-I saw the tallest fountains in the world, at the base of the tallest building in the world.

-I went to the highest lounge in the world, located in the tallest building in the world.

-I rode the fastest rollercoaster in the world.

-I skiied on one of the only indoor ski hills in the world.

-I ate (and drank) more than my body weight in the ten days I was in Dubai.

Being in a place (I almost wrote city, Balaken? City?! Ha!) that does not have any skyscrapers is the least of my adjustment issues currently.

But I must say, I'm surprised at how happy I am to be back.

Dubai was amazing. My Dad was a great tour guide, having lived in Dubai city center only a month, he took great care of us. We did all of the cool touristy stuff (including a simulation sky-diving experience - floating in a wind tunnel, basically), and still got to lounge around the apartment like it belonged to us. Because well, it does. My mom met us a few days in, and that was her big move to Dubai from home. I think she's adjusting well. I think the beach will help...

Dubai is like all the great things about America, on drugs. Only without the drugs. (You can get arrested for having trace amounts of codeine on your system - and that's arrested until you can prove that it was prescribed). And the alcohol is 'controlled' meaning that anywhere but hotels it is illegal, but in the hotels it flows like water.

The city is beautiful, clean. My first impression was the smell of the gulf and thinking, "everything is so shiny." There is no shortage of things to do, but I'm certainly glad we were able to have Dad's paycheck help us get around. I doubt we'd have gotten very far on a Peace Corps salary. But that isn't to say that everything is crazy expensive...most stuff is reasonable by American standards.

Getting on that plane was difficult. But I was comforted when I came back to my apartment and found everything just the way I left it. I went to school, and was even happy to see my difficult fifth formers tattling on each other in the hallway. When I was in Dubai I thought about not coming back. But I'm glad I did. It'll be hard to be here in the Balaken cold thinking, "I could be sitting on the beach right now." But five months isn't really that much time...

My first assignment is, yes, to teach English. But for me, what is far more rewarding, is teaching kids how to be creative, and how to think for themselves. Tomorrow is my second Azerbaijani Christmas Pageant. (No, they don't celebrate Christmas here. But I don't know what else to call it. All of my teachers call it, "Ingilis Gecesi" which means "English Night" but seeing as how it is at 1pm, that seems wrong. So, I have my own little pet name for it). And in honor of the occasion, I'm having the kids do some coloring to decorate the walls.

Now, coloring is not something kids here are necessarily used to. Markers are kind of expensive, and um, terrible, and you don't find published coloring books around. So, in comes Stephanie Teacher with a shoe box full of American markers and chaos ensues. I hand each child a half-size paper with a black and white outline of either a snowman, a tree, a bell, or a child dressed in winter clothes. These are the questions I get/conversations I hear:

Child: "What do I do with this?" Me: "Color it." Child: "Color it?" Me: "Yes, color it."

Child 1: "What color should I color the tree?" Me: "Any color you want!" Child 2: "Trees are green, it must be green." Child 1: "She is right. Very clever. It will be green."

Child (with snowman): "Do I color the arms?"

Child (with bell): "Should I color the bow?"

Child (with tree): "Can I color the star on top red?"

Child (with child-image coloring page): "This is a boy. I must color him blue."

Child (with with child-image): "Do I draw a face?" Me: "I think you should." Child: "Eyes, a nose, do I draw ears?" Me: "If you want." Child: "Hm."

Me: "Don't forget to write your name so you can remember it is yours and take it home!" (several) Children: "Do we write our last names?" Me: "It's up to you." Children: *confusion.

I think you get the idea. My counterpart and I found it terribly funny that not a single child could make their own decision about what color to color their pictures. The word we use to ask permission in Azerbaijani is "olar," and all I heard all day was, "olar muellime?!" Which essentially means, "can I do THIS, teacher?" Over and over and over again. And they were all quite frustrated when all I kept saying was, "nece isteyirsen" or, "as you wish..." They are used to being told what to do, even in art class. But generally, I refuse to do that, and insist they decide for themselves. Decisions are difficult (trust me, I know). And even a decision as simple as picking what color to color a tree can be terrifying - especially if you aren't used to having that kind of power. It's a little tiny crisis moment for them, one that I take an immense amount of joy from.

Peace Corps sends out in every newsletter a list of 'milestones' and 'cultural adjustments' that happen during the timeline of a volunteers service. Specifically, things that we should expect along the way, and certain emotions or roadblocks that we will have to deal with. Generally they are correct, but I'd like to make a list of my own (and also, this list is coming from the first volunteer in a site, and a volunteer who is staying):

Training, Months t-minus 2 to 0: Everything is bright and shiny and new and quaint. "Why does my host mom keep trying to fix my bra? She's so silly." "They don't drink cold water here, isn't that WEIRD?!" I call this the honeymoon stage with Azerbaijan. It's all crazy and funny. And every encounter is interesting. Also, you are optimistic and bright eyed. And a little arrogant and naive. "I'm going to change the world!" you say. You have no idea...

Arrival at site: Months 1 to 3. This is particularly sadistic of Peace Corps, dropping you off at site in the middle of the holiday season and some of the coldest months of the year. You go from seeing Americans 9 hours a day every day to seeing them basically never (depending on whether or not you have sitemates). You find yourself in a culture that you aren't familiar with and a language you don't understand. You make cultural faux pas. You forget to stand when the director comes in the room. You put your feet up on the chair. Some days you don't want to leave your sleeping bag, but host mom comes in at 8am and makes you get up. You get sick of her trying to fix your bra, and you get really mad when they won't just give you a friggen' glass of cold water. But things are still exciting, because now, site is new. The first time you taste pumpkin qutab (a quesadilla type thing) or xengel (dumplings) you think you've died and gone to heaven. And everything you do is your own.

Months 3 - 6: You've spent the first three months being fed and poked and prodded. Asked why you aren't married. When you'll get married. If you want to marry the neighbor's son. And guess what? You're still getting asked these questions. But you are starting to come up with creative answers. "I'll marry an Azeri when you find me an Azeri man who will do half the cooking and his own laundry." And you get excited when you understand the retort, "is there any man who will do his own laundry?" Maybe you move out of your house...and that takes a lot more work than just calling up a real estate agent. You feel guilty you spent the first three months at site guesting and stress eating, so in a frenzy to lose those extra five pounds, you start going out more and you try desparately to begin projects. Likely, your first few projects will fail. You don't know the right people. You scheduled it when all the children are out picking chestnuts (duh. Why didnt you know that?) You'll realize that there was an important meeting at school - yesterday - and no one told you. You'll be frustrated, and you are starting to take ownership of the town. You are not broken...yet.

Months 6-9: Jaded sets in. You've nearly killed yourself trying to implement all of the things Peace Corps told you you had to do during training. And you realize that no matter how hard you try, your counterpart is never going to get permission from her husband to help you run a club. Your girls will never play soccer on the field because it is too public. You've gone to an early service training and seen volunteers you hadn't seen since PST...and some of them won't stop bragging about how awesome their site is and how amazing they have it. And you worry that some people won't last another week. You take your first trip out of country, it's summer after all...and you see your family or friends. Or just remember what normal feels like. You come back - and it takes you another three weeks to really come back. You realize exactly what you gave up to be here. And it hurts.

Months 9 - 12: Projects finally start to take shape. You've learned to end everything before dark so the kids can get home on time. You've learned to tell them to ask their parents, because they won't do it on their own. You've found a handful of people - adults, kids, teenagers - who think like you. You don't know how they happened in this culture, but something clicked, and they get you. New volunteers arrive, and you see how they flounder with the language and find everything quaint. Compared to them, you've got this whole country figured out. Or so you think.

Months 12-15: Damn, it's cold. It's winter. Again. And all those projects that were doing so well come to a screeching halt because it is too cold to hold club in the run-down building you were using before (because there is no heat there) and no one wants to leave their house anyway. Seasonal Affective Disorder, anyone?

Months 15-18: It's Novruz again...and this time you're ready. You know what to expect, and it was the only thing that got you through those awfully cold nights. The paxlava is delicious. But somehow, over a year in this country has affected your immune system and you are sick - or should I say ill - really ill...and you're living alone. You just want someone to make you some soup. And you are craving ginger ale. It's rough.

Months 18-21: Your parents come, and through their visit, you realize how integrated you are, and how many people here love you and your company and just how much you have touched their lives. You realize that you arent here to change the world, you aren't capable of doing that. But you can change minds. And from there, lives. And you realize that you have already done that. Also, it's summer! Yes! Travel! Your own summer camp, because hey, by now, planning and executing a project is a breeze. COS is around the corner. But wait, I havent DONE anything! Well, ok, I've hosted clubs and camps and painted a mural and met a lot of people and made a lot of friends. Ok, I have done a lot. But I'm not READY to leave. I just got here! I have friends and students and basically a family here...not to mention a comfy house and a job and a paycheck. (A small paycheck, but it is independence). And that means I need to figure out what to do when I get back to America...wait, do I even go back to America? Graduate school? Travel like a bum? Get a job in a terrible economy? Um, stay in Azerbaijan a little longer? Yes.

Months 21-24: COS conference - but I'm not leaving. That's weird. All my friends are leaving. That sucks. Depression. Crap, I need to find some new friends...So you turn back to the friends you've had all along...your Azeri friends. And you realize that as much as you've changed their lives, they've changed yours in ways you'll never be able to express to them. You realize that what you thought you had figured out about the country and the culture...you really don't. You're just trying to get by like everyone else. You're just trying to be happy, and to spread a little bit of happiness along the way.

And now I'm at Month 24...and I'm trying to figure out what's happening. I've reached a strange moment of humility. I've accomplished all of the personal (read: selfish) goals I had set for myself, and now, I really am staying for others (read: my kids). But I've also found myself questioning: what more do I have to give them? I've seen the minds of some of these kids open up, and they are just taking off...they are capable of more than I could ever give them. I like to think that I helped them access that, but who knows? They've had it in them all along. That's what I think Peace Corps really is all about. We aren't changing the world. I have not changed the world. But I have changed minds...and I swear if anyone is going to change the world, it's the group of kids who I was just at club with. It's all in them.

On another note, I received acceptance letters from two of my graduate programs! Now I just need to figure out how to pay for them. Also, Boardwalk Empire is the best show currently on television.

I'm going to be honest, it's been a tough couple of weeks. Well, probably longer. But there is a lot of change happening, in my life here, my life at home. And it has been hard.

Here is what I am thankful for this year: I'm thankful for the struggle that I'm going through. Because what it means is that I have been so blessed in my life, that I don't want to let it all go. When I left two years ago I didn't know that things were going to start changing faster than I could ever imagine. I didn't know that I'd be giving pieces of my heart to new friends and to new family members, only to watch them leave. Or to leave them behind. I didn't know that when I returned I'd be creating a new life when I came back. I'm thankful that I have had all of these blessings, and all of these opportunities. And I'm thankful for all of the blessings that I hope and pray will be ahead.

Happy Thanksgiving. This is #3 overseas...and hopefully the last.

I've been kind of obsessed with this concept lately, the paradox of choice. This is a TED Talk by Barry Schwartz (I'm also a bit obsessed with TED Talks). He wrote a book. He talks about it.

My first year here in Peace Corps found me relatively content. Plugging away, doing my job. In retrospect, I realize often times where I found myself, was not born out of my choice. I didn't choose to come to Azerbaijan specifically, to come to Balaken specifically. I had one clear counterpart I was supposed to work with, I had only one option for independent housing. I was sent here. So I came. And because I'm the kind of person who tries to find the silver lining in everything, I made myself pretty happy.

Year two rolls around, and with it, a lot of choices. I have more teachers, more students, more classes, more projects, and more friends. Who do I spend my time with? What classes do I teach? Who do I work with? Which club do I teach?

And currently, there are even more choices.

As I look at whether stay in a house I've been in for a year and a half, or live in an apartment closer to work with better utilities.

As I look at whether or not to adopt a pet to help ease the loneliness.

As I look at whether or not I made the right choice to stay another 6 months...as I watch my friends leave.

As I see in the future the impending decision of what graduate school to attend, and once again, where to spend my life for two years.

We're sort of trained to believe 'the more the better,' and with that, the idea that the more choices we have the luckier we are.

Schwartz tells his point of view through an anecdote about buying jeans. All his life he bought the same kind of jeans...crappy, fit kind of odd, but once he broke them in they weren't so bad. He went to the store to buy a new pair, and was overwhelmed with several different styles of jeans. The salesperson asked, "What kind would you like?" He answered, "the same kind I always buy." An hour later, after trying on multiple pairs, he left the store with a bag in hand. The jeans fit better than the normal pair, and were actually of a better quality, but he found he was less satisfied than he usually was when he bought his new jeans.

Why?

He realized that with so many choices, he expected one of the pairs to be perfect. When none of them were perfect, his expectations weren't met and he was disappointed. When he expected the one pair of jeans to be crappy, and he got a crappy pair, his expectations were met. And he was satisfied.

The key to happiness is lower expectations.

This statement gets even more shocking when you think about expectations of people. I tend to have very high expectations of the people I am close with. Careful...

The more choices we have, the more chances there are to make the wrong choices. This causes anxiety. I agree with Schwartz in his theory that the escalation of depression rates might have something to do with the explosion of media and technology, and the subsequent barrage of choices we have raining down on us each day.

I'm currently working my way through The Unbearable Lightness of Being (the book - well audiobook - is definitely better than the movie). Tomas, a notorious womanizer, is dealing with his affection for Tereza. He doesn't know whether to let her live with him, or kick her out. He says he wishes he had two lives, so he could live out each of the possibilities, and then decide which is the best choice. Or, if he knew that he was going to live this life again, he could make a different choice in the next life, and he'd know that eventually he'd make the correct decision. But as we only live one life, we only get one choice, and we'll never really know.

It's easy to walk down a path that's been laid out for you. And if you are a generally positive person, you're going to have a generally positive time of it. But the moment you hit that fork in the road...

I guess you flip the coin, and the best of it. And more importantly, don't look back.

It got cold. Fast. I sat here freezing for about an hour, too stubborn to light my pec this early in October.

And then I lit it anyway.

This winter is gonna be a cold one, I can tell.

On Sunday, we enjoyed what may be one of our final nice days of the year by taking our rag tag softball team to Oguz for a tournament. We scrounged up 9 kids, hopped on a bus, and headed to the field. It turned out to be a great day. We won one of the three games, but the kids hardly noticed the losses, and were just happy to be out! We were joined by teams from Oguz, Kurdamir, Goycay, and Zaqatala. Three of our kids passed out in the back of the marshrutka on the way home they were so exhausted. (Once again, thank you to our donors to the Softball grant because we would not have gone without your help!!!)

Now, I'm still putzing around school without a schedule, hoping that something will materialize soon so I can get my own clubs started. Unfortunately, we have kids from the Russian sector school having classes in the afternoons until their school is repaired, so I'm losing rooms to have conversation clubs. My current project is graduate school applications. I did very well on my GMAT thank you, so I'm still applying to all the same 7 schools...and hating all the self-assessment essays. I'm tired of talking myself up (one reason why I couldn't cut it in the actors crowd), and I've realized how limited my vocabulary has become. Suddenly, I can't think of synonyms for 'skills' or 'experience.' It takes me way too long to get through an essay because I keep having to consult my thesaurus.

This is where being an extendee is a blessing. As all my fellow 7s are panicking, trying to say good-byes, teach, AND write graduate school applications in less than 6 weeks...I get to prioritize. For once, time is on my side. I hope it stays there for a while longer...

We hit our two year anniversary on October 1st. As in, two years in country. It's remarkable...I feel like I just showed up, but like I've been here forever. And yet I know that when I go home (or to Dubai), and start new things, this whole experience will be a distant dream. Like something that happened to a close friend...a lifetime away. That part of it is heartbreaking. I'm not worried about readjusting. I'm worried about forgetting.

Which do you believe? Absence makes the heart grow fonder? Or out of sight, out of mind?

The answer I keep coming too generally just makes me sad...

Well, they started out as the usual birthday cupcakes. And then I got an idea!

First, make some vanilla cupcakes, and if you're feeling festive, add a little food coloring to make them pretty.

Second, with a knife, cut a cone out of the top of the cupcake. Scoop a spoonful of peanut butter into a ziploc baggie, and cut off a corner. Squeeze a dollop of peanut butter into the cupcake.

So it looks all cute. Put the top of the cone back onto the top of the cupcake, so you've hidden the peanut butter.

Add icing (in this case, nutella) and a dollop of peanut butter to finish it off.

Enjoy with friends! (But be sure to hoard a few in your fridge for later...they're great with Georgian coffee!)

With the beginning of school and the changing of weather, it's officially fall. Nar is growing on the trees, pears fall and make a thudding sound on the roof of my kitchen. And things move along.

Typical of the Azerbaijani schools, my school still doesn't have a set schedule, so teaching has been sporadic to say the least. It's good to see the kids, and it's nice because this year, I'll be teaching extensively with two different counterparts. I'm hoping that this week we'll have something a little more set, so that I can begin to select classes and make a plan for the year. I'd like to do another English Evening (a la my Azeri Christmas Pageant of last year...), get some teacher trainings set up, and maybe even take some of my own time to drop in at the Internat School once a week or so. I also need to arrange a clubs schedule, but I'm waiting for the schools to have everything in place, and for students to finalize their tutoring schedules, before getting anything written down.

Tuesday we'll be taking the kids to Sheki for the FLEX exam like we did last year, the only difference is this year, I feel like some of our students have a very good chance. We've been preparing them for a while now, and the group this year is stronger and more enthusiastic. Fingers crossed.

October is going to be madness (as I find October always is), because softball is in full swing. In one month we have three tournaments to get to (a little ambitious considering we haven't been to a tournament yet...), but I think we can get our kids ready. On that note, a big THANK YOU to everyone who donated to our grant, we ended up filling it at the last minute, and now we're able to compete!

In the personal sphere, good news on my end! It comes in the form of a successfully completed GMAT. That is one stressful test, and I'm glad it's over. I got the score I wanted, and luckily, am still in the running for all the programs I wanted to apply to. It's a big amount of stress off of my shoulders, though I know there is more around the corner in the form of applications, essays, resumes, and recommendations. Sigh.

I took the test in Tbilisi, and went along with Trey, Jake, Jake's parents, and Lori. We had a lovely time, and it was a nice way to really acknowledge the end of summer and time to get back to work. We spent the first day taking a tour of a winery in Sighnaghi, a small town on the way to Tbilisi from Balaken. We wandered the vineyard, plucking different grape varieties right off the vine. (There are over 500 grape varieties growing in Georgia - impressive considering there are only about 1200 known grape varieties in the world - and the owner of the vineyard has collected about 230 of these varieties and planted them just for tasting - not production - in the vineyard). We saw the traditional winemaking style of Georgia, putting the grapes for fermentation directly into qvery, or clay pots, buried in the ground. We drove to the town to the tasting room for a great meal and a nice wine tasting. The wines were definitely better than anything I get in Azerbaijan (save Caspian Coast wines - those are pretty good), but they weren't amazing. Unrefined might be the best word.

That night Lori and I headed to Tbilisi for our tests, we checked into the hostel and had a hot chocolate night cap in the nicer part of Old Town Tbilisi. Next morning I headed to the test a ball of nerves, but ready. That afternoon we met up with the rest of the gang and spent the evening and next morning eating delicious Georgian food (it's sooooo good, potato xenqeli that reminds me of pierogies, badimcani that is eggplant with a garlic-walnut paste, and of course, xacapuri - cheesy bread!), wine tasting (you can walk into any wine shop and immediately be offered a taste of the shop keepers favorites), and delicious ice cream (a great shop, like gelato, only lighter - strawberry/lemon and banana-coffee were the highlight combos). And then, back on a marsh, and back to reality.

I've got a lot ahead of me. A lot to do, a lot to accomplish, and yet, I still feel like I need something more concrete to keep me occupied. It's hard, watching the 7s get ready to leave, knowing that I'll be here for another 6 months. Sometimes I question my choice to stay, but then I see my kids and I know what I'm doing here. I just need to remind myself of that when I'm back in my empty house. Dad's doing great in the UAE, and Mom's getting ready to move. It's hard being apart from them, and knowing that we're all in different countries. I feel fragmented. I feel like I'm not completely in one place at any one time. Martin Seligman would say I've lost my flow. (Points if you get that reference...) I'll find it.

I'll leave you with some images of Georgia!

St. Stephan's Church in Sighnaghi...

The wine's we tasted, all from Pheasant's Tears Vineyard. (Those are the reds, on the right is chacha, which is alcohol distilled from the remains of the winemaking process - grape skins and the like. It is usually clear, but this one is gold because it is aged in oak. Makes it so much smoother than typical chacha...)

The little road of Sighnaghi.

The vineyard and qvery - the clay pots. Generally they are buried, and the ones Pheasant's Tears uses are much larger - about 4 meters deep.

And Tbilisi. Lovely lovely Tbilisi. Photo taken from the fortress on the hill.

So we had some fun last Saturday, Mike came up from Zaqatala and helped us make a movie. Our kids took the book "Play Ball, Amelia Bedelia" (anybody remember those books?) and turned it into a script. It's our first pro movie, can't wait for more. Any Oscar noms coming out of this one? Not sure yet, but pay close attention to the evil-American cameo...

Enjoy!

Order.

Design.

Composition.

Tone.

Form.

Symmetry.

Balance.

More red...

And a little more red...

Blue blue blue blue

Blue blue blue blue

(points if you can name that musical...)

And so, that's how the creation of the world began.

Well, actually it started with a coat of primer, on an empty wall in the local Children's Library.

We taped out some stuff, painted an Ocean blue, and then using a projector, we sketched the world onto the wall.

And then, the fun began. Country by country, matching it up to a PCV-produced handbook, deciding which country should be which color. Defining the borders, filling in the middle (I can say more than once we did have to re-negotiate some territories. Due to a pixelated projection, there were more than a few disputed areas.)

Some kids had really never painted before, so we had to go step by step with them, how to hold a brush, how to get the right amount of paint. But they have turned out to be great little artists, with quite the curiosity for geography. Before letting any of them paint, they had to identify which country they were painting, and sometimes even the capitals!

Each day, we took a progress shot...

And each day, more and more kids showed up. If you paint it, they will come...The World Map Project is a thing many volunteers do around PC countries, but as this was the first one in Azerbaijan (what what!!), we wanted to make ours special. Around the sides, we have cities and the distance to them from Balaken, and along the top we listed several different cities and the time differences from Balaken.And of course, we had to put the Peace Corps Azerbaijan logo...

Finally, complete!!

Looks good? I think our next one will be a more freeform mural...we've tapped the talent, let's let it loose!

I should be studying for the GMAT right now. I have all day...

Instead, I made muffins. Made some coffee. And read the NYTimes.

Kind of like a normal Sunday morning?

Came across a fantastic article, all about Hugh Laurie. Apparently, he's releasing an album.

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/09/04/magazine/hugh-laurie-sings-the-blues.html

There are only so many film actors I truly admire for their work (though let it be noted that most of these great film actors got their start/have also had significant roles in the theatre). Marlon Brando (duh.) Bill Nighy. Emma Thompson. Meryl Streep (again, duh). Phyllip Seymour Hoffman. Of course there are more. And of course there are plenty of stage actors I also have deep respect for. But let's deal with the big names...

Hugh Laurie is also one of those actors, as he seems to be able to do what he wants when he wants, and pull it off rather gracefully. That was the kind of actor I always wanted to be. Smart. Competent. Consistent. I never really aspired to be the actor with moments of brilliance, but just one who could always be relied upon to deliver a solid performance. That seemed to be more in my skill set. And I suppose if I go back to it and continue to work my butt off, I could achieve that. But with that comes so many other obstacles, and so many other challenges...

Image, for one. I'm a little too tall, I have this crazy birthmark (more than once I've been told by the costume director, "We'll probably have to cover that. But let's see how it plays in the light." A respected Cleveland actor told me about my headshots, "I'm glad you're confident enough to show your birthmark here. But you probably can't use these.")

I for one, appreciate Laurie's comment: “I think good-looking people seldom make good television,” he said. “And American television studios almost concede before they start: ‘Well, it won’t be good, but at least it’ll be good-looking. We’ll have nice-looking girls in tight shirts with F.B.I. badges and fit-looking guys with lots of hair gel vaulting over things. So at least we’ll have achieved that base standard of entertainment.’ ” Now, I think there are some pretty competent, pretty attractive actors out there (Natalie Portman comes to mind...yes boys, I appreciate her talent, not just her looks). But the idea that you have to be pretty to be successful is just downright offensive.

I encountered a similar bias in one of my auditions for college. I walked into the audition, and the director of the Musical Theatre program looked at my application, looked at my GPA and SAT scores (enough to get me to NYU and to graduate to 10 in my high school class...) and he said to me, "Why do you want to be an actress?" Implying that I was somehow too smart to be an actor. Thank you sir, I officially hate your program.

I suppose like any business, there is plenty of crap out there, and plenty of foolish people who give a bad name to what I still believe is a truly special, and truly necessary craft. But in Hollywood, when someone casts a movie, nowadays they aren't casting a part, they're casting a celebrity. I don't want to go to a movie and see Julia Roberts fall in love with Richard Gere. I want to see characters, I want to see real people I can relate to. I can't relate to Julia Roberts. Her legs are too long and her mouth is too big. And she makes way too much money.

That's part of the beauty of acting, and the beauty of the theater. It's a space to watch other people play out our biggest hopes and our biggest fears. We let them make the mistakes, we let them speak the words that we ourselves are too afraid to say to each other. But when they are up on that stage, right in front of us, we can't help but live through it a little bit too...

That's why, this is for you Sarah Palin (ahem!), organizations like the NEA are important. Probably even more so now, when families are dealing with a bigger crisis than they've known before. How many of the great American Theater pieces are about financial instability, economic hardship, and family strife?

I don't know when this turned into a manifesto on the need for theater in an economic crisis. I just wanted to talk about how cool Hugh Laurie is.

I suppose it's on my mind, as I hear about theaters losing money, and thinking about my own future, attempting to jump onto a sinking ship and try and see what I can save. (Man, I am melodramatic.)

But, to bring it back full circle, I have a huge respect for these actors, who are intelligent, humble, talented, and can remain somewhat normal in the face of an unstable career, that puts limitless demands on you. You chose a lifestyle that I just don't want for myself. But you do wonderful things with it.

I'm going to go take a 3hour practice test. Hopefully I'll score high enough to get into a program that'll help me get a job, and give you a place to work your magic.

27 months is a long time to be out of America. It's a long time to dedicate yourself to one place, to one job, to one group of people. I've never held a job this long in my life, and past high school, never lived in one place this long either. I've either moved from one place to another, or there's always been another home. At NYU, I always had Cleveland. In Cleveland, I was always going off to NYU.

It's been a challenge for me actually, to sit still this long. I like to move, I like to travel, I like to bounce around. But it's forced me to slow down. The pace of life in NYC was killer, and here, I just have to take things day by day. I enjoy sitting in my garden drinking coffee. Or just sitting there, thinking. Things move slower in Azerbaijan too, meetings don't start on time, they start when everyone gets there. Classes get paused for families, plans get rearranged when it rains.

Sometimes, I really like it. It gets frustrating at times from a very Western-OCD worker, but it helps with priorities. And of course, what I like most, is the people. I've made some of the closest relationships I've ever had in this country, with Americans, Azerbaijanis, Georgians, Russians...it's surprising. And somehow not surprising that as my 27 months comes to an end in December - and all of my AZ7 mates talking about what they're going to do and how they are so excited to go home - I find it difficult to think about leaving.

I've never done super well with transitions. (See former blog entries). But this one is going to be especially hard, and I've been fortunate enough to get approval from Peace Corps to stay for another 6 months. That makes my new COS date June 9, 2012. It'll give me time to finish out the school year, and end on a positive note - instead of just not showing up to school one day...

After coming back from America, I had some second thoughts about seeking the extension. I realized a lot of things when I was home - some very difficult things - that made me question the need to stay pass my contract. I have given my time, so maybe it's time for me to focus on taking care of myself (the medical stuff alone I've dealt with might warrant just taking some good 'ol R&R)...but on the other hand, I genuinely do want to stay. I have more work to do - granted, there will always be more work to do - and I have people here I really care about - and yes, they'll always be difficult to leave - but this buys me just a little more time...

It isn't going to be easy. I'm already finding myself in this weird middle place with not too many people to relate to. Fellow 7s are planning on leaving Azerbaijan, life after PC, graduate school, travel plans, talking about seeing their families and eating Chipotle. To the 8s, I'm still a Senior, and I am still a little futher ahead than they are when it comes to my own planning and my own mindset. Fortunately, there are about 4 of us 7s (that I know of so far) who are staying, and that's a comforting thought. It's going to be good. It's going to be hard. Never one to take the easy road, I'm looking forward to the challenge....

After a clearly depressing two weeks (see many previous posts), it was time for a break. The side effects of the antibiotics had worn down…it seemed…and so I headed to Ismayilli to meet Matt, and from there we went to a little village in Lahic.

Lahic is an old little village, tucked beyond winding roads and rocky mountain passes. I have no doubt that it would be nearly impossible – if not lethal – to try and make this journey in bad weather. We got lucky because it was sunny, and the temperature was just right.

After a cramped ride in a small melon-filled vehicle from a Lahic villager, we arrived in a very medieval looking town. Narrow cobblestone streets, flanked by mid-sized buildings with wooden doors and balconies and dark iron work. Doors open to shops filled with handmade crafts, and even a few guys more than happy to let you try on some “Azeri cultural clothing” and take a picture (for at least a manat, of course…).

We stayed at a guesthouse near the mosque, run by a fantastic gentleman named Ibrahim. He showed us to a quaint room with a lovely balcony, and offered us whatever we needed. We spent the afternoon walking the city, talking on the balcony, and then had dinner. He was kind enough to let us buy our own food and use the kitchen to cook, and the whole time he was standing over me, making sure I prepared everything right. He insisted on checking to see if the potatoes were properly fried, and warned me about the “microbes” on tomatoes if I didn’t wash them. Before heading to bed, he assured us if there was anything else we needed, he’d be more than happy to provide it.

The next morning we made breakfast, and met Ibrahim’s friend Iktiyar, who continued to try and persuade Matt to do shots of vodka with him. (It was 10am). He asked Matt for permission to offer me a shot (they thought we were married, if you’re going to offer anything to a woman, you must ask her husband…so…). Naturally I cut in, and for once, the antibiotics proved to be a good excuse. (Though of course this turned into a discussion about the benefits of natural medicine, and Ibrahim assured me that he could cure me in one week with his herbal tea, where it takes my Western Antibiotics two weeks…).

After breakfast we hiked up the river to a waterfall, which, honestly, was less than impressive. So we hiked to above the waterfall and hung out there for a while. Back to the guesthouse for lunch, and then, as Ibrahim had promised, he arranged for us to go horseback riding.

There was some confusion at first, because Ibrahim assumed we knew how to ride, and was just going to give us a couple of horses. Since this was not the case (I haven’t been on a horse since girl scout camp), Ibrahim’s idea of arranging a guided tour was to convince two local boys, who seemed to have nothing better to do, to humor us by letting us ride their horses around. So our two guides, Seymour (think Adrian Grenier type), and Kid with a Cowboy Hat (he had some ‘tude…loved him) took us to ride their horses Qafqaz (Azeri for Caucasus) and Demir (Azeri for Iron) up into the mountains.

It was so much fun. They didn’t give up the reigns so much at first, just leading us up and letting us look. The view of the mountains was beautiful, and you could see villages that go even past Lahic. We went up to an apple orchard and took a rest there, and then Matt and I switched horses for the ride home.

This is where the crazy began. At this point, Seymour and Kid with a Cowboy Hat seemed to think we were pros, and they just let us go. Which was great, until both of our horses took off at full gallop, and I wasn’t really sure how to stop Qafqaz. Fortunately, I knew to stand up when the horse is running, (though I still think I bruised my tailbone a bit), and he seemed to eventually understand my request to stop. I was a little scared for my life there…just a bit…

After the ride we had dinner, and the next day, when the Peace Corps salary ran out, it was time to go home. Being outside, being active, being relaxed, was really just what I needed. I headed out sad it was over, but re-energized as well…I knew the next few weeks were only going to get hectic once again…

August 12 has been named International Youth Day by the UN, and because yours truly and her siteys are so awesome, we were invited down to Baku to help the UNDPI with their big youth day event.

We hopped on an early morning marsh (Trey had to sit in a stool in the aisle), and got into Baku early afternoon. We headed over to SOS Children’s Village youth house to begin the event.

SOS Children’s Village takes in orphaned children, and while the main village is outside of Baku, a Youth House is in the city for older students. There are also perks for “graduates” of the village, like a resource center in town and continuing guidance. It’s a really great program, and the UNDPI branch of Baku chose them to host the event.

The old PC housing coordinator now works for the UNDPI, and when she heard about our arts camp, called us up and asked us to come down and organize an art project for the students to do, to kick of the event.

We arrived, and immediately got to work. This year’s theme is “Change the World,” and the focus of the last year of programming has been about dialogue and communication. We opened with a discussion about art, what art is, what art styles exist, etc, and also discussed how art can be a form of communication, and can be used as a means to express a difficult or lofty idea.

We gave each kid a square of construction paper, and told them to draw from one of two prompts:

1) What is one small think you can do to change the world?

2) If you could send a message to a world leader, what would you say?

They got to drawing, and it was really inspiring to see the kind of independent ideas they had, and the sheer skill they had in sketching. As they finished, we took each square and compiled them into a quilt of sorts, to hang in the Youth House.

It looked bomb. I drew the middle square based on this year’s logo and theme, and the rest was the kids!

After that, there were speeches and introductions by participating organizations, UNDPI, OSCE, Save the Children, SOS Children’s Village, us (!). Then we went upstairs for a concert prepared by the youth.

There was music and lip-syncing, but what got me most was the dancing. Most Azeri dancing is cultural, and very formulaic. The two pieces we saw were modern, lyrical, and told a story, or dealt with an idea. The first was a young girl in a white dress, and it seemed through the piece she was discovering her identity, and becoming a strong woman. The second presented two girls dressed identically, facing the audience, seemingly mirroring each other. At one point, their lives split, and you can see as one girl chooses a path of study and moral fortitude, while the other gets corrupted by drugs, alcohol and rock and roll (yeah, rock and roll…). At one point in the dance, both girls seemed to be walking and they came to a door. For the one girl, the door opened at a simple turn. For the other, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get it open.

I was really proud we got to be part of this event, and proud to meet such intelligent, creative youth. I have no doubt that any one of these kids will be able to open any door placed in front of them.

Literally. The temperature has been consistently above 100 this week, and I've been losing my $#@!.

When I woke up to the rain this morning it was like the fever was breaking. I'm finally relieved and rational enough to blog about it.

From past blogs, you'll note, coming back was not so fun, and I was/am having some adjustment issues. I've been sick on and off probably since March, and so upon my return Dr. Sevinj asked me to come in for some tests.

Sevinj is a rock star. But having a camera attached to a tube shoved down your throat is never fun.

So when I got the meds she prescribed me, I was relieved. Only to be afflicted by fever and nausea and vomiting on the first day of taking them.

These symptoms suck anyway, but when your body temperature matches the temperature outside, and the only relief you have is a fan and ice cubes...life sucks. The minutes just creep by...leaving me to lie in bed and either a) watch the entire Human Planet series (which is bomb and I'm obsessed with by the way) or b) stress out and worry about your future and your life and your friends (who either seem terriby far away, or are dealing with their own kind of crazy). When I wasn't doing a, I was doing b. And repeat.

I was lucky in that it passed, and now the 6 pill a day regimen I'm on for the next 11 days doesn't seem like a death sentence. (I swear these drugs were still manufactured by the devil - until they actually work. Then I'll get back to you). So I went out yesterday (because my home, once a place of sanctuary, started to seem like a prison. The little trinkets and reminders of home seemed to mock me, saying "You're not here! Nah nah nah nah nah nah!" And the GMAT book just looked so big...), went to Zaqatala to see friends which was exactly what I needed.

I now understand how they say loneliness can legitimately affect your health, and make you lose your mind. Solitary confinement anyone?

Though yesterday had its own kind of crazy, when first off, I apparently realized I'm a VERY interesting person, because I discovered some strange rumors floating around about me. One I won't get into for personal reasons, the other, I discovered from a neighbor girl on the way home.

Girl: "Sen kocurubsen?" (Meaning literally, "Have you moved?" In AZ, when this is asked to a girl, it means, "Have you moved into your husband's home?"

Me: "WHAT?!" (and here I'll switch to English because I don't know how to type Azeri characters).

Girl: "Yes, did you get married? I have heard this."

Me: "Uhh, nooo...not that I know of. Still single!" (I say with a helpless sort of shrug)

I'm assuming (hoping) that this is just a misinterpretation of "Stephanie went to America for a wedding." But you never really know...

Fortunately, the cabin fever/depression went from bouts of sobbing on Weds/Thurs, and hit the point of absurdity with these rumors, so now it all just seems funny.

Also, it's cooler, and somehow that's inspired me to take a rainy day work day and actually figure some stuff out in regards to grad school. Productivity. Always a good distraction.

This is also a good distraction, and will give you sort of an idea about how I've been feeling lately.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F-bbbQDjkTY

I don't know why there are subtitles...

One of the first books I read in country was Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert. Generally I liked it. If you aren't familiar, it is her personal story of coming to terms with a difficult divorce, while travelling and trying to find herself.

What she finds along the way, is a Brazilian man named Felipe. They fall in love. Book ends.

Book doesn't end though, as both of them have survived difficult divorces, they pledge to never marry. Which generally wouldn't be an issue, until the Dept. of Homeland Security devides to never let Felipe into the country again.

So, their only option, if they want to live in America, is - to get married.

Leave it to Elizabeth Gilbert to be faced with a challenge and spend many months and an entire book obsessing about the issue.

Hmm. Sounds like something I would do.

So, cut to me coming home and my mother handing me a copy of the book Committed.(My Mom's been working on it since December, I devoured it in about a week).

Note: My mother tried to convince me to read the book by citing a passage that stated why men and women get married, and the benefits to each of them . Turns out the benefits are largely skewed in favor of the man, in that married men live longer lives, make more money, are less prone to depression and alcoholism, and are less likely to die a violent death. In all instances the OPPOSITE is true for women. Married women do not live longer, they make less money, are more prone to depression and alcoholism, and are more likely to die a violent death (more often than not at the hands of their husbands). Thanks Mom, for pointing this out to me. Are you trying to tell me something?

It's enough to say I enjoyed the book, but not just because I went to a friend's wedding back home, and one of the first things I did after coming back was go to an Azeri toy (wedding).

I was struck most by her discussion of choice. Gilbert introduces the paradox of how in society after society, the moment marriage is allowed to be based on choice, and love and freedom of intention, the divorce rate skyrockets. How is it that arranged marriages end in less divorce?

Turns out, arranged marriages are usually arranged with the support of the entire community. Usually these matches are based on financial stability, the merging of land or funds, or tend to be more pleasing to the community as a whole, and therefore have more investment from others. (This isnt to say these marriages are necessarily happier - it is possible in these cases couples are locked in a state of unhappiness because they aren't allowed to divorce...but we'll shelve that point for a moment).

In the society I've grown up in, I've always been told to wait for the right moment, to wait for love, and to choose when I am ready. This makes the choice to marry ultimately personal, making it that much harder for outsiders to support and have a share in my personal commitment. At the same time, when the power is left to me, it gives me a choice. When there is a choice, when there is more than one possible option, there is ultimately anxiety. Anxiety that I will make the wrong choice, anxiety that the path I choose will turn out to be less satisfying than the other path (or paths) I could have gone down.

Cut to 15 years down the road, when all that white-knight stuff has faded away, and you're left with this man sitting across from you drinking coffee, and you think, "What if..." Dissatisfaction (maybe) begins to grow. Some relationships make it through, and for a million varied reasons, some relationships dont.

Note: I grew up in a loving family, and my parents just celebrated 25 (generally) blissful years of marriage together. I know nothing about divorce, I know nothing about the kind of pain it can cause having to make that decision, and the guilt and sorrow that must come along with it. I will never pretend to know, and I hope I never will know. But unfortunately, I can't be sure. I'm just trying to talk about trends. And culture.

I was taught that I am entitled to happiness, and I shouldn't settle for anything less. It's no wonder that when things get tough, I look for ways to fix it. I was also taught that love is real, love is true, and that I deserve to be loved unconditionally.

I think it boils down to expectations, and choice.

You make a choice. If your expectations are unrealistic, whatever choice you made will never be satisfying.

Sometimes, I look at my own future and see too many choices, and too many possibilities for disappointment. (I also have slightly depressive tendencies, which according to a recent TIME article means I am able to more realistically forecast my future than optimists. That's a sad statistic). But then I step back and I look at some Azeri women who don't have a choice. Whose expectations are likely more realistic than the average American bride...and I wonder.

The divorce rates here are very low, because divorce is stigmatized and second weddings (for women at least) are basically unheard of. But there's always a price. Low divorce rate could signify better external support systems for couples (from th family and from the community), and couples more willing to work it out and accomodate each other. But it could also mean more unhappy marriages. I suppose in America, the price we pay for the freedom to love who we want and how we want, and to chase after our own happiness, we have to accept that sometimes, we're going to want a way out.

Marriage is a very social contract, and the more we have personalized our choices, the harder it is to allow marriage to be something that the community is part of. Maybe that's why marriage is on the decline in America.

If I've learned anything from living in a society with strange rules and customs, and trying to maintain my own relationship in this foreign place, i've learned that it's personal, and it's a choice. And with that, comes the beautiful freedom to write your own rules, and your own story.

And whatever the sacrifice, I will always choose to have that freedom.

My father arrived in Dubai.

He got off the plane, the driver picked him up, and call to prayer started.

Driver promptly left him alone for a few minutes so he could go do namaze.

Welcome to a Muslim country, Daddy.

Ramadan starts tonight (or so I've been told), also, a great time to show up in an Islamic society. People in Azerbaijan are more socially conservative than they are religious, so if it is like last year, I doubt I'll see much change because of the holiday. But in the UAE, stuff shuts down.

Though it is damn hot. My electricity bill is going to be ridiculous because all I do is run my fan, 24/7. This baby is getting a good work out.

Being back at site has been nice - good to be in my house. Even though I came home and it looked like someone had robbed me. No no, my landlady had shown up, and 'cleaned' and rearranged things how she saw fit.

Whatever.

Everything seems to still be here. Generally.

I haven't done any clubs yet (we don't do much on the weekends), but I saw two of my girls and we have softball tonight - and I'm super excited to see everyone's faces.

It's strange to be back, especially since I've arrived as a lot of crazy is going on around me. Not crazy happening to me, just going on around me, and it is hard not to internalize all of it. I had a lot of realizations when I was home, one being that I think I've gotten most of what I want out of this experience. Personally, at least, I feel like I've achieved what I set out to do. There's some big stuff in the next few months, and if I have to leave in December, it'll be a fine way to go.

*note: I almost wrote, "if I have to go home in Dec," but then I realized that I wouldn't be going home. I'd be starting something else...it's odd to constantly be checking and revising your vocabulary, and the things you've been saying for months on end...

I don't think it's news to anyone at this point that I'm considering extending, and I'll find out in the next 2 weeks if Peace Corps has approved me to stay.

That's one of those things I'm getting used to. Sitting in my uncertainty. It's not fun, I don't like it, but I'm used to it.

It's hot. I don't like the heat. I miss air conditioning. And, you know, my family and friends. Them too. :)

I’m having a complicated relationship with adjectives.

Namely, that I can’t find the right one. Or I seem to be using/hearing the same few over and over again:

Crazy

different

exciting

interesting

Those are the only four things people keep saying about my life.

I mean, I’ve never thought about myself as special, or unique. I’m just an only child who grew up in a predominantly white, relatively affluent, suburb of Cleveland. Except for a few minor, recent, developments.

I’m in the Peace Corps in Azerbaijan. As I’m thinking about moving on and coming home, my parents are moving to Dubai.

Huh?

America was amazing. Before leaving AZ, I dreaded going home mainly because I knew it would be so hard to leave. And today, it was so hard to leave.

My friends at the wedding almost had me convinced not to go. Angela’s sleepy voice this morning (the first thing I heard):

Stephy?

Yeah?

Don’t go…

Coming home made me realize just how much I gave up to be a PC volunteer. I know I’ve said this before, about going to London and Vienna and Istanbul, you see the modern world and look at the technology you’ve missed, you eat food that you haven’t seen in a while, and you enjoy some social freedoms you gave up to be here.

But this week I went home and stepped back into my old life. And got a glimpse of what I could be if I were there.

And you know what? I liked it.

Perspective. It put things in perspective for me. It’s easy to sit in my house in Balaken and get caught up in the little things, be absorbed by all the worries and the stresses of living in Azerbaijan, get bogged down by the stares and the questions. But going home helped me remember where I came from. What I’ve achieved. And what my life used to look like. And what my life can and will look like when all this is over.

Unfortunately, I’m childish and want it all right now. Friends. Closeness. Stability.

I missed a lot in these 22 months. I missed weddings, births, deaths, developments. My friends have grown into beautiful , independent people with real lives and jobs. My cousin is so much taller, smart as a whip, and totally into Harry Potter…we had great conversations. But through them I also got to see how much I’ve grown too. The person I was two years ago is, I’m thrilled to say, not the person I am now. But that didn’t stop me from jumping back into life at home like no time had passed. That’s how I know the relationships are true. After however many years, I was still invited to be part of one of the most romantic and personal weddings I’ve ever seen. I picked up old conversations like we just hung up the phone, inside jokes are still funny, only now they’ve got a different feel to them.

As expected, I cried my share of the time during my friend’s wedding ceremony (and I was a bridesmaid, so it wasn’t a secret), but I held it together for the most part. That is, until the reception. My friends are music majors, and the chorale gathered together again to perform an acapella song called, “Hear My Prayer.” I stood there, listening to the voices, hugging my best friend, and suddenly, it all caught up with me. All the big, crazy, exciting changes in my life…and everything that I’ve had to miss out on to enjoy them. And I do miss singing. It was ok though, knowing what I have created in PC. But what got me was the slow song that came next, when my Dad asked me to dance. I haven’t danced with him probably since the Girl Scout Father Daughter Dance in middle school. Thinking about him embarking on this adventure to Dubai (him being the guy who never left America until last summer when I made him and Mom meet me in Istanbul), my mom staying in Westlake until she closes up her practice, and me going to Az the next day (staying for who knows how long) was just too much to take. The life that I had so comfortably slipped back into in Ohio was there just as long as I was. It’s Sunday, and my Dad is moving Thursday. The timing couldn’t have been better, for me to give one last little goodbye to things the way I always knew them.

I guess I should be thankful that every time I leave a place it's really hard for me. It means I have a lot of great ties, in a lot of great places. But right now, there's a lot up in the air.

Everything is changing. It’s exciting. It’s scary.

It’s crazy.

I thought once I left Azerbaijan people would stop trying to marry me off to their sons.

The manager at Original Pancake House fixed that one for me.

I used to dress cute.

I'm eating a lot, but somehow, the food isn't as good as I had built it up to be in my mind. I'm making a homecooked meal tonight that miraculously resembles something I'd make in my Azeri kitchen. Add asparagus and avacado.

The beer is as good as I remember. Thank you Market Brewery 6-tastes flight.

The community theater is still there. Some of the faces are new, some of the faces are old. The Pizza Hut is an El Senor crappy mexican restaurant. My bedroom is there, but looks like a posh hotel room. The yellow walls and black bedding contrast more now without the vases of sunflowers and childhood trinkets. Oh yeah, and there is a baseball player living in my bedroom now too. I get to sleep in the guest room. The house smells like artificial fresh and is impeccably clean. The lawns are all too well manicured to be real. Everyone is on their cell phones all the time, I find myself frustrated when my friends in AZ don't text back within the hour, whereas my US friends seemed to be glued to their phones.

PC feels like a dream. I think this is what Alice felt like when she climbed out of the rabbit hole.

I'm back, and I fit in like nothing. But in the back of my mind images of camping trips and Azeri kids playing softball dance around and nag at me like small children seeking attention. I tell my stories, and my friends dutifully listen and nod and respond at the appropriate times. But they've moved on. My friend's are getting married for goodness sake, I'm just honored to be involved.

It's great to be home. It sucks too. I suppose it just comes with the job.

I couldn't have asked for it to go better.

It was the perfect storm of planned chaos.

I planned like crazy. Knowing that my plan would fall to shambles at one point or another.

We had:

(at least) 4 people throw up (*all counselors)

One back injury

One twisted ankle

One child need medical attention (just some scrapes)

One girl back out of the showcase due to stage fright

One belly-flop competition into a kiddie pool in my back yard

One epic game of softball (yeah my team won. Thanks to Resul's awesome pitching)

One stage-combat brawl in Heydar Park (the kids started it, I swear I didn't prompt that one)

Friday and Saturday, Jake, Bailey and I did a ton of running around to buy materials, prep the space, prep for registration, and thanks to Loki's help, screen print 64 t-shirts to be tie-dyed on Monday. Sunday was a pre-camp training for our Azeri counterparts, just to get them in the right state of mind.

Monday: Writing and Dance. Dance was a big hit as Clarissa and Lori decided to teach LMFAO's Party Rock Shuffle. Summer. Anthem. 2011. Writing was great, day one just had the kids decorating their notebooks and talking about story writing. Break time saw us tie-dying t-shirts...and no one could wait to unwravel their shirts and see what the creation looked like!

Tuesday: Writing and Dance. Dance was a continuation of the day before, and saw the addition of salsa. In writing the kids began to write their own dramas. Tuesday night, volunteers went to the park for an awesome dinner and a ride on the dragon! Tuesday's break time was more arts and crafts and sports. Friendship bracelets are (as expected) the big hit, but the fortune-telling cootie catchers are also a real winner!

Wednesday: Music and Photography. Trey led the kids on a walk around Balaken after teaching the basics of photography. Matt took over Music and did a Music Around the World lesson, exposing the kids to different styles of music, limbo, and even having them make their own instruments. Today's break was more arts and crafts, and blowing stuff up. Try putting a couple mentos into a 1L bottle of diet coke. Just try it...

Thursday: Music and Photography. Trey took the kids out again and had them do some slightly more advanced photo-taking (not just pictures of themselves), and Matt taught the kids some American and Azeri favorites, like Five Little Ducks, and Running Scared. Today was our last day of arts and crafts at break, and there was still plenty to do!

Friday: Visual Art and Drama. Mike and Erika helped the kids make salt dough and did some stop motion animation with them, while I led Drama. We played some basic drama games, and then with the little kids we made paper bag puppets, and then to the older kids I taught some basic stage combat (hair/ear pull, slap, punch, throw/fall). Today was the epic Balaken Arts Camp Olympics, where three teams competed in approximately 6 different competitions to bring home the Championship. The Yellow Team of Trinidad and Tobago took it home after the final competition - the Egg Drop. (This is also where yours truly twisted her ankle by falling into a hidden 10-inch hole in the lawn. My team won though, so it was worth it!) AFter camp the counselors came back to my house for a picnic, and that's where the kiddie pool and some creative kitchen/bar skills came out. We met all the kids in the park after, and played games, rode rides, and ate ice cream!

Saturday: Visual Art and Drama. Today in Visual they made picture frames and did other arts and crafts, and in Drama we worked on preparing skits for that night's showcase. At 6pm we invited parents, teachers, neighbors, siblings, and even one of the heads of the ministry to see what we had worked on all week. The reception was amazing, and everyone was thrilled!

Again, I cant begin to explain how thrilled I was that this camp went so well. Some people have had criticisms for it being too structured, but all I can say is that for a camp this size, with this specific of goals, it just had to be. I think of myself as lucky that in my site, I can do something this big, this expansive, and expect this much out of my kids and fellow PCVs. I want to thank all the kids for their enthusiasm and their effort, all the PCVs for their dedication and energy, and all the people in America who sent us materials and money. It wouldn't have worked without every piece of the puzzle. Thanks!!

Next stop: America!

Today was one of those really productive days, where I didn't even leave my house.

After running around Zaqatala yesterday trying to find and build a contraption for screen printing, we succesfully brought it home last night, and used it today to screen print 64 t-shirts.

Yes, 64 shirts.

It is pretty satisfying, seeing 64 shirts neatly folded on the bed, all with the design I drew saying "Balakan Arts Camp 2011" printed on them. Some of them took on a horror movie feel, as the screen built up paint, and the letters look like they're running a little bit. It's ok, we've got some emo kids. But they do look great. White shirts with black print, and then Monday we'll tie-dye them. Them and my new cheap fake converse tennis shoes I bought at the bazar...the ones that say "ALL SPRT" Yeah, I don't know either.

The SPA Grant money is in. I've already had a few freak outs about whether or not I had misplaced money, but in each instance it turned out I forgot I had given somebody some cash for something or other. As of right now, I still know how to do math, and I haven't screwed anything up yet.

Materials have been purchased and sorted. I've gone through our boxes of donations to come up with project ideas (including God's eyes and friendship bracelets, hand puppets and picture frames), and then bought more stuff when needed (like for a variety of science experiments we are doing: mentos and coke, a volcano, etc etc).

Applications are in. We've got about 30 confirmed, and we're planning on a few day-of registrations, so we're hoping for 40 kids.

Tomorrow we're training our Azerbaijani counterparts. Bailey's put together a nice neat little training that I'm hoping people will show up to and will learn something from.

All that needs to happen now is for the kids to show up on Monday at 9am.

It's been a stressful week - but this is the kind of stress I thrive on, because at the end I'll know I have something to show for it. This camp is sort of like my baby...if it goes off well...well, I'll be one happy camper.

I'm coming to terms with not acting all the time, and I know that somewhere in my future I will again - on some little community stage somewhere. And that's ok with me. But there are a few roles, that I swear, if given the chance, I'd drop anything to play.

9 - Louise from Stage Door by Edna Ferber

I had the chance to play this in high school, but didn't because I was auditioning for college programs and, like any high school senior, doing way more than I should have. Louise is a budding actress in the 1930s, relocated from a small town to a boarding house in NYC with a million other girls, trying to find her big break. I love Louise's courage, and her dedication to the stage. The way she's willing to step down, and let the play go on without her.

Best Quote: "I suppose that's the kind of girl I am - you know - rather live in a garret with her true love than dwell in a palace with old moneybags."

8 - Isabella from Measure for Measure

I think she's the only ingenue in Shakespeare that doesn't get tripped up by a man. She's a nun, and comes into play when her brother is sentenced to death for sleeping with his fiancee before they are engaged (the duke "left" only to go undercover and spy on the people, leaving a fanatic in charge - a fanatic who tries to get Isabella to sleep with him to pardon her brother). She sticks to her guns, and sticks to God, which makes this part really difficult to play now.

7 - Lola from Damn Yankees

I did get to play this part in high school, and it is probably the most fun I have ever had working on a production. Joe Hardy sells his soul to the devil in order to get his team to win the World Series, and Lola is the devil's temptress brought in to distract Joe when he begins to miss his wife. Lola's got some fierce dance numbers (which maybe once in my life I could've pulled off), and a really complicated character. Eventually, she falls for Joe, and helps him get out of his deal with the devil. When we played it, my Joe was Mormon, and our stage kiss was his first kiss ever. My second...so I guess we're almost even!

6 - Ophelia from Hamlet

Hamlet is pretty much my favorite play ever, and every time I read it I find something new. I played Ophelia in college, and had a blast, but I know there were many things I wasn't able to achieve in the rehearsal process and in production. I think it's easy to play Ophelia as passive and meek, but I think if she were just that, she never would have gone mad. She would've just been depressed. Her madness (I believe) comes from some force of will that is smothered by her environment. And no, I won't tell you whether or not I think she kills herself.

5 - Millie from Thoroughly Modern Millie

Small town girl, rolls up in NYC, looking not for love or fame, but money. Her goal is to get a job as a secretary and marry her boss, marry up, and live every day the high and fancy life. This was the first modern musical I fell in love with, and I remember when I went to see it in 2002, I started to tear up at the Overture (curtain hadn't even opened yet.) It's campy, it's silly, but it still resonates somehow.

Favorite Quotes: "Burn the bridge, bet the store, baby's comin' home, no more...not for the life of me!" and "Pin my future on a green glass love..."

4 - Lady Macbeth from Macbeth

Power. Madness. War. Passion. Need I say more? It's every actress' dream (I'm convinced), and hey, I haven't passed the age to play this one yet!

3 - Catherine from Proof by David Auburn

As the play opens, we see Catherine talking to her father. As the scene goes on, we realize her father has passed away a few days before. In her father's last years, his mathematical genius deteriorated into madness, and with Catherine's intellectual gift may come the same curse. The play is her struggling against visions of her father, and her own fears about her future, as well as solving a mathematical proof that many years of mathematicians could not solve. I love this play and I love this role. I get her connection to her father, and her feelings of isolation.

2 - Eurydice in Eurydice by Sarah Ruhl

Every time I read this play I cry. When I saw this play, I cried. It's beautiful. I played Eurydice in a play about various myths in college, and in my research came across this piece by Sarah Ruhl. It's a re-invention of the story. We see Eurydice in the Underworld, where she struggles to regain her memories of her life before, with her relationship with Orpheus (her true love and a renowned musician) and with her father (a man who cares very deeply for her). We see the two men send letters to her in the Underworld, and Eurydice try and deal with being where she is - and whether or not she chooses to keep these memories and long for them, or forget them and be happy. The prose is elegant (and terribly difficult to act).

1 - Kate Monster/Lucy the Slut from Avenue Q

Still such a good show, and I think it would be amazing to be in. Kate is a kindergarden teacher living on Avenue Q when Princeton shows up and steals her heart. The actress who plays Kate also plays Lucy, the stripper at the local bar who seduces Princeton. Not only would it be killer to alternate between these two opposing characters, but you get to manipulate puppets onstage, and sing some pretty bomb songs.

Favorite Quotes: "Yeah, they're real." - Lucy and "You never know til you've reached the top if it was worth the uphill climb. There's a fine fine line between love, and a waste of your time." - Kate

Don't get me wrong, there are a MILLION other roles I'd love to play, but these are the ones that really get to me, and really have a hook.

Time flies like an arrow. Fruit flies like a banana.

Dumb. But I love it.

I just got home from our trip, home to find the house just as messy as I'd left it, and feeling like I'd hardly left it at all. The vacation-bubble burst the second I hit my gate to find two bills tucked in the door. Time to dive into the icy cold pool of reality...

We started in Tbilisi, from there we headed to Batumi, then we crossed into Turkey through Trabzon, and hopped a flight to Istanbul. I arrived in Tbilisi at 3am this morning, slept - wait - tried to sleep in the airport, and ended up lying there for four hours til the train started running and we could get into the city.

Just finished my take away xacapuri in a futile attempt to hang on. Laundry's on the line, and paperwork to be done. I'm exhausted, which never helps the emotional side of coming back to life here. It's strange, if it is so hard to come back, why do you? If it is so hard to come back, why do you want to stay longer?

Maybe I'm sadistic? No...definitely not that. It's because I do love it here, but going to the outside world makes me realize how much I'm giving up to be here. A lot of freedoms, a lot of luxuries, a lot of comforts...you realize again that the life you are leading really is a lot harder than most of your friends have it.

Normalcy is not something I ever thought I would crave.

But on a happier note, it was a wonderful trip. I'm typically a planner, but Matt insisted that we just go and see what happens. We did, and as predicted, it all worked out perfectly. Highlights include: Tbilisi - xacapuri at a table under an umbrella in a thunderstorm, the weird amusement park on top of the hill where old mascots go to die (honestly, so creepy...), a music festival in the lawn, great food and staying up way too late. Batumi - getting off the marshrutka and immediately (I mean no hesitation) jumping into the black sea, dinner by the water where Matt "accidentally" ate my meal when it came out first (hehe), lots of wine and a walk home through a deserted bazar, a rainy/drizzly beach day where we still went swimming and were almost crushed by the waves. Trabzon - getting ditched by a couchsurfer, only to end up staying at a place run by a cute little Turkish family in what may have also been a brothel (at least once upon a time it was), happening upon a great seafood restaurant where we and some old guy were the only patrons, a hike to a monastery in the clouds, the best fish sandwich of my life. Istanbul - Catching a lunar eclipse after a late-night arrival, sharing a girly tiny umbrella in a crazy downpour, watching the sunset from our penthouse 10-bed dormitory room at the hostel, late night talks, hookah and drinks to a 2-man jazz band, beers with a South African who we kept running into and a Turkish girl who gave me her bracelet, breakfast at the Anthony Bourdain place, getting dead skin scrubbed off my body by an overweight Turkish woman, and a beautiful final dinner on a rooftop restaurant complete with fireworks.

You can see why it was so hard to leave...but all good things must come to an end (who ever said that was right, but still should be punched), and at least I have a full load of work to throw myself into. Normal day of clubs tomorrow, camp starts next week (why I planned a trip right before camp still boggles my mind...idiot...), and there is plenty to do. It's 9:30, I'm running on about 3 hours of sleep (generous estimate) and I think it is time for bed.

I feel like whenever I sit down to write, I want to start every post with, "Things have been crazy since I last wrote." Or "I've been so busy, I can't believe it's already MonthX" or whatever.

But generally, every time I sit down to write it's true.

And the storms have been epic. Pretty much every night, just as the sun sets, the clouds roll in, and in it comes the rain and the thunder and the lightning...it's always a great show.

I can't believe it's June, and another year of school is behind me. At this point, it is interesting to see how my priorities have changed since last year, and how my outlook is just, well, different.

The past few weeks have been emotionally torrential, both up and down, for all sorts of reasons, but suffice it to say it's been exciting and I think we're in the clear.

Work wise, my life has been beautiful. We finished school, we took our softball team on a field trip to Danaci to play another team (the team never showed up - our kids just said, "They were afraid of us!" so we went to the park and ate ice cream and rode old carnival rides), we went to the Internat school (a school for underpriveleged kids, including orphans and refugees) to donate clothing we had spent weeks collecting (I even got an invitation to go back and teach there next year!), we received our SPA grant for the Arts Camp, and clubs have just been booming.

Personally, things have been odd...I spend a lot more of my time now with my male sitemates, and so gender restrictions that I never noticed before are much more glaring. Also, they're 8s, so they are thinking about completely different things, while I'm spending my time trying to think about what to do Post-PC, where I'll go, when I'll go, etc etc. And I don't HAVE to know, but I have to know if I want to go to grad school, because if I want to do that I have to take the GMAT, and if I have to take the GMAT I have to start studying NOW...yeah, that's my mind set. I don't really want to deal with any of it. But it doesn't help when you are surrounded by some people who keep asking what you want to do and where you want to go, and then others ask when you are leaving and the look in their eyes just begs you to stay. I've realized what I want, really, is to go back to America, and just take everybody with me. Or bring my life and my luxuries and my comforts from America to my place in Balaken, and keep working here. But you can't always get what you want...

I swear, I don't. I really do like kids, but sometimes, you gotta be mean.

It's the last week of school, my counterpart is worried about making the gradebook look perfect, my kids don't want to learn, and they all come up to me, shouting, 'a game! a game!'

So, I try to make it educational.

One 6th former: "Your heart is like ice. It is the last days of school. We want another game!"

Punk.

So, I forced him to suffer through the educational bit.

The kids have stopped coming, and it really is pointless for me to go. I go anyway, to see the few who have come run through the halls and pick flowers in the courtyard. I'll go tomorrow to collect the posters I've hung in my room...I can't believe the year's already over. You'd think it would slow down for me, but I see no sign of it letting up in the near future.

Softball is in full swing, and though we're still at a loss for money, we've arranged a trip on Monday to go to a village in Zaqatala to play a game. The kids are really excited, and so am I. They're getting better...today, in an hour, we played a full four innings (and could have probably played another). As opposed to an hour, with barely two innings, each inning getting at least 6 runs, and hardly any outs. There is improvement, it's amazing to see.

On top of that, we're prepping for our First Ever Balaken Arts Camp, which is hugely stressful and exciting all at the same time. I feel like it's kind of my baby...I'm way invested, and I hope it goes well. Unfortunately, we only have 30 slots for kids...which means when at least 30 are coming to softball each week, and upwards of 40 are coming to clubs...we have to draw the line. Too many times this week I've had to single kids out, and pull them off to the side. Of course when that happens their three friends follow them, and I have to say, "Is your name Sevinj? No. Then go away." And I don't enjoy that.

But, so far, I think we're putting together a group of our 30 best kids, and it's going to be awesome. We've got about 12 other PCVs from other regions committed, and I'm keeping my fingers crossed that the grant we wrote will come through. If it doesn't, camp will still happen thanks to the AMAZING donations from my friends and family back home.

And of course, personally, I'm trying to get ready for a trip to Georgia and Turkey - 2 weeks before camp. (Yeah, I'm a REAL good planner). I really need a vacation. For some reason, I've been feeling like I've been under a lot of pressure lately - pressure to perform, to be a certain way, to deliver certain things...and I'm just tired. I think a change of scenery is just what I need right now.

When my parents came, they brought me Tina Fey's new book, Bossypants.

Now, I think anyone who knows me knows that Tina Fey is kinda my idol. And the book, though interesting, isn't anything amazing, but she does go into her time at Second City, an Improv Group in Chicago.

Her stories remind me of my own improv classes at the local community theater, and at NYU. I remember the first Improv class I ever took, learning the Rules of Improv, and dilligently writing them down in my little notebook.

What I didn't realize at the time, is not only are they great rules for Improv, but they're great rules for life.

The Rules of Improv

Rule #1: Agree and say YES. Always say YES. The scene will fall dead if you walk in and say, "What a lovely Cruise Ship we're on" and I say, "No, we're on the moon." That'd be stupid.

Rule #2: Don't only say YES, say YES, AND. Add something. "What a lovely cruise ship." "I know, did you see the pool of jell-o on the starboard side?" Your contributions are always worthwhile, no matter how silly they might sound in your own head.

Rule #3: Make Statements, Don't Ask Questions. If I keep asking, "Where are we?" "Who am I?" I'm putting all the pressure on you to make up the scene. Maybe You say, "What a lovely cruise ship" and I say "Especially for two convicted jewel thieves." Boom. Scene.

Rule #4: There are no mistakes, only opportunities. (That one was quoted from Tina). Fine, I say something really, really, REALLY dumb. Let's go with it, see just how dumb we can get, and that's gonna be really, really, REALLY funny.

I was always terrible at improv, probably because I was spending so much time writing in my little notebook...now I'm just trying not to be terrible at life...;-)

Georgian Pilgrimage.

I remember the first year Lori took us to this, she sort of invited us along the lines of, “there's this Georgian holiday thing, I guess we hike to a church and have a picnic, I don't know, should be fun...” So we went and fell in love. Ive been to every one since, and I hope to continue the tradition.

This year we were actually up and out ON TIME (shocking!), with bags packed of dishes, silverware, potato salad, pasta salad, tons of bread, wine, and pork for kebabs. (The veggie kebab stuff didn't make it...oh well...). Four taxis got all the Americans to Kurmuk Kilse (Kurmuk Church) in Qax, a contested Georgian Church/Albanian Temple. (We're talking old stuff here in the mountains of the Caucasus, everyone has a slightly different idea of who all of it belonged to...). Either way, it's now a little church situated on the hillside. You hike up to the church, and this time I went barefoot. If you have an intention, an illness, or something to pray for, you hike barefoot and it will be granted. Mine has yet to be granted, but I'm being patient...

You hike up, circle the church three times, and then go in and light candles. Off to the side there is a big rock, which also has special significance, and you can get even to the top of that for the most beautiful view of the valley below. You see all sorts at this pilgrimage, Georgians from Qax, Georgians from Tbilisi, Azerbaijanis, Norwegians (there's a contingent in Sheki), and of course now, Americans!

After we hiked, we came back down and I made Dad go all boyscout and help set up the fire for the Kebabs. Him, Jake, Trey, and James were more than content to do the bro thing and stand around and watch it burn. I don't get that...Mom and I laid out the picnic stuff, and just people watched for a bit. Then we ate, and I turned my back for just one second, and my parents were guestnapped by a neighboring Georgian family.

Thankfully, Dad was in a bright red shirt, so I found him and Mom easily, now with wine in their hands, toasting with this family. Apparently, one of the kids was a student of Lori's, and they had called them all over and insisted they share some food and drink together. We hopped from family to family for about 15 minutes, and finally I introduced Mom and Dad to Nona and her parents, Julieta and Mische. They're a family that Lori is very close with, and when I go down they take me in, too.

Before I knew it, it was almost 2:30, and that meant it was time to go back to town to catch the taxi Ilias had arranged for us the day before. (When I told him I had arranged to go for 100 manat, he laughed at me and said, “for that much I'll drive down and take you to Baku.” So he called a few friends, and got us a taxi for 60!)

We went to Lori's house, gathered our things, and hopped in the cab for a drive to Baku. The weather was perfect, and we took the road through Sheki, Qebele, Ismayilli, Agsu, and Qebele. It's a lovely drive through green trees and mountains, and my Dad was so excited. Much better than the train. A quick coffee stop in Ismayilli (I, the youngest female in the group, paid the bill, much to the surprise of our young waiter), and we got into town in about 5.5 hours. Much better than a 9 hour bus ride.

The hotel we stayed at was right downtown, in Old City, the historic part of Baku. No problems checking in, even though I had called just days before to get a reservation (and an extra night because our plans for the train fell through). The concierge was cute, he said they screwed my name up on check-in, and said if they know an American is coming usually they just write the reservation in the name of “George.” Hehe. The room was modest, though cheap, and the accomodations were just enough. The staff welcomed us warmly, and so we took a little time to go and walk around before I bought my parents ice cream and sent them to bed, while I met up with a few volunteers for their last night in town for a quick drink.

It was a great trip, and though expected, went way too fast.

I got back to town at about 6 on Tuesday, and it was so sad to come home to an empty house. It was so nice having my parents stay with me for the week, and showing them the life that I've built in town. They met everyone that was important to me, Azerbaijanis, Georgians, and Americans, and I think they have a better understanding of why I'm here, and of some of the reasons I'd like to extend my service just a little longer. It was good for me too, it seemed to give the people I interact with so regularly the chance to express how they feel about knowing me, and having me around. We don't get much positive reinforcement, and I don't really need it, but it is nice to hear every once and a while.

Of course, having them around also made me realize how much I miss them, and how much I miss having a normal life style, with water that comes all the time, being healthy more days than not (whereas lately I feel like I've been unhealthy more days than I've been healthy), and being able to see all the people you love whenever you want to see them. It doesn't help either that my Mom has always done this thing, where she leaves little notes for me. She's done it as long as I can remember – when I'd go to camp I'd find a weeks worth of notes stuffed in my suitcase (one for each day of the week) – and this time, I got back home to find little notes tucked in my wardrobe, next to my pillow, and under the teddy bear she brought for me from home.

But, it's part of growing up, and it's part of the choice that I made to be here. And these feelings will pass, things will get busy again (two weeks of school, trip to Turkey, Arts Camp, home to America, COS conference...then school starts up all over again!) and I'll remember what I'm doing here in the first place. It's just hard sometimes. But it reminds me of how lucky I am, to have such wonderful support in America, and such a wonderful life here...I'm lucky to not know which place I'd rather be because they are both so important to me.

It was a great trip, and though expected, went way too fast.

I got back to town at about 6 on Tuesday, and it was so sad to come home to an empty house. It was so nice having my parents stay with me for the week, and showing them the life that I've built in town. They met everyone that was important to me, Azerbaijanis, Georgians, and Americans, and I think they have a better understanding of why I'm here, and of some of the reasons I'd like to extend my service just a little longer. It was good for me too, it seemed to give the people I interact with so regularly the chance to express how they feel about knowing me, and having me around. We don't get much positive reinforcement, and I don't really need it, but it is nice to hear every once and a while.

Of course, having them around also made me realize how much I miss them, and how much I miss having a normal life style, with water that comes all the time, being healthy more days than not (whereas lately I feel like I've been unhealthy more days than I've been healthy), and being able to see all the people you love whenever you want to see them. It doesn't help either that my Mom has always done this thing, where she leaves little notes for me. She's done it as long as I can remember – when I'd go to camp I'd find a weeks worth of notes stuffed in my suitcase (one for each day of the week) – and this time, I got back home to find little notes tucked in my wardrobe, next to my pillow, and under the teddy bear she brought for me from home.

But, it's part of growing up, and it's part of the choice that I made to be here. And these feelings will pass, things will get busy again (two weeks of school, trip to Turkey, Arts Camp, home to America, COS conference...then school starts up all over again!) and I'll remember what I'm doing here in the first place. It's just hard sometimes. But it reminds me of how lucky I am, to have such wonderful support in America, and such a wonderful life here...I'm lucky to not know which place I'd rather be because they are both so important to me.

I may never eat a mussel again.

Ok, rewind.

Up at 9:30 to have a nice cup of coffee (well, a nice cup of instant) before starting the day.

Then, we go, and walk to Chinar, a trendy restaurant in Baku that is sure to make you forget you are in Azerbaijan. The have a Sunday brunch, and I thought for Mother's Day, it would be an appropriate place to celebrate.

The bruch was lavish. Sushi, salads, curries, duck, mussels, soups, anything you could imagine was there, and we ate like it. They have a great little drink menu too, so I got my Bellini and I was happy. We were there for a few hours, enjoying the food and the company.

When we were finally finished (we had to try the desert...they make AMAZING macaroons...), we went out walking again. Back to Old city, my mom wanted to bargain for a table cloth (although the boys thought that I didn't bargain well enough – to that I say, why didnt you say anything?!!! Though I think it was still an ok price.), and then into another little shop to get a quick lesson on carpets. There's a shop in Old City where the owner sells to the generations of PCVs, and he was very happy to have us. In fact, we got scolded for not announcing our PCV status upon arrival. He was nice though, and I think if I end up buying a carpet before I leave, I'll definitely go there.

Unfortunately, as I was sitting there, the room began to get warm, and I started to get a little dizzy. “Hm, maybe it's just the room.” Nope. About an hour later I was at the hotel room re-visiting my Chinar brunch. Not so good the second time. I felt awful, not just physically, but also because the weather was beautiful, it was Mother's Day, and the last day with my parents, and all I wanted to do was lie in bed and not move. Womp Womp. Fortunately, it didn't stop them from going out and exploring, and while I was napping, Matt scored some major points by going out and finding the soccer ball for my cousin my Mom had been spending all weekend looking for. He came back with it and she was thrilled, my guess is she'll have a hard time sharing it with my cousin.

A few hours later, I was feeling at least good enough to walk around, so we went and showed my Dad The Brewery, one of a few places in Baku where they brew their own beer. We only stayed for a quick drink, and then headed to Adam's for dinner. (A cruel fate, to be at Adams and not be able to eat the deliciousness. I did ok with a few tastes though.) We stayed there for a while and chatted, my parents being kind and not telling Matt too many embarassing stories about me as a child. (I guess I was just too damn cute to be embarassed by anything!) When it was late, we headed back, and set up the taxi for 3:30 am the next morning to take my parents back to the airport, and then to America.

The alarm was cruel, but we walked out to see them off. Turns out it wasn't a taxi so much as the owner of the hotel driving my parents to the airport! We went back to bed, and when I woke up the next day I was not quite well enough to sit on a bus for 9 hours back to site. I knew I had to get moving in that direction though, so I slept a little longer, and went back to Goychay with Matt for the night. (Thankfully, Goychay is about halfway between Baku and Balaken, so it breaks up the trip pretty well).

I may never eat a mussel again.

Ok, rewind.

Up at 9:30 to have a nice cup of coffee (well, a nice cup of instant) before starting the day.

Then, we go, and walk to Chinar, a trendy restaurant in Baku that is sure to make you forget you are in Azerbaijan. The have a Sunday brunch, and I thought for Mother's Day, it would be an appropriate place to celebrate.

The bruch was lavish. Sushi, salads, curries, duck, mussels, soups, anything you could imagine was there, and we ate like it. They have a great little drink menu too, so I got my Bellini and I was happy. We were there for a few hours, enjoying the food and the company.

When we were finally finished (we had to try the desert...they make AMAZING macaroons...), we went out walking again. Back to Old city, my mom wanted to bargain for a table cloth (although the boys thought that I didn't bargain well enough – to that I say, why didnt you say anything?!!! Though I think it was still an ok price.), and then into another little shop to get a quick lesson on carpets. There's a shop in Old City where the owner sells to the generations of PCVs, and he was very happy to have us. In fact, we got scolded for not announcing our PCV status upon arrival. He was nice though, and I think if I end up buying a carpet before I leave, I'll definitely go there.

Unfortunately, as I was sitting there, the room began to get warm, and I started to get a little dizzy. “Hm, maybe it's just the room.” Nope. About an hour later I was at the hotel room re-visiting my Chinar brunch. Not so good the second time. I felt awful, not just physically, but also because the weather was beautiful, it was Mother's Day, and the last day with my parents, and all I wanted to do was lie in bed and not move. Womp Womp. Fortunately, it didn't stop them from going out and exploring, and while I was napping, Matt scored some major points by going out and finding the soccer ball for my cousin my Mom had been spending all weekend looking for. He came back with it and she was thrilled, my guess is she'll have a hard time sharing it with my cousin.

A few hours later, I was feeling at least good enough to walk around, so we went and showed my Dad The Brewery, one of a few places in Baku where they brew their own beer. We only stayed for a quick drink, and then headed to Adam's for dinner. (A cruel fate, to be at Adams and not be able to eat the deliciousness. I did ok with a few tastes though.) We stayed there for a while and chatted, my parents being kind and not telling Matt too many embarassing stories about me as a child. (I guess I was just too damn cute to be embarassed by anything!) When it was late, we headed back, and set up the taxi for 3:30 am the next morning to take my parents back to the airport, and then to America.

The alarm was cruel, but we walked out to see them off. Turns out it wasn't a taxi so much as the owner of the hotel driving my parents to the airport! We went back to bed, and when I woke up the next day I was not quite well enough to sit on a bus for 9 hours back to site. I knew I had to get moving in that direction though, so I slept a little longer, and went back to Goychay with Matt for the night. (Thankfully, Goychay is about halfway between Baku and Balaken, so it breaks up the trip pretty well).

Up on Saturday, the weather was a little drizzly, though not awful. We had breakfast at the hotel, and when the staff found out I could speak Azerbaijani, they were thrilled. They loved asking me about the regions, and seemed very familiar with Peace Corps. We went out to walk around Old City, and I forget that now that I'm with two other Americans, I have become a tourist. We got lots of attention from shopkeepers, and one sort of crazy taxi driver slash tour guide who told us all about how he owed his life to America because the KGB had him and broke his arm several times and now he can't play the piano. I don't know if any of that was true, but my parents, God love them, can't ignore a soul, and so let him chat, as I just started walking away...I guess living in NYC taught me a few things, for better and for worse.

But we had somewhere to go, and that was to my landlady's house. The woman who owns the house in which I live in Balaken, lives in Baku now with her family. I go there from time to time to hang out, and when she found out my parents were coming, she wouldn't let me not bring them to her. We went and had a lovely time, my mom had her first taste of pomegranate (fresh, and sliced like a true Azerbaijani), and learned how to make pumpkin qutab (one of my favorite dishes, it's basically a quesedilla stuffed with pumpkin instead of cheese or anything else...so good! My mom insists she knows how to make it now, so hold her to it back in America and ask for it!).

My landlady invited over her relatives who speak some English, and so I think it was nice for my Dad to meet a male Azeri (and a Bakuvian at that), who he could communicate with. His sister was adorable too, and she helped translate for my mom when I got overwhelmed!).

Around 3 we left (3 hours is a pretty good guesting time I think), and went to the Turkish Airlines office so my Dad could fix the reservation that the airline had inadvertantly cancelled on their travels here. We met up with Matt, and went for coffee at one of my favorite little places, Ali and Nino Cafe in Targova. We walked Targova, my mom was in search of a soccer ball for my cousin, but unfortunately, we couldn't find it! We walked the Boulevard down by the Caspian Sea, took some pictures, and just enjoyed the weather. It's spring, and it's fresh, and you can feel it because everyone is out and about and in good spirits. Everyone is still wearing black, though not quite as much as they usually do...

Mom bought a few souvenirs, and then we all met up with Martin and Tama at Cafe Beirut for a lovely Lebanese feast. Several courses of food, two bottles of wine, and a couple hours later, we were full and happy, and walked to ISR plaza to go to the rooftop lounge for a nightcap. I love it up there, a great view of the city, and on such a clear night, it really was a lovely day.

I remember the first time Lori took us to the Georgian Pilgrimage in Qax, she sort of invited us along the lines of, “there's this Georgian holiday thing, I guess we hike to a church and have a picnic, I don't know, should be fun...” So we went and fell in love. Ive been to every one since, and I hope to continue the tradition.

This year we were actually up and out ON TIME (shocking!), with bags packed of dishes, silverware, potato salad, pasta salad, tons of bread, wine, and pork for kebabs. (The veggie kebab stuff didn't make it...oh well...). Four taxis got all the Americans to Kurmuk Kilse (Kurmuk Church) in Qax, a contested Georgian Church/Albanian Temple. (We're talking old stuff here in the mountains of the Caucasus, everyone has a slightly different idea of who all of it belonged to...). Either way, it's now a little church situated on the hillside. You hike up to the church, and this time I went barefoot. If you have an intention, an illness, or something to pray for, you hike barefoot and it will be granted. Mine has yet to be granted, but I'm being patient...

You hike up, circle the church three times, and then go in and light candles. Off to the side there is a big rock, which also has special significance, and you can get even to the top of that for the most beautiful view of the valley below. You see all sorts at this pilgrimage, Georgians from Qax, Georgians from Tbilisi, Azerbaijanis, Norwegians (there's a contingent in Sheki), and of course now, Americans!

After we hiked, we came back down and I made Dad go all boyscout and help set up the fire for the Kebabs. Him, Jake, Trey, and James were more than content to do the bro thing and stand around and watch it burn. I don't get that...Mom and I laid out the picnic stuff, and just people watched for a bit. Then we ate, and I turned my back for just one second, and my parents were guestnapped by a neighboring Georgian family.

Thankfully, Dad was in a bright red shirt, so I found him and Mom easily, now with wine in their hands, toasting with this family. Apparently, one of the kids was a student of Lori's, and they had called them all over and insisted they share some food and drink together. We hopped from family to family for about 15 minutes, and finally I introduced Mom and Dad to Nona and her parents, Julieta and Mische. They're a family that Lori is very close with, and when I go down they take me in, too.

Before I knew it, it was almost 2:30, and that meant it was time to go back to town to catch the taxi Ilias had arranged for us the day before. (When I told him I had arranged to go for 100 manat, he laughed at me and said, “for that much I'll drive down and take you to Baku.” So he called a few friends, and got us a taxi for 60!)

We went to Lori's house, gathered our things, and hopped in the cab for a drive to Baku. The weather was perfect, and we took the road through Sheki, Qebele, Ismayilli, Agsu, and Qebele. It's a lovely drive through green trees and mountains, and my Dad was so excited. Much better than the train. A quick coffee stop in Ismayilli (I, the youngest female in the group, paid the bill, much to the surprise of our young waiter), and we got into town in about 5.5 hours. Much better than a 9 hour bus ride.

The hotel we stayed at was right downtown, in Old City, the historic part of Baku. No problems checking in, even though I had called just days before to get a reservation (and an extra night because our plans for the train fell through). The concierge was cute, he said they screwed my name up on check-in, and said if they know an American is coming usually they just write the reservation in the name of “George.” Hehe. The room was modest, though cheap, and the accomodations were just enough. The staff welcomed us warmly, and so we took a little time to go and walk around before I bought my parents ice cream and sent them to bed, while I met up with a few volunteers for their last night in town for a quick drink.

Somehow, the weather worked to our advantage (except for the whole shutting down the water thing...). Blue beautiful skies as we're watching parachuters, and grey drizzle and rain as we're headed to travel again.

Thursday morning we woke up leisurely, ate breakfast, cleaned up the house, and packed to get ready to go to Qax. Farid finally returned from Dubai (I owe him a punch for leaving the darn country the week my parents are in town), and so my parents got to meet with him for a quick 15 minutes before the taxi came. Farid is one of my besties in town, and even though we've both been busy lately and haven't gotten to hang out much, I've known him over a year now and feel like he's one of the more important people in my service. Fortunately, I have this funny feeling that he'll end up in America again, and my parents can meet him then!

At 12 on the dot my counterpart's husband shows up to take us to Qax. He was our private chauffer for the time we were in Balaken (him and Elvin), and he was more than happy to do it. He drove us down to Qax, and just as we arrived at Lori's house, the rain lightened up. We got out just as she and James were coming home from running a few errands. We got my parents stuff in the house, and then headed up the hill to see the only working Georgian Orthodox church in Azerbaijan, and then across the street for some fine Georgian cuisine at Migidana. I ate way too much khachapuri (cheesy bread)...but there was still plenty to take home.

After that, we went back to the house to meet up with all the other volunteers who were in town for the weekend, and there were a bunch. I was glad it worked out that way, because then my parents got to meet a lot of other volunteers, from a lot of other regions, and got to compare the experience we all have. Up in Balaken I lead a pretty nice life, and my sitemates do too. They got the chance to meet people who have had different challenges, and have a different routine than I do.

It happened to be Cinqo de Mayo, so Megan cooked us a fabulous Mexican fest. Unfortunately, after the khachapuri, I didn't have much room left for food, but I enjoyed it anyway. My parents and I headed out just as the boys were threatening to put their jorts on, and we walked to the hotel across the street where we were staying.

Let me just say this, for 5 manat a person, that's exactly what we got. Thankfully, Lori's was close, so we didn't have to spend much time at the hotel. We wanted to get our sleep, because the next day was the Pilgrimage!!

Woke up today to two options: school, or parachuting competition.

The weather was good, so they were flying, so school didn't really happen. (Though I didn't feel bad because once we got to the airport most of my kids were at the competition watching, so I pretty much could say I was on a 'field trip.')

We arrived at the airport as they were filling up the hot air balloon with a shiny picture of Heydar waving to the world on the side. We walked around, Mom, Dad, Me, Jake and Elvin, schmoozing, saying hey. We really were celebrities, more than once I saw a group of girls point and giggle in a, "oh my gosh it's THEM" sort of way. It was good that we went, there were a lot of important people there, and I got to say hey and show off my parents.

As we were walking, we saw a group of Azeri parachuters. As we got closer, we realized they were really young...and then we got even closer and saw that one jumper was one of our students! We walked over to say hello and take some pictures, and realized that another girl on the team was a 12-year old, and set the record for youngest jumper in Azerbaijan. Now, they were doing slack jumps, but who cares, they were going it alone and that was awesome!

They took the biplane up (the one we climbed in yesterday), and let out 7 Azeri jumpers, and right behind them four trick jumpers (the ones who can stack themselves on top of each other in the chutes). We watched them, and then they started the awards ceremony from the jumps the day before. Azerbaijan placed second in jumps, and third in the team jumps, though oddly, none of the team looked to be actually Azeri. Lots of blondes. Hm.

We headed out after soaking up some of the sun, went to try and get train tickets only to be denied for the third time. I throw in the towel, we're taking a taxi to Baku. I'd always prefer to take a cab, but it is more expensive. But I suppose when you've got Mom and Dad with real paychecks footing the bill...I'm not complaining.

After lunch (introducing Mom to Natakhtari Grape Soda...so good!) and a quick nap at home (I made Mom do the dishes because I cooked. We still had no water, so she did it bucket style with bottles of water I had stored up. They could make it as PCVs. Minus the violent aversion to squat toilets...), we headed to club. Today was Women's Club, and it gave my parents the chance to ask about gender differences in Azerbaijan, as well as get a greater insight to Azeris relationship to Russia and the Soviet Union. I think it was good for the women, and my parents.

At 4:45 kids started showing up to the office, asking about baseball practice. We walked over to my school's field around 5 o'clock, to about 25 kids just sitting on the field. We've NEVER had that many kids...I think every kid who has come to club came to play today. We organized an informal game, my Dad pitched, and my Mom helped me coach out in the field. We had a ball. (pun intended)

We got kicked off the field by some Azeri punks who wanted to play soccer, but we were pretty much done, because we had a guesting date that night. We headed to Bailey's old host family, who has since adopted me as their own too, and I have to say, I think my parents had the most wonderful time. The oldest daughter had called me earlier that day, to verify I was really coming, and to reassure me that they were waiting for me impatiently and just couldn't help themselves they were so excited. When we got there we found the kids sitting outside waiting for us, and they jumped up and ran in the house shouting, "They're here!!"

They laid out the SPREAD. We were escorted in for some basic discussion with the host Dad, me translating the whole time. Commiserating about how he has been working like crazy this week because there's no water, there's no mayor, the electricity keeps blowing out, and the like. But he was in good spirits, so we joked. Then, we were shuffled into the dining room for all the national meals (the host father had insisted we get a tasting of all the important things, dolma (quince leaf dolma, pepper dolma, and eggplant dolma), plov (with beans and meat, and apricots and raisins), dovga (which is a yogurt and greens soup), lots of salads, and mushrooms and potatoes for me! Host Dad started the toasting with my Dad, with two shots of black vodka (I was side-coaching my Dad as to when to drink, how much to drink, etc. Good thing Trey had given him the rundown the day before, just to be sure), and then Bailey and I were invited to join as we got deeper into translating.

Unfortunately, for most of the night the youngest brother was hiding in the back room. He's four, and apparently, was circumcised a few weeks ago in Zaqatala. (They wait a LONG time to get that taken care of here...poor little suckers). Anyway, he's terrified of doctors now (rightfully so). But, to mess with him, the hfam had told the kid that my parents were doctors. (They like to mess with him. It's easy, it's funny, it's harmless).

Hehehe. We had fun with that all night. Threatening that my Dad had a pair of scissors with him...so he kept his distance, but he was constantly on guard...

Eventually, the tea came out, and then we got to watch (of course) a Toy video from the most GESHENG toy ever in Baku...little girls dressed up as angels doing a choreographed dance during the couple's first dance, fireworks as they walked in and cut the cake, etc etc.

They were amazing to us, and my parents kept saying over and over again how wonderful it all was. That's the thing about it here, being hospitable is a thing for Azeris, but when you find a family who is genuinely hospitable...well they're a keeper. They were so cute, arguing over whether I looked like my Mom or my Dad (I look like Dad with my hair up, and Mom with my hair down), and how no matter what culture or language we have, we all have the same heart.

That was never more true than it was tonight. Sitting, laughing, two different languages, but somehow, we were all part of the same conversation.

Su yoxdur.

Woke up this morning, still no water. I was concerned that they had shut me down because no one had come to collect money. I was fully prepared to yell at the water guy and say, "My Mother and Father have come from America and you cut off my water, now what will they think??!!"

But the sun was shining, so it didn't seem to matter too much. We headed out, went to the mosque, and I finally got to climb to the top. It's the tallest mosque in the Caucasus, and the mortar is made of egg. Super cool. A great view and a good climb.

After that, we walked up to the park, only to be called by Elvin who told us that there was a parachuting competition at the Balaken Airport. So we hopped in his car and drove up. Unfortunately, by the time we got there, the parachuting had ended (although we got to see a few fly from the window of the car on the way there), but we got to talk to some Russian guy who worked on their space program, a few Azeri officials who were more than welcoming, and a pilot who let us climb into his Antonov Airplane...as my dad said, "leaking oil like it should, looking old like it should. This is great!" He was terribly excited to see it, and we got to climb around in it and take pictures. Most of the guys there invited us back tomorrow, when there will be a hot air balloon and they'll take us up. Inshallah, the weather will stay clear so we can actually go!!

After that, we had a quick lunch outside at the Turkish restaurant in town (doner, pide, lahmacun, salad, ayran), and then to club. The kids were pretty excited to meet my parents, asked questions, asked what kind of student I was when I was a kid, if I studied my lessons well. (My Mom's response, "Stephanie is very smart. But she is a lazy student. Is she lazy now?" To which one student sassed me and said, "mmmm, so-so." Love that girl. Then my mom went on to talk about my math competitions, and how when I was a kid and scored well on a gifted-and-talented test she thought I had cheated...thanks mom).

After that, went to the post office to get a three month old package from my grandma's church group (yay!) and then we walked back to the park for dinner. We bought some Natakhtari on the way (mmmm), and ate fried xengel (I had my first piece ever...I've never eaten them bc of the meat, but I figured what the heck I might as well...good...the meat tastes like taco meat...good but not enough to convert me), greens and shor qutab (like quesedillas), salads, and of course plenty of bread. Jake walked out to ask the waiter something, got dragged into chatting with some guys sitting around, and came back with an open and partially empty bottle of whiskey...only in Azerbaijan. We finished that and then headed back to the park.

Up the steps, and then we met our buddy at the cayxana Ibish, who served us tea at the top of the park, one of the best places to see all of Balaken, and the surrounding mountains. We hung out there for a bit, took some pictures (we decided that my relationship with my sitemates, Jake and Trey, is akin to Wendy and the Lost Boys from Peter Pan), and then walked home.

Still no water.

Thank God Jake has a water tank, so mom and I were able to go and rinse off, wash our hair, while dad bucket-bathed it in my shower.

I'm so proud of them. They're like real PCVs. Showering with little to no water, brushing their teeth out the window, using the squat toilet...just wait till we hit the night train Friday night.

As of Friday night, I wasn't really sure my parents were going to make it to this part of the world...but after their lucky travel through to Vienna, I had faith. Their original flight out of CLE was delayed 5 hours, and then ultimately cancelled. So they rerouted...rented a car to Detroit, from there it was three more planes and 38 hours later they hit Tbilisi.

I had spent the weekend in Qax, celebrating Lori and Turan's Birthday. A spring festival, softball game (Americans: 20+, Qaxians: 4...we didn't take it easy on them...), dinner at a restaurant, an adult easter egg hunt, a midnight hike to a deer statue, an 8km hike to an idyllic field in the mountains, then an evening in the village of too much dancing, too much homemade booze, and sleeping on a balcony with a cat on my stomach...it was everything it was supposed to be and more!

At exactly 3:00 Sunday, I get a call from my parents, "We're in the taxi, we're on our way!" I had sent my counterpart's husband to go find them at the Marriot in Tbilisi...and somehow, he got them right on time. They headed back in the pouring rain, and after a minor detour (meaning they got a little lost), and a few stops for my CP's hubby to buy groceries (they're a lot cheaper in Georgia), my parents officially arrived at my little cottage in the mountains of Balaken. In the deluge, my dad gave my CP's husband a hug to thank him, and from then on, they were bros.

I gave them a quick tour of my place, and at one point as my mom is standing at the shower, she said, "How many days are we staying here?"

She was joking - to a certain extent. The squat toilet, the shower that's out of a horror film, the only source of running water outside (and at that point in the pouring rain), I think was maybe a little much. But they're getting used to it.

I had dinner ready when they came in (baigan bhartha, tabbouleh, naan and yogurt), and then we just had an evening sitting around, chatting, and catching up. Jake came over and made us apple crisp (delightful, thanks Mama Winn for the recipe!!), and we just had a really nice time. The rain never stopped, so we never did the dishes. We passed out early because I hadnt slept a wink the night before, and then were up and out early for school. Unfortunately, we lost water, giving my parents an even better insight into what my life is really like. Shoulda done the dishes...

School. So, my parents were celebrities. Basically. Everyone was psyched, and had a ton of questions. We taught three classes, and basically all we did in each of them was have Q&A sessions with my parents. "What's your favorite car?" and "Do you like Football? Reynaldo! Messi!" dominated the 6th form, one of my 8th formers introduced himself as Al Pacino, another took a picture with my Dad because he thinks he (the kid, not my dad) looks like Obama, and then the 5th formers were jus the most adorable nuggets ever, and I think my mom wants to take a few of them home in her suitcase.

I took them around the school, introduced them to everyone, and a strange pattern emerged. Every Azeri we talked to thought that my parents had come to take me back to America. The secretaries, the other teachers, the deputy, the grounds manager, all asked, "Are you staying? Don't leave yet! Stay! Stay!" It was a riot. Now I know how they'll react when it really is time to go...

After that, we tried to get train tickets (a failed attempt, we might be taking a cab to Baku...sigh...), walked back through the Bazar, and then to my counterpart's house to guest.

Guesting Experience #1: I rate it an A

On the menu: Xenqel (which is basically awesome ravioli, stuffed with nettle, cheese, or meat), dolma (grape leave), penje (I have no clue what it is, that's the Azeri word, but it's some delicious green that looks like spinach but has more flavor to it), tomato and greens salad, homemade yogurt, homemade grape juice, and of course chai and bamyan (the churro looking thing they make a lot of and make perfectly up north). I ate too much. It's 9pm and I'm still not hungry.

No awkward toy screenings, lots of good food, they did NOT bring out ALL the family albums, (only one, which was appropriate), we played with her kids, read their english books, and just talked. Like normal people. She was able to speak with them about Azerbaijan, America, life, me (it's great to have your parents come, because then people say really awesome things about you to them...and you learn some things too, primarily about how you have affected their lives...it was really touching.) Then her husband came home from work, came bearing gifts from Georgia, including a beautiful bunch of lilacs which are spreading their fragrance through my house right now.

After that, we walked over to Jake's house, and hung out there for a bit just chatting. My parents were thrilled (and I think a little jealous) to see a western toilet, and by the time we left, the weather had opened up and blue skies were shining down on us. Fingers crossed that keeps up for tomorrow, so I can show them how pretty Balaken can be.

It's wonderful to have them here, to show them what my life is like and to introduce them to people here. I think it's really good for them too, makes them feel a little better about what's going on in my life, especially if I decide to extend. It's weird though too...suddenly these two very distant parts of my life are merging. Introducing them to the people here who are so important to me...it's weird, but satisfying. And I'm glad for it.

Things are great so far, and I'm thinking it's going to be a very good week!

It's April 27th. And I'm not exactly sure when or how that happened.

Things have been crazy (not to mention I've been ill off and on for probably the past 6 weeks - that's what it's like getting sick here. It lingers...And it isn't like I can just run to the nearest drug store and get my favorite remedies. Everything here is in Russian. Though apparently it is easy to just waltz into the pharmacy and order up a significant does of antibiotics. I did not do that. I did call my doctor. But now I know you can.), I wrote a grant for our Arts Camp (fingers crossed it'll get approved), we're also trying to secure funding for our softball tournament this spring (fingers crossed there will be enough money for us), not to mention teaching classes and clubs, organizing a softball team, and trying not to be a hermit.

I haven't been travelling much, with the expectation that these next few weekends are going to be insane. Though last weekend I headed down to Goycay, and then took a little day trip to Qebele. I'm sure Qebele is beautiful, had we been able to see any of it. But tucked up in the mountains, it was cloudy and raining, and somewhere around 3 o'clock on Friday a horror-movie-worthy fog rolled in. It became impossible to see more than 10 feet in front of us. Matt joked that we'd probably wake up in the middle of the night and have to run through the woods for our lives. Good thing I brought my sneakers. We walked around town a bit, saw the resort area with these GORGEOUS resorts (160AZN/night and upwards...we did not stay at those places. We found the something a little more reasonable, and a little more Azeri, down the road), and Qebeland - a little Azerbaijani amusement park. The fog, and rain, coupled with the fact that it was off-season and there was no one around, really made it a very surreal experience. Maybe Qebele doesn't even exist...maybe we stumbled into some 3rd dimension somewhere alone the road...who knows?! Either way, it was a much needed rest weekend before...

My parents arrive!!

It's going to be crazy.

Crazy awesome.

They get in Sunday, and my counterpart's husband, a kind taxi driver, has offered to pick them up from Tbilisi (capital of Georgia) for me. I've given him instructions, and I told them to hold a sign that says, "Ormston Family." My dad knows his license plate number, the words, "Salam" (hello) and "Sag ol" (Thank you/Goodbye). Otherwise, we're flying bline. I hope it works.

I have a lot of plans for them, and hopefully they'll be up to it. I'm really excited to introduce them to everyone here, everyone who has been such a huge part of my life in this last year and a half (or more...). I'm close with my parents, and they've always been a huge part of my life, so having things here that they haven't experienced/don't really understand is kind of odd. I'm happy we'll have the chance to change that.

Well, I do, usually.

As a TEFL PCV, I'm required to put in 15 hours at school. I teach 12 hours of the same classes each week, and then the extra three hours I kind of take at random, popping into other forms, and hanging out with different students and teachers. (Because of the way the schedule works - classes being split/held at the same time, there's really no good way to take on a whole other class, so I spread the love.)

When I go in early for those classes, I get up at 7 or 7:30.

When I don't, I get to go in at 9:30.

When I woke up this morning in the dark and the rain, I decided to sit with my coffee instead.

Yeah, it got cold again. With a wave of PCVs blogging about how it's finally spring, karma came back laughing hard.

Thanks guys. ;-)

But that's the weather, and no different from Cleveland where it always seemed to snow on Easter, we're back with the bipolar spring. (One girl wrote yesterday's date on the board "4th of February." When I asked her to correct it she said, "But the weather is February!" Poor thing.)

My students still know its April though, and they're getting antsy. All they want to do is play games, no work from the book or actual "learning" (even though I swear some of my games are more educational than what normally happens). So my CP has had to up the discipline.

Props to her, in a society where corporal punishment of children in the classroom is accepted, she has never laid a hand on a child.

She just makes them stand in the corner.

Or yesterday, she made one kid stand on one leg for a good 5 minutes.

I couldn't stop laughing, it was great.

Other things that happen in my class, I get weird questions about how to translate things. Some favorites...

What is the meaning of:

Call of Duty

Grand Theft Auto

Red Devil

Wash & Go

Are these names Mexican or American:

Diego, Luna, Dora, Lucas, Charlie

And from one of my girls, who doesn't give a crap about English, she asked me to translate and help her learn to sing "My Heart Will Go On."

That's why, for lessons, I end up teaching them pop culture (or at least, pop culture from the 90s, because that's about how long it takes to get here.) i teach it in English, hoping that some of it will stick.

You know, March wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be. I mean, it wasn't good - but it wasn't that bad. I stayed busy. Very busy.

Realizations: On top of my 15 hours of lessons a week, I teach 8 clubs. 8. More or less because I can't say no. Fortunately, a few of those clubs are co-taught with my sitemate(s), so it isn't AS bad.

Clubs:

Advanced English 1

Advanced English 2

Art Club

Games Club (5th and 6th formers)

Women's Conversation Club

Club with Doctors and Nurses at the Children's Hospital

Club with women at a Salon

Girls Sports Club

Unfortunately, some of the clubs for the older women have been sufferring because the kids take up so much of my time - but I'm trying to reconcile it all. Not like my schedule is getting any less busy, mind you...

So far, my most rewarding club is Girls sports. It's on Saturday mornings (thank's Jake! grrr), but no matter how much I hate getting up early on Saturday, I'm always glad I go. When I was younger, my theater classes or dance classes were always early Saturday mornings. Sometimes Dad bribed me with breakfast beforehand. I HATED getting out of bed, but once I was there - it made it all worth it.

This past Saturday - despite a week of gorgeous, sunny, warm weather - it rained, so we were stuck inside. We did a warm up, and then went into some kickboxing. (Think p90x style Kenpo). These girls are insane. The room we use is the judo room, so there are always pads and things lying about, and we get the girls to beat the crap out of these things. Tiny, skinny girls, using all the muscle they've got in them, punching, kicking. It's really fantastic. After that, I always lead a little bit of yoga (and despite the obvious language barriers, they are getting it!).

They don't have PhysEd like we do in the states, and so most of these girls really have no awareness of their own bodies. (Or any clue how the whole idea of a sports club works - they still wear jeans to class). So a lot of what I'm trying to do is just to get them to know themselves. "If I do this, my body does this." Or if "I reach over here, I feel my muscles here." That kind of thing. I take for granted how much of that I'm aware of, because of early gymnastics and dance classes, all the way through college level movement courses. They marvel at being flexible, and doing handstands and cartwheels - so we're teaching them those things too. It's so much fun, and usually we end up rolling on the floor in some manner laughing like crazy.

And also, I suppose in some way we're indirectly teaching them to take responsibility of, and control of, their own bodies, and in turn themselves. It's no secret that women in this society tend to be marginalized, and oppressed by their fathers and husbands. Letting them punch the crap out of a punching bag, and showing them how to feel at home in their own bodies, might give them a little bit of the confidence they need to stand up to the next irrational instruction they're given. (Though I will give credit, most of the girls we work with have incredibly supportive families. So I suppose we're just protecting them from stupid boys who want to marry them. And when I say stupid, that is by no means a cultural comment, I say that about boys in any country. :-) hehe)

We also just hosted the writing olympics. Which is a world-wide competition hosted by PCVs, for the students to write essays in English. They're given a prompt, and have one hour to write a composition. We had 12 people show up, and I couldn't have been more proud of what they wrote. We prepared them with a little club (yes, another club) ahead of time, and you could tell in the essays they had used what they learned. Rock stars.

Life on the homefront has otherwise been lovely. With the nice weather, I have flowers and trees blossoming in my yard, the start of some vegetables and spices in my house, and mysteriously, I have broccoli growing in the garden from seeds planted last year...I spend most of my lunch breaks sitting by my apple tree, reading. It makes planning for COS difficult, and I am planning, because if I want to go to grad school, I need to start thinking about WHERE to go, and what I need for my applications. Anyone want to take the GMAT for me?

One month of school. Then my parents come. (Yay!) Another month of school. Then vacation. Then Summer Camp. Then back to Amerikastan for a wedding. Then a month of summer. Then a Peace Corps Conference in Baku. Then two weeks and the school year will start again. Why is it going so fast?

When I was in college, one of my theater classes was a clowning class.

And no, this wasn't a paint your face silly and wear red noses kind of clown class (though we did eventually graduate to the noses - :) ), it was play. It was free play, and a chance to get in touch with that inner child kind of class.

We played playground games. We sang songs. We danced. We were children.

The point of the class was to open yourself up to anything and everything that life had to offer. The wonder, and the despair.

A lot of our exercises were solo work - a terrifying experience. You, up in front of 20 of your peers, at your absolute most vulnerable. This was when that teetering, tottering, little child came out. But this is also when all the joy, and all the fear came out too.

One of the last bits of our warm up exercise still sticks with me. We'd place our interlaced hands over our breastbone - over our heart...and slowly, slowly, open them up. Making creaking noises, and acting appropriately frightened, we'd open up that old, rusty, case around our heart. We'd open up to anything and everything life had to offer. For better, or for worse.

The thing about working at an acting school in Manhattan, is that studio was the safe space. That one room (5-1A) at 890 Broadway was the space where you could do that. Where you could open yourself up, and you knew that even if bad things happenned, it was never that bad. It was never the end. But you always had to be sure that when you crossed that threshold, out the door, down the human operated elevator, out onto busy Broadway, you had to close back up, or else you'd get eaten alive.

In Peace Corps, we're volunteers, sacrificing, yes, our time, but more importantly, we're sacrificing ourselves. We're sacrificing our talents, our energies, our skills, and our love for other people. We've opened our hearts - for better, and for worse.

One thing any PCV will tell you is that while in PC, the highs are higher, and the lows lower. I think it's because we go through this process so open to experience, so giving, and so completely exhausted of energy and emotion, that we can't help but be significantly affected by the events that happen to us. I think it is especially true for those of us who work with young people here. The lack of mentoring in Azerbaijan, of interest in child development, the fact that adults here don't really nurture youth, necessitates that when we are present with a group of kids, we are there 110%. We give and give and give, because they need it so much. This, at the end of the day, leaves you so tanked, honestly sometimes all you can do is cry.

I was doing yoga the other day, and came to this realization. I could go through my service closed off, and save myself the pain and the frustration. But then I wouldn't be giving. And what we receive isn't all bad - my 5th formers wrote on the blackboard behind my back "BEATIFUL STEPANIE [spelling errors preserved for effect]" - so I'd hate to shut myself off to that too. So I go through this world, open, giving, receiving, vulnerable. Because I have no other choice. And I'd have it no other way.

I think I'm solar powered.

And yes, Seasonal Affective Disorder is a real thing.

There are a lot of reasons why today was such a good day, and this weekend is shaping up to be such a fabulous weekend.

#1: The sun came out for the first time in three weeks.

I felt like James Franco in 127 Hours for a second there, I was DYING for some shred of sunshine. Then finally, it came. Of course it was interspersed with a snowfall that wasn't so much snowy as it was bubbly. Literally, the flakes were so light and puffy that they just hung in the air like bubbles.

#2: Good company, who came bearing lovely gifts. Whenever you go guesting you always bring some sort of present for the host. Our company brought good gifts.

#3: A hugely successful girls sports club. 14 girls and women came! We did some kenpo kickboxing, some yoga, a little dance, a little softball, and then we ended up watching some of the girls volleyball tournament in the gymnasium. And, three of the girls from one of my 6th form classes at school decided to come too, and are totally psyched to come back next week! They're our youngest attendees now, but they kept up!

#4: A trip to a restaurant (with delicious shor and grape soda!) followed by a day with Marie at the salon. Got our hair cut by a good Azerbaijani friend of mine. She studied at a Turkish Beauty Salon in Baku (fancy), and always likes to experiment with me. I got the 'teze stil' aka 'new style' and now I can't really see anything because my bangs are long and shaggy...but it's cute!

#5: The sprouts of daffodils can be seen in my yard. The first of the spring magic that is my garden!

If Winter months are December, January, and February, then that means that the beginning of March is the beginning of Spring. I really hope that things start to brighten up around here, and hopefully take my mood with it.

Ad gunu mubarek, Peace Corps!

Today is the 50th Anniversary of Peace Corps! Happy Birthday Peace Corps!

And, thanks for all my bomb birthday wishes and plans. I'm so lucky.

My birthday weekend started Thursday, when I headed down to a friend's village to meet his host family and take a little break. It was nice, I'd forgotten what it's like to be taken care of...wake up, pec is already lit and the room is warm, breakfast on the table, watching cartoons with the 5 year old host sister, tea is brought to me...oh the life. Again, grass is always greener - I like my house a lot - but it was nice to go back to that.

Spent a couple days there, hanging out with the family, exploring the city, and then woke up Saturday for a trip to Sheki. There are three of us PCVs with birthdays around this weekend, and we wanted to have a big party together. Unfortunately, Saturday also happenned to be the anniversary of Xocali, a major event in the NK war that ended with hundreds of Azerbaijanis killed. So having a big celebration somehow seemed culturally insensitive...only a few of us went. We talked, had some not-so-fast food for dinner, and then attempted a pudding competition (with not so clear winners and not so clear pudding either...). Nice, uneventful, laid back.

Sunday we woke up to a gorgeous snowfall, which delayed my return to Balaken, making it so that I had just enough time to run to my house, drop my backpack off, and run out again to go to Jake's counterpart's house for dinner. We've known this woman for a while, but it was the first time we had been to her home...she's fantastic. We can be honest, laid back, and talk about whatever. It was so relaxed.

After that, back to my house, and woke up the next morning at 5am to try to screen the Oscars. Though, thanks Azerbaijan, my internet wasn't working, so that didn't work out so well. We woke up anyway, made biscuits and gravy and bloody mary's, and watched a movie. I head to school, and am bombarded by shouts of "Happy Birthday Teacher!" The kids have presents. My counterpart gave me a present. So loved.

Came home after that to realize that, again, they have cut the gas, so I napped and froze a little. We had club at 3, so I woke up just in time to throw on a frumpy sweater and go. Jake had asked me earlier to come, because he said he needed help managing the students (typically 8-10th graders), but also he said not to rush because he knew the kids would be late.

So I rush to the office and at about 3:05, I walk in.

SURPRISE!!

To my complete surprise, everyone is sitting around wearing Target-dollar-bin Birthday hats, there's a cake, candy, balloons, and about 20 of our students sitting around smiling.

This was the first incidence where I almost started to cry.

We play pin the tail on the donkey, and about halfway through the door opens and I see two more of my close PCV friends walk in (friends I didn't think I was going to get to see on my bday).

This was the second incidence where I almost started to cry.

So we play, and we have an impromptu dance party, and then it's time for presents.

All of my girls made me cards, brought me gifts. One of the girls made a book, and inside wrote the lyrics to "Just the Way You Are" by Bruno Mars.

This was the third incidence where I almost started to cry.

*A note on the crying: It's been a rough winter. Rough. I get stuck inside, I'm really antsy, I mull things over in my head, and I make myself crazy. So I've been pretty crazy lately. Also, it's easy to get lonely at this time of year. Seeing my friends come out for me like this - especially when I sort of had this idea that my bday was going to go by rather uneventfully - was amazing.

After the party, we went to a restaurant with two of our Azerbaijani friends (one of them being a guy we hung out with on my birthday last year) and again, had a great time. Sitting in a big, cozy room, listening to a Turkish Music Video channel, making fun of Britney Spears and Justin Bieber. So great.

So it was a lovely birthday. Moral of the story: nothing goes as expected. But as long as you've got good company, it doesn't matter.

Also, a cultural note: This was a year of completely ridiculous birthday presents. Shopping in an Azerbaijani bazar is like going to a dollar store in some rural middle of nowhere town, located off the highway...and yes, some of the presents are from PCVs...highly integrated PCVs. ;-)

Some treasures: a toy car that says "Meat Wagon, New Edition," three picture frames that look like they could be a matching set from three completely different people, a perfume that "smells like middle school," a ceramic duck with kitchen utensils (ridiculous and practical), a ceramic plate that shouts, "BAKU AZERBAIJAN" in gold lettering, a pen that is also a lazer pointer, flashlight, and normal pointer (like a presenter), and a fabulous asymetrical shirt, that is tight and worn off the shoulder, and comes with a matching belt.

I'm so loved.

This is a story.

A story of five people who happen to spend a lot of time together.

These people came together, one cold morning in Azerbaijan, with a goal. A goal to reach the unreachable. Those seductively elusive hot springs, located in the region of Qax.

This is their story.

So, that was the idea, really. To go to the hot springs in February, because hey, what's cooler than jumping in the hot springs, then running outside and rolling around in the snow, and then jumping right back into the hot springs? Not a whole lot.

Woke up bright and early Saturday morning, and while sitting around a breakfast of french toast and eggs with spinach and mushrooms, watching the snowfall, we came to a realization.We could die on this hike.All of the host country nationals we met, that we told we were going to the hot springs, had something to say."You're going to die""You'll freeze to death.""There will be an avalanche.""There are wolves."We didn't heed the warnings, of course, but something seemed imminent that morning."Let's leave a note." Someone said, "and leave our last wishes.""Like how if we die, they should make a movie of our story. And not a straight to home video movie, a blockbuster, new release, never enough DVDs on the shelf kinda movie."So we left a note, that read, as follows (spelling errors preserved to protect integrity):"Dear, Whoever it My Concern.If you are Reading this we are probably Dead.Last will and testimate:Make a movie of our lives & finnal trek in the snow to our deaths.Cast!Jake Winn played by a Golden Retrevier (Air Bud)Stephany Ormston Tina FeyLori Dunn Queen LatifahTrey Wadewitz - Young Val KilmerMatt Thornton - Jack NicholsonYou will find our balls and vidio journal hopefully soon.Love, The Idiots"Written in blue crayon on a paged ripped from an Azeri defter.And then, we left. Hopped in a taxi (conveniently, a driver Lori knew (our driver is to be played by Schwarzenneger or Jean-Claude Van Dame [his casting])), Jack, Val, Tina and Airbud gettin cozy in the back. We drive towards Ilisu, which is up into the mountains from Qax city proper, and realize that we can't see the mountains we're driving into. And the snow, slush in the city, is sticking, and accumulating. We're driving slowly up the hill, sliding a bit on the turns, until we stop. Our driver, with a head shake goes, 'fisio.' Meaning: Done.We're still a kilometer from the town. Once we get through the town, only then does the 7 km hike begin. It's 11:00am. We're in trouble.So we walk. We walk up the hill, begin filming our movie and we keep walking. Warm enough to take off our jackets, but still the snow comes down. We get through the town, sneak past the guard station, and head to the river bed.Problem: there is no path. No one else is dumb enough to try this hike in this much snow, so we're going it alone. The snow is up to my shins. In the shallow places.We walk. We trudge. We fall. We roll around. We walk along the creek. We slip. We walk for about an hour, look back, and realize that we've covered basically no ground in the 60 minutes of previous struggling.Queen Latifah and Tina call for a come to Jesus moment with the boys, and spill the news that, at the pace we're going, we'll be lucky to even get to the springs by 7pm. So what happens instead?Dance party, snowball fight, face impressions in the snow, snow-fight, and real-snow snowcones.In all our jubilee, we neglected to notice that the ravine that was so clear and bordered by snowy mountains with icy trees, is now closing in on us. The mountains disappearing, the trees disappearing, and everything but the 20 feet around us is gone too.This is where it got scary.We trekked through this other-wordly snow wasteland, at this point exhausted and wet from our snowfight, and with the snow that has continued to fall all day, most of the hike is in snow past my knees.For a good 15 minutes of this hike - which seemed like an hour - I couldn't see a single soul around me. The boys had gone on ahead, and I was too cold to stay back with Latifah...so I was alone, and it was freaky. I definitely had to talk myself down from a panic attack.Fortunately, the boys had left a path for me, and they were dealing with their stress by filming Blair-Witch style videos saying good byes and sending love to family and friends.Finally, I made it back to the road, and in a wave of relief collapsed, and with numb frigid hands put on a dry pair of socks to try and regain the feeling in my toes, that, at this point, I had kind of forgotten about. I don't think I've ever felt a chill so deep, that has made me shiver and my teeth clatter that uncontrollably. It wouldn't have been so bad if I hadn't almost been buried in the snow by my cast mates...We tredged down the hill, and were welcomed into a home by two villagers who saw us idiots and decided to lend a hand. They served us tea, let us sit by the fire, and thaw out before we got into a cab.We may not have made it to the hot springs, but we made it back alive, and had an incredible time. It's weekends like these that always come at just the right time - when I'm getting kind of antsy, when I need to be out in the open, and I need to be with good people who I love who I know love me. A lot of PCV functions end up with all of us sitting in someone's house, bickering over who we're going to make put on real clothes and run to the store and buy bread, in front of computers hooked up to the internet. But stuff like this - this is why I'm in this country.We had a bit of a struggle to get back to Balaken - the weather is still a mess, so our typical buses weren't running and we had to take taxis. I got to my house, it was cold, it was quiet, it was empty. And I was sad. I like my independence, but I miss that contact and connection with people - especially after a weekend that was so good and so full of it. I'm envious of volunteers who get to go home to a loving Azerbaijani host family, tv on, kids playing around, a warm pec and hot tea.Sometimes, it would be nice to have someone to come home to.But the grass is always greener, eh? Nothin a skype call to Mom and Dad, a little bit of chai, and some good ol American TV shows can't fix.The only question that is left to be answered: who's gonna direct this movie?

Sevgili gunu mubarek!

Or something like that.

That's "Happy Valentine's Day" in Azeri...though they don't really celebrate it here. (Hallmark hasn't made it to this part of the world yet...kidding...) People have heard of it though, and when they translate it, really, it directly translates to "lovers day." My counterpart told me this today, when she was telling me about how she reminded her husband what day it was when she woke up this morning.

Their conversation as recounted to me:

Counterpart: Do you know what day it is today?

Husband: No, I have forgotten.

Counterpart: It is lover's day!

Husband: So? We are not lovers. We are husband and wife.

Womp womp. Though she did say, "he used to buy me things often" and with a little twinkle in her eye, she continued and said, "I think he will buy." They really are very truly in love and good for each other...I think that comment was more a product of marriage than of culture.

I wanted to teach today to my classes, so with my 5th and 6th forms each student made a mailbox (which was hard to explain because they don't HAVE mailboxes in Azerbaijan - mail comes to the post office and if you want it you have to go get it), and then I had them write simple English sentences ('you are a clever student' or 'you are a good friend' etc. etc.) on Valentine's. With some of the awesome art supplies I received, we made some pretty great mailboxes and valentine's. My mailbox is full of very well-intentioned, gramatically incorrect or just gramatically odd notes. My fav, "You are a teacher!" or "You nice teacher!" Love 'em.

Part of the reason I HAD to commemorate Valentine's Day was because of a comment my student, Islam, made a few weeks ago. We were talking about hobbies. Conversation below:

Me: Islam, what is your hobby?

Islam: (in Azerbaijani) My hobby is being Casanova.

Me: (to my counterpart) Did he just say Casanova?

Counterpart: Yes. I think there is no English translation for this.

Me: No, Casanova is Casanova in any language.

Counterpart: Yes. His hobby is chasing girls.

6th form. My 8th formers are buried in books and still think members of the opposite sex have cooties, and my 6th formers are all about each other. Too. Cute. So, he's a little Casanova now.

It's funny now, watching the students flirt in ways that I know we all used to when we were in school. Playing MASH at sleepovers...(I found a notebook, yes from the 6th form, that had some pairings in the making...I couldn't quite figure out how it worked). What's sad though, is that for these kids, the only contact they get with students of the opposite sex is a) their classmates, and b) their relatives.

My one PCV friend's host sister is going to marry her cousin this year. And her father actually didn't want to let her, but she insisted, and he relented. This isn't surprising here, because her cousin was the one and only boy she's ever been able to hang out with, ever been able to have a normal conversation with, and be herself around. At least she's getting married to someone she's comfortable with...

Gender norms are VERY strict, and pretty much any time you say you are hanging out with a boy, it is assumed to be romantic, or have the possibility of becoming romantic. Unmarried women and men aren't to be together alone, ever, walking, driving, at a restaurant, in the park, and especially not in the house or a bedroom. Even the word, 'dost' is hard to drop. It means friend, but is generally used for a male, and so when I say I have a 'dost,' it is entirely possible that the person I'm talking to hears that I have a boyfriend. And of course, if you have a boyfriend, the assumption is that you will marry him. So. You know. Talking about these things is odd with HCNs. Fortunately, I'm a little above this as a foreign woman. I'm not held to exactly the same standards as Azerbaijani women, but sometimes I am, so it becomes hard to tell. The exception came the other night, when I was guesting at my new male site-mates home in the village. When it got late, myself and my two male sitemates retired to his room to watch a movie, and get ready for bed. The family acted like nothing was up, and really just laughed when the two of them had to share the pull-out couch...hehe.

There are a lot of initiatives going on in country to help relax these gender traditions, or to at least open up a conversation, so that people can make their own choices. Some official initiatives, and some just PCVs having conversations. I'm starting to think that when it comes to gender development, it isn't giving money or throwing birth control at women, but its just talking. Having a conversation. And not just with the women, but getting the men involved too. It's a two way street, and it takes two to tango (and all sorts of other phrases that talk about twos...).

Some resources for your consideration:

Half the Sky by Nicholas Kristof (just finished it, READ IT! READ IT! READ IT!)

http://www.vday.org This is Eve Ensler's mega initiative. She wrote the Vagina Monologues, and now they've taken on a life of their own...being produced all over the world, raising money for a different charity each year, to stop violence against women. A violence which stems not only from war, but deeper, from cultural expectations and norms that are unfair and oppressive. (V-Day, Until the Violence Stops is a pretty good crash-course documentary about the work she's done and the movement has started...)

...and there's a whole slew of other stuff out there...

International Women's Day is March 8...and I'm starting to wonder why we don't celebrate this in America...I'm sure I'll have a whole other post on that one as the day comes up...

One of the things I think I miss most about America - sorry Mom, sorry Dad, sorry Trader Joe's, sorry movie theaters - is reliable utilities.

Came back from a bomb party in the village Friday morning, to find that the entire city of Balaken was without gas.

Now, it has been a rather mild February, the days are quite beautiful, sunny, and even a little warm. But the pipes still freeze at night...no gas, entire town, until 9:30pm. And of course, the gas guys kept saying it'd come back at 6. You know, close enough.

Also, the odd thing, was that from about 6 until 9, the electricity would go off every 15 minutes or so. Making the whole evening seem rather like the world was about to end.

Every time I lose a utility, I think I'm going to lose it forever. It is exhausting to live in this constant fear, with this constant anxiety.

On a positive note, Balaken's softball cherry has been popped (!) in the past few weeks thanks to my new sitemate Jake and I, and our experiments with local girls and guys and sports clubs. It's been awesome, for them (because they love the game, but I swear our girls are better at the game and generally less afraid of the ball than our boys are), and for me, because I used to play softball rather intensely (8 years), and I miss it like whoa. The girls have taken to it really well, and we're introducing it as a girls sport, that we are now teaching the guys. (In AZ, football [aka soccer - we're not in America anymore] is a boys sport, that sometimes the girls play. We're trying to turn this on its head...to get more girls comfortable playing, and to get girls comfortable playing the sport with guys on the teams too). What has made the whole thing even better, is that with the unusually mild weather, this means we can play outside...no restrictive outerwear necessary.

We're hoping that, as the next few weeks move ahead, we'll be able to construct a real team, that will represent our region of Balaken in an all-Azerbaijan softball league that has been created and sustained by PCVs in country. We'll travel to places like Mingechevir and Ganja, and play against teams there. It'll be the first ever team from Balaken, and fingers crossed we're able to get people to commit - both guys and girls.

Bad idea: Watching Black Swan alone in an old Azerbaijani house, in the dark. (Even worse when the movie is over and you try to turn the lights back on, you realize there is no power).

Good idea: Watching Inception. Under any circumstances. Ever. Just watch Inception.

Last year I did a terrible job of keeping up with the Academy Award Nominees, and, as an acting professional, I like to think it's part of my job to keep up with these things. So I'm trying, but it's hard because a) I don't have a movie theater, and b) the dumb academy has 10 best pic nominees so no, I'm not going to see them all. I'll be lucky if I get 5.

Black Swan was great, definitely Darren Aronofsky (the twisted mind behind Requiem for a Dream - watching that movie once was enough thanks), fronted by some great acting by Natalie Portman. Though, as an actress, I always thought playing crazy was easy. There is something strangely logical and mathematical about crazy...as long as it all added up, and it built in the right way, you could do anything. Just stay committed. That is why Ophelia will probably forever be the best time I've had in a show. I could get away with almost anything.

Inception - ok, wow. Talk about a tightly constructed film. It's hard when you create a world where odd things are possible...if you start to bend your own rules, then your viewer loses faith. (Why I hated the last Harry Potter books, JK Rowling just started making more stuff up to justify her own whims...) Inception stuck to its guns, and even to the point where the rules in place may have lowered the stakes, there was a rule to heighten it. Like in the first Pirates of the Carribean movie...you're fighting the undead. The only way it's gonna end is if they kill you, because they aren't gonna die...((SPOILER ALERT) In Inception, the rule is such that if you die in a dream you just wake up. So in the final sequence, there isn't much at stake if you get shot and don't really die. But if you get shot in those dreams you really pretty much DO die because of a fabulous conceit introduced earlier...making me squeeze the feathers out of my pillow in that whole last bit).

But true to Christopher Nolan (if you told me I could work with him if I went back to acting, I'd go back in a second. I would say that for few directors), there's suspense, drama, romance, comedy...I loved it. One of the best movies I've seen in a long long time. (I realized the last film I saw in theaters before PC was the new Fame movie...epic fail. And when I was in Istanbul I saw SATC2. Not epic, but fail.) Inception was just so satisfying. And of course I cried (the children! the children!). All good movies do that to me.

Artistically speaking, I'm coming back to life. Which is energizing. I'm doing a lot more art with the kids in class (though they ALWAYS come up to me and ask, 'can I draw this here?' 'am I allowed to draw this?' 'does this look ok?' 'will you draw this part for me, because I can't...' I think they are getting it though, the questions are less and less each time...) and I'm doing a lot more writing on my own time.

That's one thing that I have a hard time when I watch PCVs, or talk with other PCVs about, is when they mention "personal growth." Of course so many people join because they want to 'find themselves' or 'go on a spiritual journey,' well surprise surprise, it isn't going to just smack you over the head one day. It doesn't happen without a little bit of love and gentle guidance. I write, a lot. (My journal looks like a crazy person possesses me a few times a week). I meditate. I spend time alone, and I reflect. And I think that's why (I'm proud to say) I'm really happy here, and I'm probably more emotionally healthy than I've ever been in my entire life. (If you knew me in college, you'd know this is a massive step). But it didn't just happen to me, and I didn't just wake up one day and go, "YES! I GET IT NOW!" It's a journey, it still is...

Speaking of revelations...(and this might get all weird and new-agey) but I came to quite the realization about my relationship to theater, and college, and blah blah. I realized, that I kind of put "theater" in a big metal box and threw it off a bridge when I finished my degree. But in doing that, I threw away what was essentially most of my identity since, about, the age of 12. That's a big chunk of me to just lose, and makes sense why I was feeling a little lost. I'm here, I'm rebuilding my identity, but also realizing that I don't want to completely turn my back on theater. I had a really tumultuous relationship with it, but I'm trying to make it healthy now. Our love affair was long and violent and left me desparate and needy...but I think I'm mature enough to go back.

Old revelation: I was so not ready for NYU. (by NYU I mean specifically the acting program, and specifically the emotionally demanding part of the program I was in, Meisner). I just wasn't mature enough.

But, on a happy note, I think I'm coming to the realization that I want to be professionally involved in theater by making it happen, making it possible, and making it accessable to as many individuals as possible. So, Arts Administration, which could mean an MBA somewhere with a focus on Arts organizations/non-profits.

This led me to a fabulous moment the other day, while requesing more information. As I was filling in my address, of course I put, 'Azerbaijan.' Which, to my surprise (noted by squeals of delight), opened up a new drop-down menu, titled, "region." Yes, ladies and gentlemen, Yale had ALL of the major regions of Azerbaijan listed...I was proud to click the little down arrow, and select "Balaken."

Life is good here. And the future's gonna be good too.

Thank God, January is over.

Loosely translated.

February has arrived in full, complete with a snowstorm that has left my yard covered in a crisp blanket of white, and the streets covered in a mess of mush and mud.

I don't know why, but for some reason, January is always a crummy month. It was crummy last year, and though less crummy, still kind of crummy this year. I came back and had my electricity shut off, it's friggen cold, I got really ill...and I really just want to sit next to my petch and read books and drink hot chocolate. Also, because my kitchen is outside, it's too cold to really actually cook something for myself, and so I just end up eating bread and yogurt. Or bread and peanut butter. Or mandarins.

Don't worry, I take multivitamins. And this doesn't happen that frequently.

It hasn't been a complete waste of a month though. A lot of good has happened. With the arrival of two new sitemates, my flagging motivation has been, thankfully, resurrected. There are a lot of cool new clubs I'm starting (including one at a Children's hospital for the nurses and doctors, as well as a club for my friends who work at a hair salon!), and we're meeting a lot of great new contacts (including a woman who essentially organizes all the art teachers in town, another woman who wants to open a free internet center for youth, and some rockin new students who are just excellently fun to hang out with).

Some of the more exciting clubs lately have been our Girls Sports club, which saw our first meeting at the brand new Olympic Center (think Recreation Center) in town, playing softball. The girls KILLED it. They had no fears, they can throw, they can catch, one girl even took a softball to the face, got a bloody lip, and insisted on continuing to play, even as she was wiping blood off of her face. Rockstars I tell you, rockstars.

Then, this past week I was in Baku for our Mid-Service Conference. This means a lot of things. This means I've passed the halfway point of my service, and PC thinks I know enough now to not give me any more trainings. Crap. It was a great conference, gave us a lot of time to just process our experiences and our feelings, and staff was incredibly supportive. It was a little overwhelming to be around so many Americans (I'm a total introvert, so big groups and I don't get along so well anyway...but after spending so much time with only Azerbaijanis, and only a handful of Americans, it was weird. I was so tired I actually hid in my hotel room one night and went to bed at 10:30. Lame sauce.).

After the conference, I was invited back by PC Staff to help them review the TEFL Objectives and KSAs/Competencies for being in Azerbaijan. Essentially, it's a list of goals that specifically English Teachers (as opposed to YDs or CEDs) are set to accomplish, and a list of skills that English Teacher Volunteers need to have to be successful in country. A lot came up at the conference that English Teachers do more than just teach grammar, and so we tried to work that in. Again, staff was really open to our suggestions, and I think we got a lot of work done. I know for myself, I do teach English, but I do a lot of other things too. Besides community work, even my classroom time is more than just English.

I think of some of my favorite teachers from Elementary school, Ms. Balzerson (1st grade), Ms. Gemalas (2nd grade), Mrs. Harsh (1-3rd), Mrs. Roush (4-5th), Mrs. Dill, Mrs. McBride (both 8th grade)...Frankly, I don't remember a lot of what I learned in those classes...at least not a lot specifically. But I remember they encouraged me, they believed in me, they gave me the space to be creative and to be myself...that's what I want most that these kids get out of my time here. If they don't speak perfect English...ok. But if they feel empowered to go and pursue something they only dreamed of...then I've done my job.

I'm gonna be kind of like this.

Except I won't know anything about monkeys.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KwuDH5BkHvw

I'm back to Balaken, have been for about two days now, and it's hard. As always.

It's difficult to come back to Azerbaijan from what we sometimes refer to as, "the real world." Usually there is the cultural shock, realizing that Where You Were is not Where You Live, and that people and things just operate differently here. And that takes adjusting.

I was welcomed back to that full force when I stumble home, click on my lights, and, guess what, no lights. Oddly, the last time I came back to Az from a vacation I also did not have power. (It was also in the middle of an epic thunderstorm, this time it's horror-film-worthy fog).

So I headed over to Bailey's for dinner, hoping that when I returned home it'd be back. I came home. Still no power. So, my guess this time: they cut my power. I've been waiting for this to happen, because for 9 months of living in my house, I have not received a power bill. I ask, and ask. And the answer I always get is, "Wait, it will come next month." Yeah, ok. Or they'll just shut it off.

Now, in Azerbaijan, they actually use the verb, "to cut" when they talk about the company shutting off your power. So I start calling people I know, my landlord, my friend the electric guy, etc etc, "Ishiq yoxdur! Kesilibdir!" (There are no lights! They have been cut!)

Finally, I get sympathy, and instructions. Go to the electric dept, get a bill, pay the bill, and then someone will turn your power back on. Great. Awesome.

So I go, the guy isn't there, come back in an hour. Fine. I come back in an hour, to a very severe looking man in a black turtleneck and black coat, and explain in ruggged Azerbaijani (because every time I want to speak Azeri now French comes out...too long in Paris...), and he says, "Have a seat, we'll take care of it." He starts making calls, people come running in and out, and finally I get my bill. 47.37. For 9 months, which makes sense, really...but that's a lot out of my already sagging bank account. So I pay them, because it's the holiday and I can't pay for any of that at the post office, and wait as he makes more calls to get someone to restore my power.

As we wait, inevitably, the questions begin. Where are you from? What do you do here? Why are you here? Are you married? Will you get married in Az and stay here forever? The usual. When they figure out I teach English, they decide they want me to teach them English. They want a course. So, I might be teaching the workers at AzerEnerji how to speak English. I digress...

Finally, he gets somebody on the line who can turn my power back on. He says, "Let's go." I grab my coat, head outside, and see two rugged Azeri guys driving in a big ol' truck full of construction equipment. He gives them directions, and tells me to get in. I ride home in the back of a truck with these guys, get to my house, and they start to work on getting me my power back.

Little did I know, that when they say they 'cut your power' they LITERALLY mean they cut your power lines. Like, with a knife. They slice them.

So this one guy puts on these metal hooks over his shoes (our electrical poles have steps on them, these don't, he just gets special footwear), and begins to scale the wooden pole outside of my house. And he puts the lines back together, and BAM! power.

Try adjusting to that after 5 days in Vienna, 5 days in Paris, and another 3 in Baku. Just try...

Now I'm in recovery mode. I'm cleaning, I'm sleeping, I'm trying to get my energy and my motivation back to start working. It's harder now too, because I finished up all of my projects before I left, so now I'm kind of starting fresh all over again. It's a great opportunity, but it makes it difficult.

Also, it's colder here than I remember it EVER being last year. So cold that my laundry is frozen to the line. I'm bringing it in bits at a time to thaw...so, yes, try motivating your exhausted, culture-shocked body out into weather like this. Oh the pec is so warm...

I'll get there. I really will. Last time it took me about 3 weeks...I predict this time it'll take me a lot less than that. School starts up again tomorrow, which is a really good way to get myself in gear.