in some random location in a forlorn corner of the world, forced to utilize the 10 weeks of language and culture learning to her or his best ability, and also have to continuosly emit the diplomatic and politically correct air of an embassador.

Well, technically I am doing all those things, but actually I've been feeling like I did, twelve, fifteen years ago. Yes, feeling exactly how I used to as a child. Let me explain.

I've lost most of my independence. For starters, I don't have a car, and don't know where most things are (I can get to the city, Danachi, and the school by myself, although relying on the public transportation's schedules); if I need to get somewhere I need help arranging a ride via a taxi, or a grandpa, uncle, brother, etc. who has a car.

I get toted around, more like a doll than a finely cultivated human being, to people's houses who I don't know and have never been in before. I can't participate in the "grown-up" conversations because I can't understand the language. I have to stay until the adults decide it's time for me to go.

I don't have intellectual conversations anymore. I get asked the same questions over and over again, as a child does. "How old are you? Do you have a mother, father? How many brothers and sisters? Which is better, America or here? . . . " etc.

I have to deal with other people's kids. I'm not talking about about at school--because that's one place where I get reprieve because I am clearly in an adult position over my students--but in the home. I used to babysit a lot, and being trapped in a house with unruly children is nostalgic, not in the good way, but in the oh god, why is this happening to me again, I thought I got past this way.

I have to hide my "naughtiness" and lie to my mom: "Yes, of course the boys at the party slept in the other room . . . No, I don't drink, I don't like it . . . Yes, we're engaged, in fact I want to have my girl's wedding at Terane Soray (the village wedding hall)! . . . " etc. (Although the last one isn't a full lie, I am playing with the idea of having a wedding here. It would be so fun! But probably won't be able to afford it.)

My adult relationship with my significant other has been reduced to texting and Skyping.

Like when I was a teenager, I am unhappy about my figure and feel the nagging need to do stupid little exercises, and also to eat less food.

I eat the food that my mom prepares for me, have to get up early every week day for school, and endure the constant badgering of a younger bother.

Worst of all, it is winter, and a freakishly snowy one at that. So all I ever feel like doing is burrowing myself in the house and hibernating like a fat bear. Give me warm milk and let me watch Cartoon Network all day! (one of the few English channels we have)

So yes, these are the situations that are creating in me emotions that I haven't had in a long time. It's a litle bit surreal, like having a chance to be a child again. Although I didn't particulary want to relive childhood (I was a perfectly happy young adult), it's still an interesting experience nonetheless.

I'm not really complaining; after all, Peace Corps duly warned us about this exact problem. We're in the community entry stage, at the mercy of our towns and villages to be shown how life is here. And thus far my community has truly been great, I've experienced no harrassment, spy accusations, or roadblocks in my workplace. And the hospitality that this country takes great pride in has helped my transition so much.

Spring is, thankfully, just around the corner, and it is my light at the end of the tunnel. At least, that's how I envision it. Is it my final emergence through the Azerbaijani birth canal? The passage towards community development enlightenment? Or just a reprieve from the cold? I don't know, but either way I am so ready to be done with this snowed-in feeling.

This week I let the teachers who wanted to learn English know that we would meet on Tuesdays after school and any children who wanted to learn English we would meet on Thursdays for conversation club. This week as I mentioned (about a 100 times) winter snow has come with a vengeance!! It has snowed and snowed and snowed some more. We have very little heat at school and it is extremely cold. But the other three schools in my village have no heat at all, so I consider myself (and our students) lucky. On Tuesday, 4 teachers showed up for conversation club, the other teachers reason was because it is too cold. So the four teachers and I just stayed in the teacher's room and went over basic English for an hour. My thoughts then on Thursday was that the children would not want to come in the snow and cold. I went upstairs to the English room and re-arranged the desk, make it more kid friendly. I put up my posters and opened the drapes for light (and of course to see more SNOW). And then I hear a noise and I turned around and about 5 children came in, and then several more walked into class and several more and I ended up with 18 students ready to learn... WOW!!!!! I had purchased a few notebooks from the canteen downstairs in case anyone that didn't have a notebook. And all of them went rather quickly. I then gave out stickers to each student (thank you Paul) and told them each week that they come to conversation club they will receive a sticker and at the end of club, the one with the most stickers will win the prize of the "Native American Dream Catcher" (thank you again Paul). It was great to see kids who want to learn. I wrote on the board "Row your Boat", a simple camp song for new words to learn and had them write it in their notebook. We sang it several times. I had a Azerbaijani co-teacher translated the song and the kids had it down after a few times singing it. We played Simon says (but I changed it to Teacher says). I think they all had fun, it was a good club. I am excited to see how many will show up for our next conversation club. So in spite of the cold and snow, I am so bless, that just maybe I will make a difference after all!! So I want to thank all of you for your continued support, love and prayers (especially the prayers for patience and non violence) and your wonderful and very much appreciated packages!!

Life Challenge: Quote by John Philip Sousa "I have always believe that 98% of a student progress is due to there own efforts and 2% to their teacher".

What a start to 2012! Seriously, in all my years (am I too young to say that?), I don’t think I’ve been as excited for a year as I am for 2012. A couple of trips, a plateful of unbelievable projects this spring and summer, and of course, the conclusion of my Peace Corps service (November 9 for those of you who still don’t know). To think that I will back in North America by this time next year is almost too strange to believe, but that’s still a ways off so we’ll stop right there!

2012 has been good to me so far! It started with a short weekend of skiing in Georgia with some of my closest PCV friends, 8 of us to be exact. We called it a guys’ weekend, despite the two female PCVs that came with us…they were good sports about it all! 4 of us were celebrating January birthdays. After a day and very long night and early morning traipsing around Tbilisi, we caught a small bus to Gudauri, a very small ski resort 4 hours or so north of the capital. It sits at about 10,000 feet, well above the tree line. It was whitewashed with nearly two meters of fresh powder the day before we got there! The road up to it was closed so we had to stop and put chains on the tires halfway up. Gudauri is said to have the best heli-skiing in the Caucasus mountains. Of course, a Peace Corps stipend does not exactly allow us to splurge on a helicopter, so we stayed grounded and stuck to the chair lifts. The weather was perfect and conditions on the mountain were magical. It is an open-faced mountain: no trees and no distinct trails. The cats groom a path down every so often depending on weather conditions, but you are not really restricted at all in terms of where you want to go. You can stick to the winding groomed trails all the way down (a 7km path from top to bottom) or brave the glades and try your luck in the ungroomed stuff. Some of us spent most of our days near the top doing this. Thankfully, we all finished the weekend safe and sound, minus some burning quads and the occasional instance where we got stuck in snow up to our neck and had to dig and hike our way out!We rented an apartment right on the slopes and spent our nights mostly in our long underwear eating, drinking, doing karaoke, and sneaking into hotel spas for some R&R in the saunas and hot tubs. Not surprisingly, it was a wonderful group of people to travel with and we had a fantastic time together!

Despite our failure to meet anyone remotely interested in paying for our trip in a helicopter as Trey and I had dreamed of, we had an amazingly refreshing and at the same time draining weekend. Very little sleep was had and nothing but pork, wine, and cha-cha (Georgian liquor) was consumed. Yet, being outside all day on the slopes, the sun shining and not a cloud in the sky, was so revitalizing that we came back to Azerbaijan and Baku for our Mid-Service Conference (MSC) all smiles!

MSC was another exciting event. It is the final conference for the AZ8 group before our Close of Service meeting in August. The two-day conference is spent reflecting on our first year of service, sharing stories, feelings, ideas, plans, etc. As much as most of us role our eyes as staff encourage us to share our feelings, it was a useful couple days to find inspiration for the final 9 months of service. Even better, it was capped off by being assigned the 3rd earliest COS date of November 9. No plans are set in stone yet. I hope to travel a bit in Southeast Asia before returning to North America before the holiday season. I’m looking at going to Nepal, India, Thailand, and Malaysia. If anyone has travelled in these countries or any other ones nearby, I would love your input!

This 2 week whirlwind of ridiculousness and reflection was capped off by the first conference of my gender training project that I am doing with the WID/GAD committee and our counterpart organization, the World of Women Public Union. This conference was not an actual training, but a training of trainers as we like to call it. With that, I believe this conference became the longest acronym that Peace Corps has (WID/GAD WoW ToT), and that’s saying something because there are A LOT of them, believe me! Despite a massive dumping of snow, WoW came to Peace Corps headquarters on a Saturday and presented their material to the WID/GAD committee and a number of local PC staff. After presenting their material, we critiqued them, providing feedback in an attempt to prepare them for the six presentations that they will make to students and community leaders throughout Azerbaijan in the coming months. They did a wonderful job and I am so anxious to begin the trainings! For more information on the ToT and to see pictures, please click here: http://widgadaz.com/

Of course, as much as I hate to say it, all good times must come to an end. I have fallen back to reality pretty hard. To say the least, Azeris can be quite averse to snow and cold weather. Generally, their first reaction is to cancel everything and stay at home, no matter how little has actually fallen. A couple of “monster” snow storms this week, no more than six inches mind you, have put a halt to absolutely EVERYTHING. Schools are cancelled, interregional buses have stopped going, and all meetings and activities I had hoped to have were immediately assumed to be called off. There’s no telling how long this hibernation will last. I hope not long; I cannot wait for spring to come!

Peace Corps Azerbaijan (8th Group)...I'm the "A"

The Top

Just 3 Guys, Having a Good Time

Avalanche Zone?!

Ya, let's do it!

And we're the 3 best friends that anyone could have...

The biggest downside of MSC...having to take an intestinal parasites detection test. Yes, it is exactly what you think it is! I will be sending my own poop in the mail! How many people can say they've done that before?

Trust me, I didn't forget the best part of my year! As life often goes here in Azerbaijan, the internet is not cooperating as I would like to be uploading pictures from Italy. Hopefully I can get some up soon, though. Stay tuned.

Found a piano up an empty stairwell   Battled ninjas and turtles with our bare hands   Shook our fists at life…   Paused to listen   Thought: ‘how many hands does one need to pray?”

Pomegranate Festival

Winners of the costume contest

Pin the Nose on the Pumpkin. A huge hit at the Halloween party.

It has been a long time since I have updated this blog. I think a variety of reasons contributed to my absence. It would be nice to say I was so terribly busy I just did not have time, but I think that would be stretching it. Mostly, looking back on last fall/ early winter, I realize I was pretty homesick.

We come to Peace Corps not knowing anyone from our group of sixty and they end up becoming family within forty eight hours. It is sort of a strange phenomenon but a close cohort of any kind is a scientific study in and of itself. I was really thankful when I was placed at my permanent site for two years with two of the men who were in my language training cluster. We were already extremely close and I knew I was lucky to have their support for the remainder of my service. But even better than that, we were placed in Goychay with two girls from the AZ7 (I am an AZ8) group who were wonderful. I grew really close to both Rikki and Megan and we had a blast getting to know each. But as the saying goes, time flies when you are having fun. Megan ended up leaving in September and Rikki in November. And frankly, it was a really hard adjustment. Saying goodbye to people here is not as simple as it is in America. It has to be done many times, and not just a hug, but a long lasting multiple course dinner round with tea before and twice after. After about four different ‘good-bye’ dinners with Rikki and her Azerbaijani friends, I had to stop being her plus one, it was just too sad.

My homesickness was compounded by seeing my family in Rome for Christmas and it was hard knowing I was so close to seeing them, but not quite there yet. I was stressed out enough that the Peace Corps doctor had to be tough on me. The conversation went something like this:

Emily: (Calling the doc in Baku) Hi Doctor. I think I may have parasites again. Will you send me a stool sample?

PCDr.: (Sigh) Yes, Emily, I will send you a stool sample, but I think we need to have a talk. This will be the third one you have taken in the past two months, and both have come up negative for parasites. It truly seems that you are just stressed out.

Emily: Oh. I think you’re right.

She was.

Stress is not always the issue. It is how one handles it. But that is not always my strong suit. My escape and coping mechanisms for stress could be another blog post on its own. Instead, I am going to give you a crash course on what I did while I was not attending to my blog.

October: October was my most productive school month of this year. My counterpart was pretty gung ho about new ideas (Venn Diagrams!) and we did not have a single holiday to break up the weeks. The new trainees come from America and live in Sumgayit for three months soaking up knowledge before being sent to the regions. In the middle they also go and visit volunteers for a week and see what site is really like, what we do at school, how we live, and eat non-Azeri food. I had two girls come out and visit the village.

We talk the kids “The Wheels on the Bus” song and went to both of my counterparts’ houses for a lot of food. My counterpart and I threw a Halloween party for fifth through tenth form students. We had a costume contest (I was a bag of tea), food, music, card making station, and a Pin the Nose on the Pumpkin game. After that, I made my way up to the north finger of Azerbaijan to Shabran and had an American Halloween with some of the volunteers.

Our Training group was reunited! Tagiyev 19.

November: I started November by traveling to Baku and spending a week helping with the new trainees’ English teaching practicum. I observed the classes they were teaching and provided feedback and helped our program manager with her reports for the trainees. I then came back to the best part of living in Goychay: Pomegranate Festival.

It happens every year in our region and is spectacular. There are booths from every village, town, restaurant, etc. showing off their best pomegranates, there is a Pomegranate Princess who drives up in a nice car, the ambassadors from America, Russia, and Japan came, and there is a concert at night.

November also brought “Gurban Bayrami” or the Sacrificial holiday. We sacrifice a sheep and then give a third of it to our neighbors, a third of it to the poor, and keep a third for ourselves. This was happening at the same time it was persimmon harvest. We spent about two weeks from morning until night hand picking the persimmons from the trees and lining them up nicely so the people who sell them to Russia can come and see the selection. November also brought the leaving of the AZ7’s which I celebrated in Baku and Thanksgiving which was held at the Charge d’affaires’ house (Butterball Turkeys!).

December: My Birthday! The kids at school sang me “Happy Birthday,” the teachers made a cake, and my sitemates, Alec and Matt, came out to the house for supper with the family. I got peppery perfume, underwear, and towels from the Azeris, and incense, coffee, and cards from the Americans. Then I waited for Rome. My parents had spent a long time preparing for Italy, and everything went smoothly. I met my mom, dad, sister, brother, and brother’s girlfriend in Rome for ten days for Christmas. It was glorious. It almost feels like a dream now.

January: I readjusted to Azerbaijan by spending New Year’s in Baku. I went to school for a few weeks, and then took another week long break at our Mid-Service conference in Baku. All of the volunteers from my group met together for the first time since the previous December to talk about the best practices from the year before and the sustainability of the next year of service. We also picked dates for when we will leave (November 29th!), had guest speakers from the Clean World (Temiz Dunya) organization which fights human trafficking and champions for women’s rights, and watched our fellow volunteers compete for Azerbaijan’s spot on Eurovision (they did not make it). I also quit having my English conversation clubs and started a health club in Azerbaijani for my sixth and seventh graders.

Now I am back in February. I have made some New Year’s resolutions which include me getting back into the swing of updating my blog. I am looking forward to a yacht trip off the coast of Turkey in June and am using that to start cooking for myself more at home. We’ve recently been hit with one of the coldest winters Azerbaijan has seen, but so far the brown monster (Peace Corps issued sleeping bag – It is large, brown, and so very warm) has kept me frost free.

My brother up in the tree picking away

This wove all the way upstairs as well

Getting ready for winter: Cutting up beans to can

A training in Goychay on using interactive methods with our textbooks. Josh Ehrenreich came down from Khachmaz to lead it for teachers in our region.

My sitemate Rikki's host father and his granddaughter at the Pomegranate Festival

Well the new semester is now in full swing what with week two in the books. I can’t say I’m really happy about the way it has started out, but then again, I’m not overly pessimistic about it either. While I’m enjoying my classes and getting though some really good material in both History and English, I’m just really bummed that I seem to be babysitting the upper grades. ‘Don’t do that. Put that down. Sit still. Be quiet. Stop throwing things. Well, if you don’t touch him then he won’t touch you.’ Really? Just sit the f@*k down and be still! It’s 45 minutes! If you don’t want to learn anything then that’s on you and the mass sums of money your parents are paying for this school. But, don’t keep the other kids from learning as well. And, I’m not talking about the little kids here. I’m talking about 8-11th grades. Ugh.

However, that is not what this blog post is about. I promised that I would do a better job of updating those of you back in the Land of Freedom about the goings on here in Tbilisi and what I’m up to. So a couple of weeks ago a group of Fulbright girls, and one guy, were in Tbilisi for a holiday and we were hooked up by a girl who had been in PC with me here who knew one of them from America. (Yeah, long strange connection there). Anyway, I agreed to meet them on a Saturday and show them around a few places. You never know who you’re going to run into when you agree to do these types of things, but this group turned out to be completely normal and we had a pretty good day walking around and seeing the sites of Tbilisi. It kind of works out too since I’m planning a trip to Istanbul in April for my Spring Break (my favorite holiday… JOB anyone?) and a few of them agreed that since they are all working somewhat near Istanbul that they would meet me there one day and show me a few of the sites. So, cool. I got a day out of the house and away from lesson planning and maybe a free tour guide when I go to Turkey.

This past Saturday I met up with a guy who is here from the University of South Carolina to start up a journalism school at one of the Universities. He and his wife got here in September and will stay until the summer then other faculty members from USC will come and spend anywhere from a semester or two working to keep the program up and going. We shared a few stories on what it’s like to work in a school with Georgian teachers and administrators and he expressed a few frustrations that I had to laugh at. I’m so glad I’m off the learning curve. Not to say that I know it all by any means, but there are very few things that surprise me anymore when it comes to the working relationships and dynamics of a school here in Georgia. Anyway, we had a good chat for a few hours and then I walked around for a while to stretch my legs and enjoy some pretty decent weather.

That weather was short lived by the way. This past week has been all snow, wind and cold. I saw the sun for the first time in a week yesterday and it’s gone again today behind thick clouds, fog and snow. Brrr… I’ll get back to this in a minute.

That day of fresh air though was much needed since my work load has increased a lot this month. I’ve picked up two more private students and my day now generally runs from 8am to 7pm. By the time I get home from school I have about an hour to rest and grab some food before I spend 2-3 hours with private students in the evening. I have at least one every night (sometimes 2) except Tuesdays. It worked out that way and now I’m holding fast to not scheduling any students or allowing any make up days on that night. I need at least one night to myself and so I can knock out some lesson planning at home rather than sucking up my 30 minute lunch break everyday trying to stay on top of it. I do have a good window in my schedule on Tuesdays at school so I can generally get most of the week’s plans out of the way then as well.

Then, last Sunday morning I was sitting around having a relaxing morning cup of coffee when… AHHHHHHHHHHHH! (A blood curdling scream made me almost throw my coffee across the room). The screams continued for several minutes before I had the courage to open my front door to see just what the hell was going on in the apartment next door. Apparently the mother in the family next door had died during the night and as the family rose (late on a Sunday as normal here) they discovered her death. I quickly went back into my apartment as to not be the neighbor who hangs around during a moment of family grief. I could hear everything though from my living room as other family and friends arrived within the hour. More screams and crying as the medical unit came, I presume to announce the death and take any measures that were needed.

Now, what you need to understand here is that in the Georgian tradition the body is not moved out of the house and the wake lasts for 3-5 days depending. There is no embalming process. The coffin is just brought in and set up and the wake begins. So all day Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday the family’s door was open and people were coming in and out and generally hanging around in the stairway in the evenings. Incense was lit on Monday and for three days the stairway and even my apartment smelt like an Orthodox church. Since I elected to stay in my apartment all day on Sunday I did not have a chance to give my condolences to the father (whom I had only met once and spoken to a grand total of about 3 times since I moved in) until Monday when I came home from school. I had no idea what to say other than ‘sorry for your loss’ and give him a handshake and a knowing look. He seemed to appreciate it, but I have no idea if there was anything else I should have done. I was not about to do the Georgian tradition of entering the home and walking around the body three times. I’ve done that before and let me just tell you that there is something to be said for the work of a good mortician rather than the ‘natural’ look. No thanks. I could see it (the body and coffin) from the stairway and the only thing that told me was that they had set her up along the common wall with my bedroom. So for the next three nights every time I went to bed all I could think was, ‘on the other side of this 6” of wall is a dead body.’ I slept well enough, but it was not something I was overly thrilled about. Thankfully the funeral was Wednesday and all seems to have gone back to normal.

In other news, I thought I would share with you what is starting to become an annoying tradition in my 8th grade class. Each week they (the students) seem to get together and determine some kind of question that they want to ask me that has nothing to do with the topic that we’re discussing. And, they generally wait until the middle of the lesson to ask it. I, for some reason, have humored them for the most part and answered the questions. For example, this past week was on the topic of my wardrobe and produced a pretty funny back and forth. I wear slacks, a shirt and tie and my nice black shoes to school just about every day. One of the girls (after some clarification) wanted to know if when I went ‘out’ in the evenings with friends or whatever if I wore the same clothes. At first I was confused by the question because it struck me as completely off the wall. I told her that of course I didn’t and that I generally wore jeans, a sweater (in winter) and regular shoes or boots if it was really icy. This caused a mini discussion amongst them before the follow up question. “So when you go out, do you still wear such big shoes?” I almost fell out of my chair I wanted to laugh so hard. My shoe size has been a topic of humor among my friends and family ever since I was in 8th grade myself. I’m 5’10” and about 145lbs and wear a size 12 shoe. (This sounds even worse by the European standard since it translates to a size 46). My students honestly wanted to know if I just wore my nice black shoes because they are big and shinny. After I stopped laughing I told them no, that my feet were just big and no matter where I went I was always wearing big shoes.

Not all of their questions catch me in a good mood or at the right time either. For example, this past Monday during 1st period History, they decided to ask me why they should have to study World History. Fair enough, but it was the follow up reasoning that got me a little pissed.

“Why should we have to study other people’s history when we are Georgian and have the longest history? Do other people have to study our history? Why should we have to study theirs if they don’t study ours?”

Now I know that throughout my life I have sometimes said the wrong thing at the wrong time and I try never to do that at school. But at 9am on a Monday after just being interrupted by a girl with a bad attitude who just ruined a legitimate question with self promotion, my guard fell a little bit.

“You have the longest and best history?” I asked.

“Yes. Our history is the longest and best and other people should have to study us!” she replied.

“And let me ask you: just what have you done with your long and storied history? What have you accomplished with it? What have you given the world that would make it so that they would want to study what you’ve done with you looooong and rich history?”

She and the rest of the class had a mini discussion about this and then all sat quietly for a minute. I wasn’t going to let her off though because this one student has made it a point to generally bring her bad attitude to class with her every lesson. So I decided to make her answer my question. She simply responded with, “I guess nothing.”

Now, part of me wanted to feel victorious here and move on. Another part of me felt really bad. I know that Georgia does have a long and very rich history. I also know that they haven’t been able to translate that into much progress and historical “impact.” Not all of that is their fault either, but a lot of it is. This girl was simply a victim of interrupting the wrong teacher at the wrong time. I know when I’m at my best and when I’m not. And I am not my best during 1st period on a Monday. So, while I would like to apologize to that girl, I doubt I will since I’m pretty sure this next week will bring an equally asinine question which this time I will try to respond to in a more diplomatic manner.

So I’m going to make a little mention about the weather. December was great and January started off well enough. However the last week of January turned cold and February has been freezing! The sun is gone and the place is covered in snow. The one day it wasn’t snowing it was so windy that I had flashback to Kazakhstan and walking on the Siberian Steppe.

But, all this cold led me to one of life’s great pleasures. I love when I “discover” something that should have occurred to me years ago that seems so simple that I kick myself for not realizing it earlier. On the really cold days I break out those ‘hot hands’ packets and put them in my coat. Now they will last for about 10 hours. I only really need them between about 8am and 4pm when I get home. They still have hours of good heat left in them especially if you put them on top of the heater at home for about 15 minutes and get them ’charged’ back up. But why would I need them at this point? I’m home and relatively warm. Ah ha! With the new low in temperature during the day and since my floor is no longer getting sun during the day, my floors are really cold. Cue the light bulb over the head. After you recharge the hot hands packs, just stuff them down into the toes of your slippers! Warm feet for hours ahead! Now, as I said that may sound overly simple and obvious, but this week has been awesome walking around the house with toasty warm feet. I’ve even had to take the slippers off a few times to cool my feet off. I know. It’s dumb. But hey…

The only other thing I can think of is a movie update for you. I was super excited to the ‘The Rum Diary’ with Jonny D since it was supposed to be somewhat of a tribute to Hunter S. Thompson. I was a little disappointed though since Depp seemed to just act exactly the same as he did in ‘Fear and Loathing’ and the whole story didn’t seem to connect. The whole thing was just watered down in a way and while it did have a few great laughs, it just didn’t live up to my expectations.

So, with that said I’ll leave you with a quote from the movie that did have me laughing. The three main journalists are on their way to get their prize roster blessed by a witch so they can win some money in a cock fight to hopefully print one last edition of their newspaper:

“By day she drives a garbage truck. By night she becomes Papaneemu the hermaphroditic Oracle of the Dead.”

A Little Wilderness

January 31, 2012 Today’s weather is absolutely beautiful. I have to go out and take a walk. With the help of my GPS, I am determined to find the Monticello Park that is so loved by some of the locals. I found out this park through internet. It was these words that caught my attention: “Monticello Park, a stream valley with steep, wooded slopes, sits in the middle of a residential neighborhood in the heart of Alexandria. It is tiny, not much of a park ….yet, this park is, to the many of us who get it, a treasured place. We’re able to see much natural beauty still there.” I have to admit that walking can become an addiction. Having stayed inside for the past three days, I feel liberated the instant I start walking. Few minutes to my walk, I begin to realize that my neighborhood is quite hilly. Many streets are short but with steep climbing slope. The incline of one street is so abrupt that it is named the “Canyon Drive”. I love the sound of it already; perhaps before this neighborhood was build, this area was indeed a steep canyon. It takes me less than fifteen minutes to locate the park. By the entrance, there is an old post explaining this place is actually a “dog park”. Locals use this wooded area to walk their dogs. Immediately after the entrance, an old bridge becomes visible. A small stream is flowing underneath. In some areas, the water surface is covered with foam. I wish it was the crystal clear mountain stream water, just like the Stahahe brook in Harriman State Park. (See! I miss NY already) In spite of this distressing sight, I find the park is rather inviting. First it is the natural trail which twists and turns heading deep into the wood. The surrounding has an eerie feeling that makes me hesitating a few seconds before entering to the wood. (For a moment, I forget I am no longer in NY, the fear is just an instant reflect). Secondly, the forest is very quiet and the silent is interrupted only by the rustling noise of the dried maple leaves underneath my shoes. I can actually hear myself thinking. It is noon, everyone is still at work. I have the whole place for myself. The trail goes up and down making many unexpected sharp turns. At one point, I find myself standing on the top of a hill looking down to the stream. Next minute, I am down on the bottom of a “canyon” floor greeting by a small purple flower. The weather has been so warm lately that it confuses this little plant. I wonder what it is going to do when the actual Spring comes? As a matter of fact when Spring comes, with the help of the April rain, this place can transform into a charming oasis. I go on with more exploration, hoping that something will surprise me at the end of the wood, and it does! At the end of the trail, it is a big fence; a backyard with children’s toys! The park indeed is very small. It takes only ten minutes to walk through the area. I am disappointed. I turn around and go back to the wood, pretending that I am hiking on the RD trail of the Harriman State Park. An idea comes to me on my way back to the entrance. With these up and down slopes, I can use this place to train for the 26-mile hike. Next time when I return, I will definitely carry my heavy backpack. I enjoy this walk, the dirt path reminds me of the hiking trail I walked on thousands of times with my friends in Harriman…. I hope my NY friends will miss me, as I do miss them!

Happy Groundhog’s Day!  Happy birthday, Dad! I guess it’s appropriate I’m doing a blog about the stresses of winter today, since we we still have six weeks left to endure.  I’ve never before really emotionally understood the importance of spring holidays, … Continue reading →

Winter is nature's way of saying, "Up yours." ~Robert Byrne

Winter is that time that exist between Christmas and Spring. It is cold. It is wet. It is long and in short, it sucks.

Honestly, I thought I had dealt with some pretty cold winters having been from the Northeast. Silly, silly girl… I clearly didn’t have a clue. Winter in a mountainous reason of Eastern Europe is a whole new ballgame.

In my final placement interview during training, one thing I really wanted was to be somewhere with mountains. My program manager willingly obliged and off I went to Quba, with the Greater Caucasus Mountains practically in my backyard. I have had a chance to live in a region with such stunning backdrops to daily life.

My Street! This is grand and all, but then the snow set in. The first few days of excitement and snowball fights are now a distant memory.

The primary source of heating in most Azerbaijani homes is called a peҁ. It is a gas-based, sometimes wood burning metal contraption.

Peҁ in my Office

We have been without water (with the exception of last Thursday) for almost 2 weeks. Picture a peҁ with buckets of snow next to it, in an effort to melt it so that we can “shower” and wash the dishes and clothes… yes really. See below.

Washing my socks in melted snow water. My host mom (left)

Last Thursday I got to shower for the 1st time in 9 days! Haha I honestly am weirdly getting used to it, which does not bode well for my single-status. I sleep at night with Extreme Expedition Long Underwear underneath heavy pair sweatpants and sweatshirt with 2 pairs of wool socks, a hat, and gloves…In short I look like a homeless person.

It is here that I would like to make a dedication to my two most valuable possessions (see picture to the right).

1. My Peace Corps Issued Brown Monster (it’s not what you think) Sleeping Bag and...

2. My Grelka (Russian) Hot Water Bottle Heater (English)

Without these two things, I could not survive the winter here.

So that is my vent about winter in Azerbaijan. I am ready for it finish, but in the mean time I'm making the best of things.

This mix marks the 5th anniversary of my winter hip-hop mix, which strives to be a soundtrack for your snowed in day. I've been working on it for a couple months and think you'll really enjoy it. Its mostly hip-hop with a few random tracks to compliment the mood. So decide to not go outside today, and get warm and press play.

Download it HERE (or at soundcloud)

1. A$AP Rocky - Palace

2. Yelawolf - Stage Lights (remix)

3. M83 - Midnight City

4. Drake - Lord Knows ft/Rick Ross

5. PRoMete - Sus

6. Madonna - Sorry

7. Big K.R.I.T. - Free My Soul

8. AiD - Hisslǝr Danışanda ft/Ayka

9. The Weeknd - Wicked Games

10. Terius Nash - 1977 (Miss You Still)

P.S. to make room for this track on soundcloud, I had to remove 2K11 In Review. But, you can still download it HERE

Back stateside, many people are celebrating Black History Month. A month that honors heros, sheros, game changers and the like for their tireless and often graceful contribution to American Culture. Some would go as far to argue that there would be no American Culture without Black Culture but I'm not promoting a debate. I'm sure you have heard of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. but just like the slave trade wasn't the beginning of African American existence, Dr. King isn't the beginning of self-awareness, activism,eloquence or education. So part one of my mini-dedication to celebrate the many shades of greatness goes to :

Steve Bantu Biko

Steve Bantu Biko. Photo Courtesy of HereHe is the man who coined "Black is Beautiful". Once a medical student, turned founder of the Black Consciousness Movement, Biko is credited for being a champion in the Anti-Apartheid revolution in South Africa. He stretched the philosophy of "I think therefore I am" by planting it in the minds of blacks that one must rid themselves of believing that they are inferior to another race. Hence the slogan Black is Beautiful, an attempt and turning point within the anti-apartheid resistance. This changed the way African Americans saw themselves after many years of being depicted and brainwashed to believe that they are sub-par human. A son of the Eastern Cape, South Africa, Steve Biko died at the hands of police brutality in September of 1977. He was only 32 years young.

Please take a look at this clip where Biko discusses removing racial divide and hierarchy.

Source: Source 1 Source 2

I’m starting to get back into the swing of things. My clubs are starting again and my counterparts have all sorts of ideas again. It’s funny how one week, I can be sitting around staring at the walls the whole time and then the next week all of the sudden have a million things to do [...]

Doing business in a foreign country has some challenges, but foreigners often have challenges understanding and doing business with Americans as well. Often this is due to misunderstandings rooted in cultural values and differences.

Some years ago, Bill’s company did business with a factory in Japan. Bill very wisely decided that he and I should take some Japanese lessons, to learn how to communicate ever so slightly, but thereby show honor and respect to the Japanese factory representatives, and to learn about the business culture in Japan. Indeed, the officers of the Japanese company were pleasantly surprised, because we were the first Americans with whom they had done business, who bothered to learn how to speak (albeit very little) Japanese. We also learned that in their society, as in many other societies, it is more important to follow certain social norms of politeness, say pleasing things to guests, and always imply “yes” out of respect. It can be considered insulting to outright say “no” to guests (even if a “no” is exactly what is meant). Understanding this turns out to be very important, if one does not want to end up very disappointed because of not just a language misunderstanding, but also a cultural misunderstanding. It did not happen to Bill, but one of the other American companies which also dealt with this Japanese firm had exactly one such disappointment. The American salesman was pleased that in his meeting with the Japanese company representatives, it seemed all was O.K. for a signed deal for a big order that he felt had been negotiated; the Japanese had smiled, shook hands, nodded “yes,” and the American went home, very pleased with himself. Once home, he found out that he did not have a deal at all, and that no contract was going to be signed. He was angry and felt deceived. Lesson learned: in many cultures around the world, it considered too impolite to say “no” directly to a request from someone; within the society, one might well-understand and accept this, so that one does not necessarily expect that which, out of politeness, was only superficially implied. People in parts of Asia, as well as in this region of the world, realize that “saving face,” being polite, and not out-right refusing someone by saying directly “no” is so important, that people here are not necessarily offended or surprised, when an arrangement doesn’t materialize, as an American might expect. An American business person might take such offense and even exclaim that he/she was lied to—but this attitude makes American business people in return seem ruthless, heartless, and certainly not in tune with the fine nuances of being polite. Ah…lots to learn.

We’ve been trained to expect and show understanding for these cultural differences, but the challenge is great, when it happens to you personally. Some months ago, I thought some local friends had arranged for a taxi ride for me for an agreed upon price. They told me, each time I pressed for a definite commitment, oh, Mary, don’t worry, it will work out--this taxi will take you and charge you what you are expecting. Day came…the taxi was not arranged for, at least not for what I thought was the agreed price. Quickly, I had to make other plans. Culturally, it was simply not polite to flat-out tell me “no,” when I ask specifically, and it was considered culturally appropriate for them to help the taxi driver (a neighbor) also “save-face.”

One obvious cultural difference here is also the concept of individual privacy that we Americans value. This is very prevalent at the ATM’s, which is how most everyone here gets paid—money is deposited into one’s account, and once a month one draws it out in cash; since this is totally a cash society (outside of Baku), everything must be paid for in cash, no credit cards. So, as one is accessing his or her account at the ATM, half a dozen or more people may crowd around, watching, even offering to help enter the pin numbers! I think the idea is, some people are just too slow, and it would speed things up, if the individual would just get some friendly help from one of those watching and waiting, huddled around at the ATM machine; they truly hover over people who are at the machine, and the concept of waiting in line or queuing up does not exhibit itself very often. Personally, it makes me uncomfortable—and I have had people ask if they could ‘help’ me enter my information and pin! I huddle close to the key-board, and certainly do my own info and pin entering, but I have seen some others gratefully accept this help, unconcerned about this as possibly an invasion of privacy or worse, identity theft.

This is country of very gracious people, well-known for their hospitality, especially to guests, and as a foreigner, great kindness has been shown to me. However, uncommon for an American are all the personal questions one is asked, and from an American point of view, sometimes bordering on an invasion of privacy. For example, a stranger, or someone I just met, might ask me right off the bat how old I am, what my family status is, how much do I weigh (!), and many other personal questions about myself, my family, my living conditions, etc. But these kinds of questions imply here a kind of compliment, because they indicate that you are interesting, interesting enough to warrant further information. And, furthermore, as an American, I draw an inordinate amount of attention and curiosity. I am frequently greeted by people on the street, by name even and by people I do not even know, because I have become somewhat well-known, and, well, I definitely look foreign—so I am an object of curiosity. However, even understanding this, I cannot help but sometimes feel the curiosity goes too far…like the time recently, when my personal letters and sensitive mail from Peace Corps were delivered to my work and were opened, taken out of their envelopes, examined and read. I realize even the educated people at the university where I work curiously find me extra-ordinarily interesting (or perhaps even view me with some suspicion). But even here an invasion of private mail and sensitive correspondence is probably not acceptable! And further, the explanation that I was given—‘they were all opened by mistake’—was also not very satisfactory, since that was simply not true (from my American point of view, a lie even); all the mail was clearly address to me, Peace Corps Volunteer, it was impossible to have been a ‘mistake.’ Sometimes it is almost too challenging to accept the fact that such an ‘explanation’ is meant to save-face and protect the perpetrator, whose curiosity could be locally considered understandable, even if such curiosity was also too great. Protecting the communal values does supersede the independence and individual rights that we Americans come to expect… It is particularly challenging to know when to accept with understanding the cultural differences, and when such differences are outright unacceptable. This challenge is especially great in developing countries where knowledge of the outside world and Western cultural values may be somewhat limited, and therefore mutual understanding cannot be expected. To succeed personally, or on a business level, and even on a diplomatic level, it is often necessary to extend an inordinate amount of tolerance and understanding for cultural differences. But also know when things have gone too far. Opening and examining sensitive and personal mail from Peace Corps qualifies as the latter, I think.

Of course the main way I conduct business on a daily basis is at the bazar—the outdoor markets, where just about everything is sold. Bartering for price is the norm, and even though, thanks to my great language tutor, I can express myself in the bartering process, it still feels odd—prices are never marked, because you are supposed ask the price and then negotiate down from there. It takes some getting used to. Some more interesting views of the markets, etc:

Random cow and geese on my street Apple truck in the apartment housing area...bringing the produce to the buyer At the Butcher's...hooves on the table and hanging from hooks on far left, head on ground by pole lower right, the rest hanging in the middle Shopping Washington State apples...well, they're Delicious at any rate

For three days, I unpacked all the boxes, dragged furniture from one corner to another, arranged and rearranged them until I was pleased, hang up my favorable pictures and paintings, placed my plants at the right spot to catch the precious sun. (Unlike my NY apartment, my new place does not have a balcony; it is going to be hard to keep my plants happy). Then, I began to clean. First, I scrubbed, bleached and wiped the bathtub until it is spotless clean. HY will be so proud of what I did. He is going to enjoy the bubble bath at my place. Then, I mopped the wood floor, waxed it with oil and polished it with a dry clean cloth. I love how it feels when I walk on it with my bared foot. Here are few pictures to show my hard work: Every night I went to bed exhausted. By the end of the 3rd day, both my arms were hurting badly so I had to take a break. Tomorrow, I am going to take a long walk around my neighborhood.

The capital of Azerbaijan, Baki, is the biggest, richest, and most cosmopolitan city in the country, so its no surprise that it produces the majority of known rap in the country. But that doesn't mean it holds a monopoly on Azerbaijani beats and flow. Ganja (technically its Gǝncǝ, don't get too excited) is the second largest city and has a burgeoning arts scene (illustrated partially by an awesome Open Mic project by two PCVs) that has been producing some of its own rappers.

Rǝhmǝn Atǝş and RG have produced a solid mixtape featuring numerous as-not-seen-in-Baki rappers. Intro track Söz Qǝplǝri begins with an air raid alarm (which is basically like an arrow through my hip-hop heart) and standard name checks and barrels ahead over a NES inspired beat.

Elşan ft Rǝhmǝn Atǝş - Söz Qǝplǝri (which loosely translates to 'Word Bombs')

Previous Hip-Hop from the Land of Fire: Klan-A-Plan

While American food, or I guess I should just say food in America, is delicious, I do believe that my body is rejecting it. Actually. Let’s be real. My body is rejecting America right now. I’ve enjoyed Chinese food, Mexican … Continue reading →

Week 65 – 12/11-17/2011: Bujag, Oguz, and Balaken

Temperatures have been bitterly cold. Heavy snow has already fallen on multiple occasions. It hasn’t exactly been baseball weather. Almost immediately following the final softball tournament, winter weather had arrived in Azerbaijan. There was no other choice but to put away the bats, balls, and gloves until the birds began chirping in the spring. Then again, the decision was never really up to me. Despite the cold weather, the children of Oguz still have an insatiable desire to play the game they love. I have received text messages on days with freezing weather and a foot of snow on the ground asking if we could play baseball. I told myself I would stay strong; baseball season would not begin again until March. But they just kept asking. Finally, with not too miserable weather on Sunday, I caved. The turnout wasn’t huge, but for those who came, enthusiasm proved to be as high as it had ever been. The children shook off what little rust they had, braved the cold, painful stings of the bat, and ripped the ball all over the diamond as if it were the middle of June. Who needs an off-season? In Oguz, baseball never stops. * * * As the end of the semester nears, work exhaustion is definitely beginning to set it. All of a sudden, everything to do with teaching English has become painfully boring and tedious. Not only have I been less cheery in class, but I have also begun – however guiltily – to hope my students would not show up to conversation clubs. Not my kids, though. In Bujag, conversation clubs are more packed than ever, illustrating just how ungrateful my desires had been. Tuesday, I was given a grateful reminder of just how lucky I am. Feeling particularly lethargic, I slept-walked through my first conversation club and was ready to half-ass my second one when something brought me back to life. Working on the vocabulary of personality traits, I asked the children to describe the character of their favorite person. Calling on a young 8th Form boy, he stated that Kevin Teacher was his favorite person, then proceeded to rattle off a long list of favorable personal qualities. I blushed and laughed as he went down the list, eventually cutting him off and accusing him of being a brown-nose. “All right, all right. That’s enough, Khayal.” Apparently, though, the other students wanted him to continue, and Madina, Bujag’s all-star English student, spoke up in his defense. “But, Kevin Teacher, Khayal is not brown-nose. I think I speak for everyone when say that you are our favorite person.” After she translated for the students who could not understand, the kids all vigorously nodded in agreement with smiles as contagious as a the plague. And there I was, at once thankful for having made some sort of impact on these kids’ lives and embarrassed that I had ever even briefly wished they wouldn’t show up to club. So often I hear about how PCVs have difficulty in simply getting children to come to their activities, especially when the weather is cold. I have never had this problem. Whether they speak English well or not, a very large group of Bujag students are loyal conversation club attendees. The fact that I would hope for even a second for this enthusiasm to disappear is the epitome of selfishness. I have taken for granted the excitement of my village. My situation is one to truly be grateful for. Hopefully, never again will it take an act of humorous, ass-kissing flattery from my students to remind me of this. With a shot of enthusiasm, I was able to finish out the workweek on an energetic note and transition into the festive weekend that awaited me. With the AZ-9s having recently arrived at their respective sites and the holidays quickly approaching, a recently returned Allie and I headed up to Balaken to join the PCVs of Azerbaijan’s middle finger (Balaken, Zagatala, Qakh, Sheki, and Oguz) for the seasonal festivities. Gathering at a restaurant in town, we drank bad wine, listened to Justin Bieber Christmas music, and stuffed our faces with fried khengel (fried dumplings with salted ground beef inside). * * * “Kevin, do you think you can finish it?” “Oh, I’ll make myself finish! It hurts like hell, but I’m gonna make myself finish.” As I sat in that Balaken restaurant with a bulging gut and greasy fingers, I looked across the table to see how Stephan was doing. Like me, the new PCV from Sheki was trying to eat 40 fried khengel. Unlike me, he didn’t seem to be struggling in the least bit. As he neared the magic number, his looks of discomfort and pain seemed contrived, as if only displayed so as to not make me feel bad for the struggle that I was enduring. As I fought to swallow my 36th delectable dumpling, Stephan polished off his 40th. Whether I wanted to or not, I now had no choice but to finish. I couldn’t let an AZ-9 put me to shame. So, with a swig of some particularly disgusting homemade wine and the sweet sounds of The Biebs in the background, I dipped the remaining four dumplings in some ketchup and shoved them into my mouth. While the final two stayed tucked in my cheeks for a solid five minutes, I had downed my 40 khengel. The 2011 Middle Finger Holiday Fest had uncomfortably begun.It was worth it. After dinner, the PCV bunch headed to Trey’s house for an evening of holiday cheer. With a festive rendition of “The 12 Days of Christmas,” a Yankee-swap gift exchange, and a few games that may or may not have had any relation to the holidays, the holiday season was underway, Peace Corps style.12 Days of Christmas

** Quote by Jim Rohn

Thank you to those of you who took the time to read the" Deep Experience is Never Peaceful" blog.

I realized after receiving some concerned emails, that the overall feeling of the blog may have been perceived as being a little down. I did not mean to alarm anyone. I simply wanted to give a real sense of the difficulties volunteers and specifically me, are facing in our service.

Serving as a Peace Corps volunteer is an incredible chance to help make the change we so often only speak about. There are really great moments, and then some not so great moments.

Overall though, I wanted everyone reading to stop and take a minute to think about the things we so often take for granted. These are the things I am missing the most. Some of you may have also found it slightly ironic that I decided to re-post the Package Wish list right after this blog…purely accidental, of course ;)

Dedicated to the men and women serving (or having served) as a Peace Corps Volunteer.

I've been thinking recently about how much I have to be proud of. How thankful I am to have been given this opportunity to serve in the Peace Corps and, what's more, to serve in Azerbaijan. Not only have I been reflecting on the pride I have in my own service, but I've also been reflecting on how proud I am to be sharing my service with a group of volunteers who continually impress me.

Although my fellow volunteers and I serve in the same country, much of our experiences and our challenges are different. Certainly, there is a great deal in common, but amongst ourselves we experience hardships that are our own. There are struggles with diversity. Struggles with gender. Struggles with sexuality. There are struggles with cultural expectations to look and act a certain way. There are struggles with basic amenities. With adjusting to life. Struggles with our coworkers, both American and Azeri. The way we meet our struggles differ. Some of us speak out (loudly) and others choose to struggle alone. This Peace Corps life hands us challenges we expected and challenges we never could have guessed.

We are a family here; with all the good and the bad. We talk frequently amongst ourselves about the comings and goings. We hear about one another and about what people are doing. We judge and gasp at gossip. But more importantly, no, most importantly, I honestly believe we constantly work at supporting one another; both in the work we're trying to accomplish and in the daily struggles.

I have friendships here with Americans that I'm certain will carry through into my "next life" (the one that doesn't involve inadequate heating and rats, inshallah). I am constantly impressed with the work other volunteers are doing-- their stories, their triumphs and their challenges. I am deeply inspired with their constant ability to overcome and meet challenges head on and to continually move forward despite setbacks (both big and small).

There is an incredible group of people here, with a wide breadth of personal and professional experience. They are conquerors. They came to a new country. Learned a new language. Moved to a new community. Made friendships with new people. They work and they work and they work. They touch the lives of other people (some in ways they'll never know). They lose their way, question their abilities (and their service) and somehow find their way back again. They are conquerors.

Throughout our service we have (completely understandable) moments where we lose ourselves, but we're lucky. We have each other. We have people who help pull us back up, brush the dirt off our pants (or egg off our faces) and plant our feet back in the direction we initially intended. We are supported and we are loved.

I'm just so very proud to know these people. Their strengths. Their abilities. And so I say thank you to my fellow Peace Corps Volunteers. For your service, your friendship and all the many things you are.

I'm not saying I know what it's like to live through a zombie apocalypse, but there is one thing I can easily imagine identifying with: a scarcity of hot showers. At the risk of overgeneralizing and speaking for everyone, I'm going to go out on a limb and say that the way Peace Corps Volunteers feel about hot, on-demand showery goodness is probably how you would feel about them if you were to survive a zombie apocalypse for any longer than a month (or maybe less).

In general, we Peace Corps Volunteers in Azərbaycan are luckier than most in terms of access to basic utilities like electricity, water, and gas, which powers the stoves (I've seen no electric ranges) and has been the most reliable of the three in my experience thus far. (I think there would be a real Tea Party revolution here if people had no way to boil water to make çay.) However, hot showers (in which category I include crouching under a waist high faucet, as long as there's hot water pouring from it) can still be difficult to come by, and the reaction of Morgan and Duane in this scene from AMC's excellent adaptation of The Walking Dead pretty well sums up any given Peace Corps Volunteer's feelings about hot, like-manna-from-heaven showers.

Intro

I didn't have time to post about my Site Visit in a meaningful way during Pre-Service Training, so I'll do it now.[The Site Visit helps prepare Peace Corps Trainees for service by providing a first-hand look at the lives of actively serving Peace Corps Volunteers ("PCVs") and the opportunity to learn from their experiences.]

From Sunday, October 16, 2011 to Thursday, October 20, 2011, I traveled to and stayed in the city of Ağcabədi, eponymous capital of the rayon (or "region"), with AZ7s Jeff (CED) and his wife Shira (TEFL). As you can see on the map, Ağcabədi is located roughly in the "palm" of Azərbaycan, slightly south of center. (In this visual metaphor commonly used among PCVs, think of Azərbaycan as a right hand with the palm facing you. The Abşeron peninsula (where Bakı is) that sticks out into the Caspian is the "thumb." The protrusion along the south coast is the "wrist," the one along the northern coast is the "first finger," etc. If you keep going, you'll notice there are really only 3 "fingers," so it's not a human hand, but apparently that of a Disney cartoon character.)Culturally, Ağcabədi is also fairly "central," in the sense that it is considered more traditional and conservative than other places in the country (such as the north / big cities (namely Bakı, Gəncə, Sumqayıt, and Mingəçevir)). Unlike in the U.S., this conservatism is not necessarily political or religious but rather manifests itself in a relatively strong version of a post-Soviet mindset characterized by a general underdevelopment of critical thinking / intellectual curiosity and perhaps even a propensity not to see the value of these concepts. This is not to say that there aren't exceptions, because I met several people who broke this mold, but it is to say that the overall culture has almost certainly resulted in, per capita, many fewer exceptions here than you would find in, say, Bakı or Gəncə. However, the people were as welcoming and hospitable as Azərbaycanis are reputed to be and were, in general, more polite. Even during my short visit, I noticed less verbal harassment and more respectful behavior from strangers on the street. Not including staring. Always with the staring.

In the gardenGetting there

If you don't have your own car (maşın), there are two ways to get to Ağcabədi: taxi and marşrutka. Marşrutkas are minivans that are frequently packed to the gills with passengers (and perhaps a goat or a chicken), cost 6 AZN, and take about 4.5 to 5 hours to get there from the Yeni Avtovagzal* (New Bus Station) near Bakı. I've been told that taxis from the İyirmi Yanvar roundabout in Bakı cost about 10 AZN per person but take only about 3.5 hours.

* The term Azərbaycani term "avtovagzal" for bus station may have come from London's Vauxhall station by way of Russia. The story is that a delegation of Russians visited the station in central London to see how it was being built and mistook the "Vauxhall" for the general term for "railway station." This was transliterated into the Russian "vokzal" for a major railway station, which passed into Azərbaycani during the Soviet era and the prefix "avto" was added to distinguish bus stations.

Since it was my first time to travel unchaperoned between cities, it was easier to take a marşrutka from the 'vagzal than to try to find the right taxi at 20 Yanvar (it's a madhouse, I tell you, a madhouse) and negotiate the fare with my rudimentary language skills.

As one should always do when traveling in the 'Baycan, I went to the bathroom before we left. Unfortunately, my timing presumed (incorrectly, as it turned out) that the bus would leave on time at 9 a.m. When intercity buses are not sufficiently full, they will wait until they are before departing, which meant that we didn't leave until about 10:15 a.m. and, more importantly, that my bathroom schedule was way off. Luckily, the bus stops halfway through the trip at a rest stop; however, the discomfort of those last 30 minutes cannot be overstated, especially since the road is fairly bumpy (I was sitting above the rear axle), the usual stuffiness was made extra robust by the driver's smoking, and, by this point, a woman of large stature had fallen asleep on me.And so it was with great relief that I got out at the rest stop. After taking care of business, as I stretched my legs in the parking lot, one of those seemingly ubiquitous Lada's with fruit in the back window pulled up in the space next to the bus. Opening the rear driver's side door, the driver pulled out a crate of what looked like a bunch of lamb's wool buffing pads for waxing a car.

Close. It was a lamb.

at the rest stopA guy came out from the çayxana (teahouse), spoke with the driver for a while, and, apparently satisfied with the terms, took the lamb out of the crate, leaving it in the patch of grass between the sidewalk and the patio as he disappeared into the building. He soon reappeared with a knife - You can probably tell where this is going, so if you're squeamish, skip ahead and don't look too carefully at the picture - [highlight with your cursor to keep reading]and proceeded to slaughter and dress the lamb right there, first removing the head and feet, then hanging it up to skin it. I'm not squeamish, so the fact of all this didn't bother me. I was more surprised by the public location that raised, in my mind, some health code issues. The weird part is that the seller/driver stuck around. We left before he finished, but I think maybe the deal was that seller got to keep the wool or something. Exploring Ağcabədi

First, let me say that my expectations for Ağcabədi were fairly low. When I told my host family, neighbors, and friends where other trainees were going for their site visits, the reactions were something along the lines of:

"Oh, Zaqatala - the mountains are beautiful!"

"Mingəçevir - very nice and clean city, and you can swim in the reservoir!"

"Lənkəran - beautiful and delicious tea and citrus!"

When I told people (only one of whom had ever actually been there) I was going to Ağcabədi for my site visit, I was met with blank stares, looks of pity, jokes about being so close to the Nagorno-Karabakh border (complete with thumb-and-forefinger gun gestures and "pew-pew" sound effects), or (in the most favorable review from someone who had family there) "it's not the worst."

A) Lazy road construction crew, or

B) environmentally friendly vehicular speed reduction device?Nevertheless, I had a great time in Ağcabədi for two reasons. First, the city was not the backwater, podunk town that I had been led to expect. Second, I had great hosts.

The terrain was surprisingly green, criss-crossed by irrigation canals and patches of grass where farmers stake their cows for grazing. It felt a little like parts of the countryside in northern Louisiana, but not as lush. There weren't a lot of trees, and the ones that I saw were not too big or tall, perhaps due to the generally dry climate and irrigation issues. Maybe this is why they didn't cut down the tree in the pic to the left but rather paved around it. Or maybe it was just an obstacle to slow down the crazy drivers.

Generally, Ağcabədi appeared to be organized much like many Azərbaycani cities, with one main road, along which you might find the avtovagzal, some shops, the Heydar Aliyev park, and some nicely appointed government buildings. Off of this main road are little neighborhoods, which seemed to get more and more spread out the farther away you get from the center of Ağcabədi since there's so much land and agriculture. (The area is known for it's livestock and pomegranate ("nar"). However, nearby Goyçay is home of Nar Fest every fall.)

rental house (L); main house (R)After Jeff met me near the 'vagzal, we stopped for some kebab (and çay, of course) at a nearby restaurant, and, indeed, the quality of the meat lived up to its reputation. Then we went home to drop off my things and prepare dinner.

Jeff and Shira's rental was a one-room guest house next to the landlady's main house, which shared a separate tualet enclosure. They had their own kitchen on the semi-enclosed patio, and the shower was in the main house. The tap water was drinkable, and the water tank was huge, providing plenty of running water for the day.

I don't remember exactly what we ate that night. It might have been the chili, but all the meals we had during my short visit were very tasty ("çox dadlı"). In the event that I end up moving out on my own, I hope I can even approach the quality and creativity of Jeff's and Shira's cooking. Great company and great food. If that isn't nice, I don't know what is.

Work

AIMThe next day, I accompanied Jeff to his primary host organization, the Agro Informasiya Mərkəzi ("AIM"), where his work included facilitating the procurement of equipment for conservation agriculture, delivering presentations regarding soil fertility and agro-forestry, and conducting professional training. Jeff also devised community projects, such as a cycling club, conversation clubs, tutoring, and academic counseling, and worked with other organizations like HEKS-EPER, which seeks to improve market conditions for low-income farmers. In addition, Jeff conducted research on chestnut blight for his Master’s International Program.

Bike ClubBefore anyone gets their expectations up about what I'll accomplish while I'm here, I should note that Jeff was a rock-star PCV (not literally. Although we do have a couple of those.). For example, both times that I heard then-Ambassador Matthew Bryza speak in person, he specifically cited Jeff as an example of the important work that Peace Corps accomplishes. Of course, I aspire to do as much as I can while I'm here, but consider your expectations managed.

Master’s International Research: Chestnut Blight

Although Jeff initially thought that AIM would be at the center of his research for his Master’s International Program, it soon became apparent that he would have to look elsewhere. Mostly by word of mouth, he became aware of the chestnut blight issue in Azərbaycan. Chestnut ("şabalıd") blight hit Europe in the 1940s, beginning in Italy, and spread out in roughly concentric circles, reaching Azərbaycan in the last five or six years. Because it's relatively new here, it was a perfect opportunity for Jeff to conduct field interviews and specimen collection to help researchers fight its spread.

Interviewing and Gender

Jeff's researchSome of the communities in which Jeff spoke to farmers were extremely traditional and conservative, so that he was able to speak only with the men and never the women. As Jeff described it, the women would bring tea to the threshold of the door to the living room, where they would somehow silently signal their presence to the men, in some way that Jeff could not perceive, and the men would take it from the threshold to the table. In order to obtain participation from female interview subjects, Jeff traveled to the ethnic minority Avar communities in the north, where it was culturally acceptable for husbands and wives to be interviewed together.

HEKS-EPER

HEKS-EPER (Hilfswerk der Evangelischen Kirchen Schweiz—Entraide Protestante Suisse) is a Swiss NGO, with which Jeff became acquainted through its partnership with AIM and whose professionals he incorporated into his initiatives. HEKS’s primary project in Azərbaycan is to improve market conditions for low-income dairy farmers, which is funded by the Swiss Agency for Development and Cooperation (SDC, the Swiss equivalent of USAID) and implemented according to the M4P methodology (Making Markets Work for the Poor) with additional focus on Disaster Risk Reduction (e.g., erosion and irrigation issues) and Gender Equality.

kitchen ("mətbəx") & patio dining

HEKS-EPER's office is in a beautiful building with polished hardwood floors and tall ceilings. When we sat down to talk, however, I heard this weirdly quiet crackling, like the muffled sound of Rice Krispies. I was told that it was the sound of termites. Sadly, this might well be seen as an appropriate metaphor. Even when things look great on the outside, there may be forces at work just under the surface that, if unchecked, would threaten the stability of the existing infrastructure.

HEKS-EPER's approach is an interesting comparison to that of Peace Corps. By way of a very brief background, the continuum of development approaches available to an aid organization might be summarized like this:

TO - deciding what a community needs without their input and simply doing the project "to" the communityFOR - facilitating a community's own determination of what it needs (or deciding what a community needs with their input) and doing it for themWITH - facilitating a community's own determination of what it needs and working with the community to accomplish itBY - this is the end goal, where a community has learned the tools to develop and implement its own projects

Peace Corps' primarily aims to work WITH communities in order to reach the BY phase, where communities can sustain projects on their own. However, PC recognizes that any given Peace Corps Volunteer may need to employ TO and FOR approaches sometimes, for example, to establish credibility and trust within a community.

bedroom / living room / dining room / guest room / parlorBased on my limited information, it would appear that HEKS-EPER also uses a combination of TO, FOR, and WITH approaches but without the long-term goal of empowering communities to design and carry out projects BY themselves.

After an approximately eight-month inception phase of research, analysis, and interviews with the community, HEKS-EPER selected the dairy industry as the area where it could achieve the greatest practical impact. HEKS-EPER aims to improve market conditions for low-income farmers by concentrating on three areas: (i) veterinary services; (ii) artificial insemination; and (iii) livestock feed. HEKS-EPER does not work directly with farmers but does work with vendors to improve the quality of products and services and systems of distribution in each of these strategic areas.

For example, gender barriers cause significant under-use of veterinary services by rural farms. The men are frequently away from home during the day, and because it is culturally unacceptable for women to be alone with men who are not part of the family, veterinarians (who are almost always men) cannot visit the farm to tend to the cows during normal working hours. As a result, many health issues go unattended, negatively impacting production capacity. HEKS-EPER is helping to address this issue by training female veterinary assistants, who will be able to visit farms tended by female farmers during the day, and generally improving the quality of veterinary training in the region.

Dairy Factory

One challenge for HEKS’ efforts to improve the dairy market will surely be Atena’s operation of a high-tech dairy processing plant (completed) and dairy barn (under construction), which I was fortunate enough to tour during my visit. The dairy factory features state-of-the art pasteurization technology, on-site container fabrication, quality control lab, and automated packaging, all of which is connected to a nationwide cold-chain system that begins with the delivery of raw milk to the factory and ends at point-of-sale distribution in retail shops (which may or may not stay cold depending on whether electricity is continuous).

Our tour began with donning white lab coats and hair nets. After passing through an air lock, we sanitized our hands at one station, went through a turnstile, stood on a grate that brushed and sanitized the bottoms of our shoes, and finally slipped on some blue shoe covers. Inside was an impressive operation, gleaming with stainless steel and filled with the gentle hum of smoothly running machinery and conveyor belts, which could all be controlled remotely from a central control room.

Unfortunately, neither Jeff nor I had the presence of mind to take pictures (I'm not even sure it would have been allowed), but click here for a picture of President Aliyev visiting the same factory. And here are some more pics of the President's visit to Ağcabədi (scroll through to pix 40-47 for more pictures of the President at the factory).

Reportedly, the factory has the capacity to process more than a couple hundred thousand liters of milk per day. Local dairy farmers, however, generally produce milk only at subsistence levels and could probably provide Atena with maybe 5% (at most) of its production capacity, even if the quality were acceptable. Accordingly, Atena is said to be importing milk from numerous international sources, but still operates well below full capacity. When the dairy barn project is complete, it is anticipated to meet the supply demanded by the factory's daily production capacity. One agronomist opined that farmers’ cooperatives would be critical to helping local farmers improve their position in the future. This can only be more true as Atena ramps up production at the barn and factory.

After the tour, Jeff and I walked back to the city center, which was a good one and half hour trek through the countryside, and just one of many similar walks that we took. I never really noticed the time though because we had a lot of things to discuss, and the conversation was always good.

I also tagged along to a couple of Shira's conversation clubs (it's like two site visits for the price of one!) and visited a number of other people. Suffice it to say that I had a great site visit to Ağcabədi, thanks to Jeff and Shira's hospitality and general awesomeness.

I just returned from a week of traveling, first to Baku for our Mid Service Conference and afterwards to Ganja (about 6 hours west of Baku) for the final Teacher Training. Whereas last January I savored and extended every moment away from site and, this time around I was more than ready to turn my footsteps towards the city I've called home for the past 13 months. Its been a long and anxious and awesome 13 months and this conference gave the entire AZ8 volunteer community a time to stop, pause, and reflect.

Basically MSC had two main goals: reflecting back and looking forward, the intro year is over and the final year begins. It was pretty powerful to hear what volunteers had accomplished in this past year, not specifically because it was so large or influential (not to say it wasn't), but because it was 60 variations of the same story I am in the middle of acting out as well. Simply seeing the developed confidence in each one of us was affecting, whereas in PST we had questions about every possible obstacle that might be presented to us, this conference saw a group of individuals far more confident and assured in their ability to handle whatever Azerbaijan might throw at us.

We also shifted our thoughts to the future. In this conference, the fact our service will draw to a close begins to look inevitable rather than impossible and we shift out thoughts to how we can ensure something of us is left behind. One of my managers at Apple, as I was preparing to leave as smoothly as possible, pressed me to think what the legacy is that I would be leaving, how people would remember me after I had left. I think of those conversations a lot right now.

Currently the bulk of my effort goes to training teachers in more effective methods, and a project involving delivering training sessions around the country finished this past week. It succeeded in delivering content to teachers but it always required an American to be involved and run it; it wasn't sustainable. Kelly (another volunteer and my partner in this project) and I will soon begin our second project, one that we hope will contribute to our legacy.

We're hoping this will change this next year. Beginning in March we will hold workshops around the country on how to deliver a Teacher Training on Interactive Methods, a Training of Trainers workshop, which will cover certain methods, lesson design, and presentation skills. Even better, the Azerbaijani English Teachers Association (AzETA) is partnering with us to deliver these workshops. The goal is that, come November, we will have created a network of Americans and Azerbaijani teachers around the country capable of delivering teacher trainings in their own community, thus extending the reach and encouraging greater participation and empowerment among host country nationals. I wouldn't expect this project, after one year, to be completely sustainable, but it is a step in the right direction and I would leave Azerbaijan feeling proud of having helped shift focus to a strategy of teacher training more friendly to Azeri involvement.

In my first year I was fumbling around looking for a purpose to be working towards. Now in my second year I'll be racing to achieve my goals before I must leave. Just like these past 16 months, there will be ups and downs, but this year, I know where I'm going.

In Minnesota I dreaded the last week in January because of the bitter below-zero temperatures. The memory of starting my ice-cold car on such frigid mornings makes me shiver even now. Baku had blowing snow while I was there last week and it seemed so Minnesota-like - except for the poor snow removal and lack of salt or sand on sidewalks.

All week Peace Corps held a Mid-Service Conference for the AZ8's as well as our annual medical and dental check-ups. It was great to meet up with other PCVs, see some city sites, eat at real restaurants, and stay at a hotel. One afternoon I walked with another PCV through the historic old city of Baku where there is a fair trade shop, Enchanted Cottage, which sells items made in Azerbaijan.In the foreground are buildings in the old city but the background shows one of 3 modern office towers under construction. The old city covers a large area with many shops, hotels, and restaurants within it's walls plus historic sites such as the Maiden Tower.PCV Elaine and I stopped for coffee at the 5-star Meridian Hotel and took photos from the fifth floor restaurant balcony. We wondered if there was an effective historic preservation organization, since so many older buildings are being torn down or new facades added. It's one thing to have modern facilities, but another to tear down traditional and historic structures.By nightfall, we walked to the metro station near the old city for a 10 minute subway trip back to our hotel. The entrance to this particular station appears to be a copy of the I.M.Pei design outside The Louve in Paris. No one stopped us from taking photos, and night time felt very safe.But just to stay grounded about poverty in this oil-rich country, I'm adding a photo of a house across the road from my house in Digah village. The tarp is not a temporary fix; it has been there since last July. I personally think there are people in Baku who have no idea that their countrymen live in such conditions, Hopefully, in time, better education and income will help this family improve their living conditions. Inshallah - God willing.

Week 64 – 12/4-10/2011: Ganja, Bujag, Sumgait, and Baku

“Kevin, you don’t have to finish it,” Sarah said tenderly. “It doesn’t make you any less of a man.” “Yes it does!” Trey defiantly exclaimed. Looking down at the bowl of cow hooves and stomach, I wanted badly to agree with the young German girl who was stroking my ego. It had been bad enough that I had to wake up at 7:00am after a long night of beer and hookah to eat such a disgusting meal; the prospect of having to finish it simply added to the torture. As Trey continued chirping, though, I became convinced that only a real man finishes his morning Khash. And so, throwing back another shot of vodka, I forced myself to suffer through the rest of the deplorable meal. How a breakfast of the undesirable parts of a cow and vodka became a part of the culture, I will never understand. At least I managed to save my manhood.Cow hoof. * * * As the year began its final few weeks, something else was also nearing its end: Pre-Service Training. For the past two-and-a-half months, the Peace Corps Trainees (PCTs) have endured the onslaught of language training, technical training, and cultural adjustment to prepare for life as a Peace Corps Volunteer. This week, the day finally came when they were sworn in as volunteers. Wanting to be there to welcome them to the volunteer community, I headed into Sumgait after classes on Tuesday to attend the final hub day. As part of an effort to welcome the new group, several AZ-8s came to the final hub day to deliver presentations about the various PCV committees. One of the advantages of serving in a small country like Azerbaijan is the opportunity to collaborate with fellow volunteers on interregional projects. Here, such projects include ABLE (Azerbaijani Boys Leadership Experience) Camp, GLOW (Girls Leading Our World) Camp, the Health Network, the Environmental Committee, Writing Olympics, a newly formed Frisbee League, and, of course, the Azerbaijan Interregional Softball League. After months full of procedure, logistics, and regulations, I am sure the PCTs were glad to finally be presented with something that can help incorporate their interests into their service. Given the activity at the softball table, it looks like many will be looking to add softball to their list of projects. The following day was the day trainees had been waiting for since the moment they touched down in Baku. In the ballroom of the Hotel Europe, government ministers, the United States Ambassador, PC Director, PC staff, PCT host families, and current PCVs gathered to commemorate the trainees becoming volunteers. While last year’s ceremony may not have been as cordial as we all would have liked, this year’s swearing-in ceremony offered a warm welcome to Azerbaijan’s 9th group of Peace Corps Volunteers. Ambassador Bryza, as well as deputy ministers from the Ministries of Education, Economic Development, and Youth and Sport, gave very supportive speeches to the new group. Following a duel-language speech by one of the new volunteers, the group of 44 took their oath of service. And with that, we welcome to Azerbaijan the AZ-9s!_______________________________Please help the Azerbaijan Interregional Softball League by donating today:https://www.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=donate.contribute.projDetail&projdesc=314-091

Week 63 – 11/27 – 12/3/2011: Baku, Bujag, Ganja

With the huge expansion of the softball league that took place last season, management of the league became a bit hectic. The spring Peace Corps Partnership Project grant (PCPP) was never submitted, leading to a lack of funding and, thus, a lack of tournaments for league members. It was an unfortunate and inexcusable error, one that I, as commissioner of the league, hope to avoid at all costs. If Sunday was any indication, I’d say we are on the right track. Meeting in the lounge before heading back to our respective sites, the newly formed softball committee of Jake, Trey, Reed, and I worked together to put the final touches on the softball PCPP. With the grant covering both the spring and fall seasons and plans to expand the league, both in number of teams and number of tournaments, it is an absolutely massive grant to fill. Nevertheless, with more than five months until the start of the season and the grant already submitted, we are on top of our game. I am fully confident each team in the league will be able to play in every tournament for which it is scheduled. And it’s not just the baseball grant that is on the table. While expanding creativity and developing new methods and activities with my counterparts may be my biggest focus as a TEFL volunteer, there are other ways that I can also help make a lasting impact. With the Ministry of Education issued textbooks being just about the only teaching/learning material available, Bujag School is seriously lacking in language-learning resources. The school has no exercise workbooks, dictionaries, storybooks, visual aids, and the list goes on and on. With the help of my counterparts and director, I would like to help change all of this. Working together on a Small Project Assistance (SPA) grant, we hope to bring in the necessary funds to establish an English Resource Room and Library. If all goes well, the school will have grammar workbooks, dictionaries, storybooks, a catalogue of visual aids, a TV, a DVD player, and a computer to help further the English education of its students. * * * Why Bujag School was chosen for such an event, I was never told, but on Thursday, an army of Ministry of Education officials and teachers from other Oguz Region schools came to Bujag for some sort of an education showcase. All week leading up to the event, the school administration and teachers were anxious. When the day finally arrived, everybody went just a little bit nuts. Teachers patrolled the hallways like the Gestapo, making sure children were in their classrooms well before the bell rang (usually, kids don’t pour into class until a minute or five after the bells rings). The groundskeepers frantically hung the final pictures and student works on the wall before the delegation arrived. The director and deputy director paced back-and-forth in nervous anticipation. And then there was me. With absolutely no stake in the day’s events (they wouldn’t be observing any English classes), I had no reason to panic. As the only person in the village with a camera, my only job was to snap photos of the classes that members of the delegation attended. Although I would have rather been teaching my own classes, it was interesting to finally be able to see some other teachers at work. While some of the observed classes were seriously lacking in creativity, many were full of interactive activities and productivity, a nice reminder that creative lessons are not exclusive to my English classrooms. But even my simple role as photographer was not enough to keep me from joining the ranks of the temporarily insane. Every 20 minutes or so, my deputy director would pull me from whichever classroom I was in, grab hold of my arm, and frantically drag me to another observed lesson to take pictures. Early in the morning, the frantic chaos humored me. However, as the day wore on, the humor of the situation grew annoying and my patience began to wear thin. My annoyance finally boiled over when my director insisted I take more pictures of the Minister of Education as he addressed the students during the extended break. I had already taken ten photos of the man, all of them the same except for slight changes in facial expression. There was absolutely no need for any more. In a hostile whisper, I explained to my director that additional pictures would be no different than the previous ten. And with that snap, it became official: everybody was crazy. At the start of the day, I didn’t quite understand why such a fuss was being made. As I began to think like an insider, though, I realized that the arrival of such a large delegation was a huge deal. The school administration and teachers had every right to be nervous and stressed. From what I saw, though, they have no more reason to worry. Granted, not every teacher had his or her lessons observed, but for those who did, almost all of them showed that they are successfully using effective methodologies. I hope they continue to do so, even without the presence of a delegation. * * * How she escaped from the yard, I have no idea. All I do know is that in the 15 minutes between letting her out and gathering my things to head to Ganja, she had disappeared. “She couldn’t have gone far,” I said to myself as I began searching my house’s immediate surroundings. An hour-and-a-half later, after surveying much of lower Bujag and asking neighbors if they had seen the rascal, Kea was still on the loose. Too late to catch a bus to Ganja, I returned to my house, every 30 minutes or so shouting out her name, but otherwise sulking in the misery of how terrible a dog owner I had become. What kind of heartless scumbag loses his less-than two-month old puppy? Moreover, what was I going to do with that huge bag of dog food I had just bought? As night fell on Bujag, I continued my semi-hourly call to the lost canine, each yell growing less hopeful than the one before. At 6:30, with the village dogs howling in the darkness, I made another feeble call. This time, I heard something familiar. After calling out Kea’s name, I heard a high-pitched, crying yelp among the symphony of mature, forceful barks. Again I yelled and again I heard the responding cry. I immediately left my yard and began to follow the sound. As I approached the source, though, a terrifyingly powerful growl began to sound. Unable to see in the pitch black, I could not spot the exact source of the noise. If I had taken another step, though, I surely would have been ripped to shreds by the most violent and powerful dog this world has ever seen. Scared shitless, I turned around and ran away. I wasn’t giving up on the rescue mission, though. Returning home, I grabbed a headlamp to help me navigate the darkness and a baseball bat to fend off any would-be four-legged attackers. I was taking no prisoners in the search for my lost pup. Just as I was descending the staircase, though, I heard my neighbor calling my name. Turning on the porch light, I saw him approaching my house with a potato sack in hand. I figured he simply wanted to drop off some vegetables, as the kind people of this village do for me all too often. Although I was in a hurry to find my dog, I invited him up to the balcony to receive my present of produce. But when he emptied the contents of the sack, the only thing that rolled out was my little Kea. The little fur-ball had apparently escaped into the yard of a neighbor and instead of immediately returning her to me, the neighbors decided to hang on to her for a few hours. I had no energy to complain, though. I was just happy to have her back… and happy that my neighbor had shown up in time to prevent me from taking batting practice on the village dogs. The following morning, with Kea safe and sound on the porch, I took off for Ganja, where the first meeting for ABLE Camp 2012 was taking place. Although I had missed the first two hours, I was soon caught up and prepared to help discuss the rest of the day’s massive agenda. From a preliminary timeline, to a preliminary curriculum, to financing, to logos, this first ABLE meeting covered a lot of ground and set the tone for what will surely be another successful camp. Just like the softball league, the ABLE boys are on top of our game._____________________________Please Help the Azerbaijan Interregional Softball League by donating today:https://www.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=donate.contribute.projDetail&projdesc=314-091

Since living in our own home for nearly an entire year now, I've learned a lot about water and water management. It seems odd to be in my 30s and feel like I'm just beginning to grasp how important water is to daily life. It's certainly something I took for granted in my pre-Peace Corps life! So here's a little glimpse into how water impacts our life, and the ways we manage.

Pumping WaterIn order for Joey and I to have water in our home, we must connect an electric water pump every few days. Directly above our front gate, we have a giant metal box that holds all our water. For our end of the street, water is available to pump around 10:30am and again around 9pm, give or take a couple of hours. Lessons learned:You must have electricity to pump water. This past autumn and into winter we had a lot of power outages, which made collecting water a bit of an issue. Crisis management: walk a few blocks to the local market and buy a giant 5-liter bottle of water when needed.You can "hear" when the water is available to pump. This has been an area of great "ear training" for me. Our next door neighbors don't have a water tank, and they can only collect water during the two times of day. I'm now able to hear the sounds of water coming to their home, signaling to me that it's time to pump for our own use. I hadn't previously paid much attention to these random noises, but now my ears perk up even with the smallest drip!Before I was so attuned to the neighborhood noises, we could simply turn on our landlords' yard spigot, which is connected to the water supply. Once it starts gurgling, it's time to pump.With the morning water, I pass by a big, broken water pipe on my way to work. When the water is bubbling loudly, flowing out into the canal and onto the street, I can tell this is also a time to pump.We cannot pump water when the giant metal container above our gate is frozen solid. Sadly, this is our current situation. BUT, we can get the ice to slowly melt by turning on our water heater, and then filling up old Coke bottles for cooking, washing dishes, and drinking water (to be boiled and filtered, of course). It might also result in bucket baths if the weather doesn't heat up a little, or if the sun continues to be hidden behind the clouds!

Our front gate and water tank

Laundry

Many people in Azerbaijan have a laundry agitator (some might actually have a washing machine), but for a lot of folks, laundry must be done by hand. We are in the "by hand" category. Summer is pretty easy when it comes to anything related to water. The pipes warm up with the sun, and there is very little to do in order to prepare for a shower or to do laundry. Winter, however, is a much bigger challenge. Our bathroom (toilet, water heater, and shower in one big room) is about 5 feet away from our front door, and isn't technically a heated space. Taking this all into account, we've come up with a pretty solid routine:First, you must turn on the gas for the heater at least 3 hours before you're ready to wash. (Even longer on colder days.)Because it's outside, you wear lots of layers - but be prepared to get wet, especially your socks.Three rounds to laundry: Round 1). Fill first bucket with soap, water, and laundry, agitate, ring out, throw laundry into second bucket, and pour dirty soapy water down the toilet (which is just a couple inches away from your face). Round 2). Fill up second bucket with water and laundry, agitate, ring out, then throw laundry back into clean first bucket, and pour less soapy dirty water down the toilet. Round 3). Fill first bucket back up with water, follow all steps again, and then place the laundry on the clothesline outside. WHEW!Clothesline: In the summer the laundry dried really quickly on the line, but in the winter they have a tendency to freeze or even accumulate snow (it's a covered space, but snow tends to wander). We try bring everything inside before it's frozen solid - we've even placed an old wooden chair next to the gas heater inside our house, which acts as a makeshift clothes dryer. It's proven quite effective, and even adds a little moisture to the dry heat!

Since it's not easy (or enjoyable in the least) to wash clothes by hand, we've found a few ways to manage. Luckily, it seems this might be the same way that native Azeris cope too.You wear the same outfit all week long. If you only have one set of clothes, you have less to wash. (We've adopted this strategy through keen observation.) You only wash the clothes that you really need. For example, only the smelliest, dirtiest clothes get a rinse. Otherwise, you can probably get another week or two out of 'em! Since doing laundry uses 3 buckets of water, especially in the winter, we want to conserve as much as possible, since we're never really sure when our tank might thaw out and be ready to pump again.Finally, hand washing is a back-breaking endeavor that makes your hands sore and raw. Fee free to try it out and let me know what you think!

Blue buckets for laundry/dishes and potential bucket baths.

Gas water heater in the right corner.

Washing DishesUp until this last really cold spell, we've had plenty of water in our house to wash dishes. But, there's no hot water unless you've had the outside bathroom water heater on for several hours. Currently, our strategy is to take our dishes out to the bathroom and wash 'em out there. Last week, it took nearly 3 hours total to wash all the dirty dishes because we could only rinse so much before the "thawed out" water ran out. Luckily, we have all those Coke bottles filled with back-up water.

Our kitchen sinkShoweringIn the summer, we could shower or rinse nearly every day if we chose, and there really wasn't even the need to turn on the water heater. Now, we shower about every 3-4 days (which is a huge improvement from a year ago, when it was every 7-9 days). With the cold and the winter/frozen water situation, I have a much greater appreciation for water in general. I've realized how convenient it is when everything works properly and barely have to think about a thing at all. Now, everything associated with water involves multiple steps, which can make life really tough. I've also come to understand some of the large discrepancies between homes, even on our own street. Our former host family (on the same street as us, just a block down) had running water all the time, and could keep the faucet on full blast so nothing would freeze; we have a tank but can only fill it twice a day; and others have yard spigots to fill up water containers; and some families must wait for a water truck to come fill up the tanks in their homes. (I'm sure I'm missing a few, but you get the point.) There aren't always consistent ways to receive this life-sustaining source of water, so you're forced to always have a back-up plan (and a back-up to your back-up plan). Now we just need to get through February (which is the coldest month of the year here in Quba), and then I can start to consider what water/conservation differences Joey and I might be able to make once we finish our service and return to America at the end of the year. My challenge to you all is this: appreciate your water! Are there any changes you'd like to make in your own water usage?

This past week the AZ8s had our Mid Service Conference (MSC), marking our halfway point in our Peace Corps Service. Overall it was quite good: worthwhile reflection, great info from our new Country Director, even some relevant health sessions. Unfortunately there were some weak spots in the conference, and they happened to be centered around the topic of sustainability.

At this point in our service, sustainability is one of the foremost items on our minds. Its a buzzword that's been tossed out a lot amongst staff and volunteers but it truly is a goal in our service, to start something considered useful enough that Azeris will want to continue it upon our departure. I'll be the first to admit, there's a bit of selfish motivation held within; we all want to feel we are leaving some sort of legacy to our time spent here, but that doesn't make the end result any less worthwhile. And as we enter into our second year and learn our close of service dates our thoughts shift more and more to ways our work might continue beyond our own brief service. So, as a group, we were all excited to hear ideas on sustainable project design.

But there were too many problems with the workshops on sustainability for them to be effective. In these sessions, the word 'sustainability' was ill-defined and often used interchangeably with the word 'success'. Recommendations for a 'sustainable' project usually just amounted to recommendations for a 'successful' project. And the scope of what was meant by 'sustainable' was constantly changing-one moment it focus on projects and the next moment it would be expanded to the extent that simply being friends with someone was considered 'sustainable'.

I was disappointed with this and left wanting for better information on sustainable project development. After these workshops I was thinking a lot about how it could have been improved and in what ways it could have been more beneficial. From this, I've identified three things to adhere to when planning a workshop on sustainable project design.

1) Provide a range of vocabulary and visual metaphors for the learner to utilize.

In a workshop on sustainable projects begin with a discussion on the differences (and similarities) between 'sustainable' and 'successful'. Spend time discussing different expectations to have when thinking about a project's sustainability, and be specific about what this workshop will be referring to when discussing sustainability and sustainable projects.

Additionally, provide a variety of metaphors for participants to think of sustainability in terms of. This will help showcase the different ways to interpret sustainability and allow participants to determine the metaphor that works best for them. Sustainability is not just 'teach a man to fish' but can also be thought of as a waterwheel or letting a field lie fallow. There are many ways to interpret sustainability and they should be introduced in a workshop on this topic. Doing these two things will provide tools to the participants for future discussion and critical thinking.

2) Make sure you stay focused on your topic.

Remember, the topic is 'sustainable project design'. This point may seem obvious, but with a slippery buzzword it's pretty easy to find one's self off topic. To ensure workshop participants are as focused as you are, continue to spell out how what is being discussed relates your topic. Challenge participants to make the connection between what they have said and in what specific way it relates to project sustainability.

Similar to this, check to make sure what you include in your agenda is truly focused on the topic. Rather than focusing on measurements of success, discuss features of a project that encourage sustainability. More than something to be measured, sustainability of projects is something to prepare for.

3) Focus on techniques and practices that encourage sustainable thought amongst counterparts.

Often we need to work with host country national counterparts to ensure project sustainability, these are the people we are priming to continue the project once we've left. When discussing project sustainability what are the techniques that can be employed to encourage it?

Discussing ideas and strategies for train the trainer programs, leader selection, and openness about the temporary nature of one's service here are all ways to prepare for a project's sustainability. Introducing, or even teaching, these methods are ways to help volunteers design sustainable projects.

Volunteers want to design sustainable projects and want to feel as if they are leaving some sort of legacy of their service behind. Similarly they want to attend workshops on sustainable project design, but, they want it to be relevant to their work. Otherwise, instead of feeling empowered, participants will feel frustrated and stilted.

These last few months have been a little rough. Actually, I think ‘a little’ might qualify for understatement of the year. But despite it all I am trying to struggle through and am currently on my way to America for a much needed break. Although at first this ‘break’ seemed impossibly difficult due to the [...]

It’s been kind of a long time since I last updated so here’s a little of what’s been going on since my last post: It snowed in Zerdab- Thanksgiving- Christmas in Mingechevir- Gift Exchange Football on Christmas day, Azerbaijanis vs. Americans Shaxta Baba and Qar Qizi New Years in Tbilisi-

…used to run these streets in 2 feet of snow…  Multiple Exposures Action. Playground of Heights and Depths.   Multiple Exposures Action. Mid-winter climb cures all ills. Once: we climbed each challenge… …believed even fishes could rise from concrete… …remembered the space underneath our feet… …and the vast structures above, once ascended, that gave us the [...]

Well, Winter has come with a vengeance. After not having Internet for over a week and not being able to SKYPE my family, Internet was finally fixed and working, yea. So I set my alarm for 6 AM (12 hours difference), so I can SKYPE my grandchildren Owen and Em before bath and bedtime. I woke up as the alarm went off, tiptoed into the kitchen, turned on the light and my computer, put water on for my coffee, sat down entered my pass word and darn, the electricity went out and so did the Internet. Sooooo close. It was still dark, so I closed everything, sent a text to my family and tiptoed back to bed. An hour and half later, I woke up to snow, yuck. It snowed all night, at that point it was about a foot on the ground and it was still snowing. As in my last blog, it hadn't stopped. I had planned to meet up with a few other PCV's for spaghetti, salad and a movie. But I wasn't sure if I should brave the cold and snow. Yes, I will. I was meeting another PC in Zagatala, and we would be off to Danschi. Packed my computer and sleeping bag, went out to catch the murshurutka and waited.... and waited.... and waited. I was just about to turn around and walk back to the house and one finally came. I got to Zaqatala, and called the PCV and he told me to start walking to the murshurutka station (as you know, I now know where that is.... yea) and he will meet me there as he was taking a taxi because no murshurutka was in his village. I started walking and I heard a honk and it was a taxi with the PC's in it, yea, I didn't have to walk too far. We got to the marshurutka station and got on the last one to Danschi. It was suppose to leave at 3:30 but didn't leave until 4 PM. Everything here is hurry up, WAIT. I am glad I went, we all had a great time, ate well, played a card game,and watched a really bad sit com. The only bad part is that it was really cold because the only heat was from a wood stove and in the middle of the night when the wood burnt out, it was very cold and the bathroom (of course) was outside in the back in the woods on the way to grandmother's house. But it was a good weekend.

When I got home, I was a little hungry. Now the food up here is definitely different then in training. There is a lot more vegetables and soups. More meat and less chicken. I don't mind, I don't eat meat as it upsets my stomach, and even though I am eating better here, I have not gain the weight back that I lost in training. But I think I finally met my match in the gross department. Now, I had seen a cow being skinned in a driveway while walking to training, chunks of meat hanging with a for sale sign (while heads and hoofs are on display) outside the "meat market". My host family's son and his two friends, killed and skinned two rabbits, but the worst is the inners of animals. Something about liver and heart is just yuck. Now back to the story, as I walked into the kitchen, I notice soup on the range, so I lifted the lid and big chunks of liver was floating on the top and I just couldn't bring myself to eat it. I got a piece of bread went into my room and put peanut butter on it and savored every last morsel. They do not have peanut butter here and my package from home I got a jar, hmmmm. How you miss foods you took for granted back home.

Life Challenge: The path to the truth is a labor of the heart, not of the head. Make your heart your primary guide, not your mind. Meet, challenge and ultimately prevail over your ego with your heart. Knowing yourself will lead you to the knowledge of God.... Elif Shafar "40 Rules of Love" (thanks Viv I love that book)

I love my village. The mountains that surround my village are breathe taking. Contrast of old world with the new one. Actually they have three contrasting elements. The horse and cart and the car that looked like my Skoda car when I was in the Czech Republic, and then they have either the brand new BMW or a Mercedes.

Oldest Old

New Please note in the picture below the blog in which I talked about roadside gasoline in plastic bottles, well here is proof!!

Roadside Gas Station!!

I cannot make this stuff up! It is for real. Aliabad is mostly a farming village, whereas at any given time a tractor will be driving by or a herd of sheep, a few cows and a zillion chickens may cross your path (pictures to post in the future). Every morning when I venture out to walk to school, I wonder who, or what is going to cross my path in the morning. Believe it or not, it is a wonderful blend of old and new and at some point, the old will catch up but I hope not too soon. It is a lovely village and I know that God was in a good mood when he created this part of the “Middle Finger”.

And then He got mad. When I first wrote this blog it was a few days ago and as you can see by the pictures above, it was beautiful, cold (actually freezing) but at least the sun is out. Now I want to show you the pictures I took yesterday:

From my window

From my window

This is NOT funny. It has been snowing every since. Hmmm, I think someone is laughing and it is not me!!

Life Challenge: I'd rather regret the things I've done then regret the things I haven't done... Lucille Ball

Last week Klan-A-Plan dropped a new track dedicated to their parents. It intros with a middle eastern sounding sitar plucking over a mid tempo beat and some scary experimentations with auto-tuning and falsetto. However, this turns out to be a bit of a head fake and after a minute and a half they launch into some pretty enjoyable verses to create a pretty appealing song.

Klan-A-Plan - Valideynler (which means: parents) via: RapRock.Az

Klan-A-Plan - Valideynler by joshehr

Previously Hip-Hop from the Land of Fire: Hüseyn Dǝrya

To market, to market to buy a…………….., home again, home again

Though every neighborhood has small markets, and even street vendors who set up tables to sell eggs, vegetables, and fruits to near-by apartment dwellers, the main markets in the center of town are the most active. There are sections devoted to vegetables, another to fruits, still others to flour, fish, meat, cheese, etc. The noisiest part though is where the live chickens and turkeys squawk flap their wings and feathers, yet never move, because their feet are bound. Many vendors have stalls or tables, yet others just open up the backs of trucks or trunks of cars, out of which their produce is sold.

One of my first days here in Mingechavir, the mom in my host family took me for a marshrutka ride into the center of town. She told me at one point we had just passed the “department store”. I looked, but could not see anything that reminded me, even in the slightest, of a Macy’s. Later, coming home from the university one day, I realized what she may have meant. There is a very long one-story concrete building with a corrugated metal roof. I walked through and past all kinds of little shops inside—clothes, house-hold goods, paper-products, shoes, even several bridal shops—but they all amount to small alcoves or little shops under this one roof, not unlike the lower levels of Seattle’s Pike Place Market. Like a department store, there are individual shops selling all the various things one usually needs.

Note the red sash, often on a bridal gown to signify purity, and removed by the groom's friends during the wedding reception, not unlike the bride's garter as one of our customs.

The meat stalls at the market are quite interesting. You order up the cuts you want, and pretty much the entire animal is available. The most fascinating sight is the sheep’s head on the table with the four legs and hooves surrounding it; these are usually sold together to make the specialty known as xash, pronounced hash. The head and hooves are boiled together (sometimes with the innards) in a salty broth. I tried it the other day, and I think I was given a ‘choice’ piece—I received one of the hooves—but I didn’t find too much meat on it; parts of the head, though, did have some rather tender pieces of meat. Now, those who know me well know that I am always adventuresome and like trying new cuisine as part of the cultural experience. But, I have also come to realize that there are some regional specialties that never make it out of their respective regions, and for good reason. This just might be one of those. And for those who prefer, this same dish can be prepared from a cows head, hooves, etc. As they say here, ‘nush olsun’…bon appetite.

In front of one of the many butcher shops

Sheep may gently, and safely graze on the playing fields between apartment buildings...until called to market

My hoof We may have telephone poles to climb, but here the poles are laundry poles in the yard, with pulleys at various levels to match up with the pulleys on the balconies and windows, to hold the lines for hanging the laundry

The hanging laundry adds some color to the landscape, and although some have washing machines, I have not yet seen a dryer here

In efforts to jump full swing into 2012, I thought I might need to back track a little bit and tell you how we wrapped up 2011. I'd even say we ended with a bang... or at least sparklers!

As many of you know, Azerbaijan is a Muslim country and does not celebrate Christmas. As I have learned from the people who surround me, during the Soviet era religion was altogether banned, however more secular holidays were allowed. With that, there are many similarities to a traditional American Christmas and how Azeris ring in the New Year. The last week of the year there are decorated trees, little lights, and a joyous energy of the anticipation of Santa Claus (or as he's known here, Shaxta Baba) bringing the children a gift or two. One of the more surprising areas of Azeri celebration is that young boys typically throw firecrackers, either into a large crowd or just in the general direction of anybody walking by. (This is NOT a tradition I plan on adding upon our return home.) BUT, there a handful of very popular Christmas songs here that are inexplicably sung in English. All in all, the secular American Christmas feels a lot like how the locals celebrate New Year's Eve here in Azerbaijan!

Since Christmas and New Year's was fast approaching, I decided to share a little bit about our American culture and create a party for all of my students. In preparation, we made decorations such as a paper chain, paper snowflakes, ornaments for our silver tree, and reindeer out of feet and hand cut-outs (in addition to our holiday tree stained-glass project from last month). I use the term "holiday tree" because it was not only a Christmas tree, but also a New Year tree... a little bit of cultural acceptance and integration!

For the party, my adult counterparts got really excited about this event too. They strung up lights from their own homes, helped prepare a balloon pilar, set up music and speakers, and helped prepare tea. It was quite nice to see how all generations got so excited for this party. I even had one student bring a full size cake, extra decorations and masks.

The event itself was pretty amazing, since over 45 students arrived right on time, got dressed up, brought treats to share with our tea, socialized and had FUN! It was quite an amazing feeling to be the only one in that room who knew every person there, and then encouraged this community to get to know each other more! (Of course, the groups stuck together. Yes, they are still teenagers.)

What I learned: If I let go of how I want things to go, everything works so much better! Because I was able to relinquish a lot of control of the outcome, this event became something so special to everyone involved. In general, there are a lot "parties" that are intended to be for adults or televised (which in turn can get a little stiff), but since this was only for them, these kids could be kids!

Highlights from Christmas: A student brought in his family's silver tree to help liven up our room"Hillary, can you please come to my home for O Holy Night?" An invitation from one of my students to join her family for Christmas dinner. And boy did we feast!"Happy x-mas to you and happy birthday to Jesus. Let the Jesus makes your life amazing, divine. Let him gives to you only good things." Another text from one of my students."May the spirit of love gently fill ur heart and home in the loveliest of seasons may u find reasons 4 happiness. I wish u a Merry Christmas." A text from my Azeri teacher.A group of students saying this was the best party they had ever been to

Without all the hubub of Christmas advertising, I think that the Azeris in my life get it. They get the meaning of Christmas like the way I get the meaning of Ramadan. I don't know every religious component there is to know about that Muslim holiday, but I understand the intention, the openness and interest in helping a foreigner feel welcome. The Azeris in my life have made an effort to make me feel welcome in my community to celebrate my own holiday with them. My wish for the world is to have the inclusion, love and openness that my community has for me / Joey and I / foreigners / other religions / America / all the people in the world. We make a difference here. We make a difference in our own hearts and in the hearts of those we let in.

Belated Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

So I realize the time between posts is getting longer, but it can only mean that I’m too busy to deliver one that is up-to-snuff. To give you an idea, I just got back from a loooong weekend in Georgia, … Continue reading →

Ah yes, the art of awkwardness. These moments are often so plentiful in my life here in Azerbaijan, I don't think I take the time to truly appreciate them. Since I know everyone loves a good awkward moment, see Michael Scott on The Office, I thought I would take the time to write this one down.

My counterpart and I are currently working on a small grant for the the British Councils, the due date is on the 27th and I leave tomorrow for our Mid-Service Conference (MSC), making today the day we need to finish. It is rare that we can find time to actually sit down and talk together at our organization (as our Director, Tural is often in high demand and if I'm in the organization it is often an indicator that I'm there to engage with students, which.....I am, but I also recognize that it's impossible to get any "paperwork" or written work done while I'm at our org). We made plans to instead meet at my apartment so we could work together. He brought his computer, I have internet and we began our adventure.

Through this grant writing process I have included Tural in every step. This has been painstaking process for us both because the application is in English and certainly I could write it, but that does absolutely nothing for longevity (teach a man to fish, right?). I keep saying "What if I get hit by a bus? If I get hit by a bus, I won't be able to help!" to which he typically looks horrified at the suggestion (grotesque humor rarely translates). What this means is that with each question on the proposal, we first go over the words he doesn't know and I then ask him what he thinks about the question. I continue asking questions to draw out answers and if a "shrug" is used as his response I ask it in a different way or with smaller questions that lead up to the bigger question. Initially, I think the shrug was used as a way to get an answer out of me, but I'm pretty stubborn and in instances like these, fairly patient. And so we persist, but it has taken (is taking) a great deal of patience on both our parts. The grant is shaping up quite nicely and we plan to finish (inshallah) after lunch today.

So where is the awkward? Here it is. While Tural and I were working together on the grant, my landlord came to the door with a repairman. After returning from America this month, my apartment basically took it upon itself to fall apart. Leaky ceilings in the bathroom, leaks in the kitchen, toilet tank leaking onto the floor, motor broke on the fridge and the rat is back. (Although, I think this is a new rat, because this rat is like Super Rat, equivalent in size to a cat only with a rat tail, I wish I were exaggerating.) Rat Story: Part 2 is a story for another day because I need to keep my emotions in check, at least until the end of the week, and I think that story might send me over the edge and into the Depths of Despair.

This week, I went and paid my landlord rent for February and while I was with him, I told him about the problems in my apt (or "fumbled my way through trying to explain the problems in my apartment in Azerbaijani"). He told me who I had to go see for the pipes and said he would bring a repairman to look at the fridge. The next day, he returned with the repairman and after they looked at it discovered it would be 120 AZN to repair. To put this price into perspective, that is the same as one month's rent for me and I'm fairly certain about 3/4s of the cost of a new fridge. I told him it was too expensive and I could not afford it. So today, when he and the repairman showed up, I was taken aback a little. I thought perhaps he hadn't understood me (which is definitely possible). With Tural there, he said he had understood, but saw my food on the balcony and felt bad for me and wanted to repair it. I then said, "But I cannot pay, I don't have the money." He and Tural then spoke rapidly to one another (to which I could not follow all of it) and Tural said "What can you pay? He will take it. Or you can make payments every month." At this point I am frustrated, but I persist "But, it is too much money, that is the same as one month's rent for me." And Tural says, "Yes, yes, we understand, but what you can pay, he will take." I want you to know that I have a wonderful landlord. My landlord is extremely kind and I think honestly, he worries a little about me living here alone. Every month when I pay him, he seems extremely embarrassed to be taking money from a woman. I also think it's why he returned to repair the fridge. However, I also know him fairly well and have drank tea at his house and met his family. He has a son who is ill and also has very little money due to medical bills. He doesn't have an extra 120 AZN either.

So, here I am with my landlord, Tural, and random repairman and they are being wonderful (well, except random repairman, he's just hanging out). Both men are trying to help me to solve this problem and I recognize their kindness. And so, how do I, world traveler, tough, independent and strong woman that I am respond? By crying of course! Awkward x 3. Here I am, a woman, living alone (a huge cultural faux pax), and showing what I perceive as proving right their every suspicion, a woman just can't handle it (which of course I don't agree with, but I'm certain you understand the implications here). I'm standing there crying and covering my eyes with one hand and holding up the "Just a minute" hand with the other. Tural is asking me what's wrong and the two others just kind of stood there awkwardly. It was not this exact moment that was lending itself to tears, it was the Attack of The Rat, the broken everything, the frustrations in communication, the grant writing Tural and I were supposed to be working on, the kindness of everyone in the situation, the embarrassment of these money woes and just everything. To seem even crazier, I just start laughing at the absurdity of the entire situation, waving my hands in a "I'm fine, I'm fine" kind of way, which I'm sure just confused everyone more.

It occurs to me that this moment and the way I'm experiencing it might be what Peace Corps had in mind when they discussed "It is also important that you live at the same economic level as the people in your community" in reference to our living allowances. These struggles I'm experiencing are some of the struggles people here live with daily, and it is most likely an experience with which they will continue to struggle. I think there is a great humility to be gained from this experience.

I ended up paying my landlord 20AZN for now and we'll figure the rest out later. In the meantime, there is a Super Rat to take care of and MSC to prepare for. Tural should return shortly so we can finish this grant as well. Ay da, Peace Corps living.

For those of you who have been somewhat keeping up with these emails you'll know that these past couple months (...years?) has been pretty busy. Talking with friends stateside, it sounds like it was equally true in Americastan; I'd be willing to take the safe bet that, around the world, months which include major holidays tend to be busier than the rest. Its a familiar phenomenon to feel the need for a break after the rubble is cleaned up from the holiday cheer bomb which exploded all over your previously normal and sane life.

I'll be the first to admit I bring it upon myself. I like being busy and I'm really good at filling up my hours, days, and months with projects and activities (though I will also admit that walking takes up at least an hour of my day...better get used to this no-car lifestyle). I like visiting friends and I like getting out and about in my community. I like meeting with colleagues working towards larger projects than the day to day minutia of a 5th form English lesson. But I also recognize that keeping up a state of constant work and 'productivity' is exhausting. My body has been telling me this over the past few weeks, threatening me with illness and forcing itself to bed at 7:30.

And I finally listened. This past weekend I did nothing; it was a national day of mourning on the 20th of January and I made it my business to have no business on Friday and Saturday. It was magnificent-I read and listened to music. I washed my bedsheets and cleared my email inbox. I bought a new toothbrush and ignored grocery shopping. For the first time in a very long, I had enough time of not doing anything to actually become bored and it was so nice. Wandering aimlessly from my living room to the kitchen back to the living room again never felt so good.

There's a lesson for me in here. I know that we all need to take some time off for ourselves to recharge, but I generally seek out people to recharge which means making plans. What was so nice about this weekend was that it was unscheduled. Its already on my calendar in early March to figure out when my next 'unscheduled' weekend will be. I'm always going to be busy, so I'm going to assume in about 3 months I'm going to want, and need, another weekend of that fleeting flavor of boredom.

Next week we have our Mid Service Training. I'm going to see some people I haven't seen since we were inaugurated as volunteers. It will be a week of looking back and projecting forward, dental checkups and language exams. And then I'll head to to the regions for our final teacher training under this current grant. It will be a busy week of traveling and trainings, but after this weekend savoring the subtle joy of boredom I think I'm more ready than I've felt in a while.

Just got into Baku yesterday. Spent the day with Tim working on our sweet singing voices but mainly doing what we do best…playing with video editing software. Here is the newest addition to the Caspian Dreamer arsenal (ENJOY): All part … Continue reading →

For Christmas and New Year I got the amazing opportunity to visit Singapore and Malaysia. I’m not gonna ramble on and on about how amazing it was but seriously….AMAZING. I got to spend 10 days with the lovely Jessica Spencer … Continue reading →

20 Yanvar Memorial at Martyrs' Lane, Baku*Preface. I had wanted to post this yesterday, but by the time I had finished drafting, we lost power for the rest of the night.

İyirmi Yanvar (20 January) is a Day of National Sorrow, a secular holiday to honor those who died on 19-20 January 1990 when the Soviet army rolled into Baku to put down a protest, reportedly killing approximately 130 people and wounding 700+ more.

Having occurred only 22 years ago, the tragedy is very much within recent memory. I've talked to many a person who was there and/or who knew someone who was killed. In my community, just down the way, is a street named for a friend's relative who died in the attack.

Burial of victims of 20 Yanvar*To help put this in perspective, imagine that it's the turn of the 19th Century in America. The young nation is on only its third president, Thomas Jefferson. Only 25 years before had these newly "American" peoples, living in some outlying territories of a world power, waged and won their War of Independence. George Washington, founding father and general during that war, had just died recently in 1799. And the Boston Massacre, which foreshadowed the outbreak of the American Revolution, is within living memory.

March 5, 1770, Boston. Turmoil brews just under the surface of the city. The taxation of trade to the outlying colonies is in dispute. British troops have essentially occupied Boston to help enforce these taxes, the Townshend Acts, which are highly unpopular and considered oppressive by many. Outbreaks of brawling between civilians and soldiers are not uncommon.

Portrayal of Boston Massacre engraved by Paul Revere.

(Copyright expired.)One evening, Edward Garrick, a young barber's apprentice, exchanges insults with a British sentry, Hugh White. Tempers rise and White strikes Garrick on the side of his head with the butt of his rifle. Garrick calls out. A mob forms and begins throwing things at White, who calls for backup. Seven soldiers join Garrick. The crowd swells to around three or four hundred. The Captain shouts for the crowd to disperse. They do not, continuing to taunt the soldiers, yelling "fire!" The crowd knocks down a soldier, who drops his weapon. He recovers his musket and discharges it into the crowd, shouting, "Damn you, fire!" In the confusion, the soldiers shoot into the crowd, killing three immediately and two others who die later of their wounds. The crowd disperses.

Although only five people were killed in the Boston Massacre, it turned the tide of public sentiment against the British empire, which ruled from afar, and fueled the movement for independence. In the aftermath, the British Parliament repealed most of the taxes in the Townshend Acts but retained the tax on tea, unknowingly setting the stage for the Boston Tea Party and, eventually, the Revolutionary War.

Against this historical backdrop, imagine that one of the people who died was a relative, friend, or fiancé. Maybe someone you had just seen the day before and took for granted you would see the next. Maybe that begins to capture the sentiment surrounding 20 Yanvar in Azərbaycani culture.

As the Boston Massacre was to American history, the tragedy of 20 Yanvar 1990 is considered to have unified public support for independence and been a significant milestone in the collapse of the Soviet Union, which experienced increasing difficulty ruling the outlying republics from Moscow. Azərbaycan declared independence the following year. Gorbachev later remarked in his April 27, 1995 speech in Istanbul that "[t]he declaration of a state of emergency in Baku was the biggest mistake of my political career....."

Stamp commemorating 20 Yanvar.** Most years, throngs of people process down along Şəhidlər Xiyabanı ("Alley of Martyrs" or "Martyrs' Lane") and around the eternal fire memorial in Bakı to honor the deceased, leaving red carnations (the symbol of 20 Yanvar) on the graves, but people have commented to me that due to the cold and snow this year, the throngs may have been slightly less throng-ish than usual. Indeed, when I suggested on Thursday to one person that we go, the skeptical response was basically, "Well, if you want to..." Certainly, I would be the first to admit that it was much more comfortable ("rahat," from the Persian, meaning "the palm of the hand" or "ease / tranquility") to watch the coverage on TV. Bonus: better viewing angles and hot tea while you watch.

The story behind the red carnations. I've heard a number of origin stories for the tradition of leaving red carnations on 20 Yanvar. One is that red carnations were popularly exchanged among couples, and because there were many student couples among the protesters, the streets were strewn with red carnations during the chaos. Another story is that Azərbaycan used to export red carnations to the rest of the Soviet Union, so in protest against the Soviet invasion, Azərbaycanis laid down their red carnations in the streets before the advancing troops. (An almost identical version of this story is recounted noted by another Peace Corps Volunteer here.) The most pragmatic explanation I've heard is that red carnations were plentiful in Bakı at the time, so when the unexpected and tragic need for massive quantities of flowers arose, red carnations became the flower of choice, essentially out of necessity.

Eternal Fire Memorial*Some links about 20 Yanvar:A selection of Azərbaycani press coverage in English here (article and photos of President Aliyev paying tribute), here (general article), here (attempted protest outside Russian embassy), and here.Reflections by an Azərbaycani blogger on the dark events that occurred shortly after he had turned one.Other posts by Peace Corps Volunteers about 20 Yanvar here and here.* Permission to use these images granted through the GNU Free Documentation License.

** Image in public domain pursuant to the law of the Azerbaijan Republic "On Copyright and Neighboring Right," No. 115-1Q of 5 June 1996.

Warning: These are tried and tested ways to take away the winter woes, but you're going to have to get down and nerdy.

1. Dance! Play some of your favorite music or slap on some headphones and dance around your living room. Close the blinds and let loose. Not a good dancer? No one will know! (This is also a great way to warm up in your chilly Azeri house or apartment.)

2. Go for a walk. Bundle up, it's cold out there! But once you're hatted, scarved, booted and gloved up, walking around should be no problem. Make a game out of it, Azeri scavenger hunt! List of things to find: Xanim shouting "Eggs for sale!", Children laughing, Men smoking, a tree with leaves still on it, 3 cayxanas, a store that sells your favorite chocolate (buy some!) or sweet (buy some!), clothes hanging on the line, a stray dog, a stray cat, 2 chickens and someone carrying bread under their arm.

3. Make something, anything! I have crayons, stickers, plastic containers, scissors, colored pencils, pens, magazines and loads of other miscellaneous things which can be used for an art project. Maybe you don't have any of these things, maybe you don't think of yourself as the "type," believe me, you are. A fun activity I like (because I like mess for art's sake) is to take a cup of rice, beans or any type of dry good which functions the same and make designs on table tops. Spell out inspiring words, one bean at a time, make loopy designs, make a race track for a qapik (my nephew snuck a race car in my bag, so I have a bonafide toy car to use), design a "rice print" of your dream house. The point is to use your imagination and if in the process you laugh at the ridiculousness of you, and how glad you are no one can see you, bonus points.

4. Sing loud! Sing off key! Just sing. Put on your favorite song and sing along or sing a capella. Start off quiet and then get louder. Sing a fast song slow and sing a slow song fast. Try out different styles (bonus points for implementing mannerisms and dance moves of the original artist). Laugh.

5. Read out loud in any accent you can muster. This one is particularly fun if you have an audience. Have audience members assign the accent or cut up pieces of paper with country names, be sure to include countries whose accent you've never heard and make it up.

6. Meet someone new. Invite them to tea. Pay for them.

7. Make your favorite hot beverage, find a blanket and read a "throw away" book. I drink a lot of coffee, but maybe that's not your thing. This time of year is perfect for hot chocolate or hot tea. Looking to spice up your chocolate life? Add a little cayenne pepper (qırmızı istiot) to your hot chocolate for a little bite! Track down a copy of a book you'd never confess to liking (because you're obviously too smart to like such nonsense) and stay in for the day.

8. Write a letter to someone. We all love receiving real mail so why not send some? Winter is the perfect time to reflect on your feelings and write a letter to someone who has touched your life. If you stop finding the words to reflect your emotions, stop mid-letter and draw them a picture. Tell them the picture represents your feelings for them and it's their job to interpret it. Tell them to write back their interpretations.

9. Do something nice for someone else, secretly! In Peace Corps, it's hard to have secrets, this presents the additional challenge of trying to do something for someone else that no one, other than you, knows about. No bragging, no telling anyone, this is a secret just for you. Revel in the warm fuzziness of your good deed.

10. Invite people over for the weekend. Have a game night, movie night, art night or all three. Do something fun together which you can all laugh about later. Make funny face masks, make dinner, quote your favorite movie/poem/book, talk about life and love. Learn something about them you never knew. Talk about the funniest thing that's ever happened to you, the nicest thing someone's ever done for you and the best date you ever went on. Keep the conversation joyful and charge people a piece of chocolate for cynicism or down talk (not that we don't need this too sometimes, but the point of this night is to shake off the grays and find some happy).

11. Find your favorite uplifting quotes, post them around your room/apartment/house. Read them when you're feeling gloomy.

12. Have a gab fest. Load up on kontours, make a phone date with one of your favorite someones and blab about your crappy day. Make sure you return the favor.

13. Learn something new. Struggling with that ğ sound in Azeri? (Or is that just me?) Practice until you get it right! Grab that GRE/LSAT/GMAT manual you've been hiding and do a lesson a day. Borrow a book from someone and read about something you know absolutely nothing about. Talk to someone who majored in something very different from you, ask them about what they learned. When you have internet access, YouTube a video of something you've been wanting to try (belly dancing anyone?).

14. Download your favorite podcasts or news shows. Laugh or cry listening to The Moth.

15. Laugh. However that can happen for you. Hang out with your favorite funny friend, draw on an eyeliner mustache for a Facebook photo, do an amazing activity with your students, learn a cheesy joke and laugh while telling it (bonus points for others looking on with a "that is the lamest thing I've ever heard" expression). Play a game of hide and seek or tag with the neighborhood kids. Seek out those "laughter" opportunities.

Please feel free to add your own, but these are (tried and tested) ways that I try to shake off the cold when winter weather gets me down. Happy 2012!