A few days ago, the Senate voted 86-13 to approve the Defense Authorization Bill--a "must pass" piece of legislation that included a set of provisions dramatically curtailing the rights of American citizens. The bill would allow the executive virtually unlimited power to detain indefinitely American citizens suspected of aiding a terrorist without a trial or due process until the "end of the hostilities" (e.g. the"War on Terror"). So, as Jon Stewart wryly paraphrased, "when 'terror' surrenders and ceases to be a human emotion, you are free to go." Perhaps I have been gone too long but I thought I had just left behind a country that regularly deprives its own citizens of silly indulgences such as "due process." Even stranger was the strange mix of allies I found in my growing dissatisfaction with what I have come to call "the politics of buzz words." Some, like my own Minnesota Senator Al Franken were to be expected in their opposition. Other allies were more surprising--of the 13 Senators to vote against the measure that would put into serious question our Constitutional rights (even here in the United States), 6 Republicans and 1 Independent voted "nay." Among them, I found myself nodding along with Senator Rand Paul (R-KY) during his comments on the floor. Talk about cognitive dissonance.

But really, more disturbing than anything were the arguments I heard in both the media and on the Senate floor in favor. Since coming back, my sensitivity to intellectually bereft slogans serving to manipulate the masses has diminished dramatically. For most Azerbaijani students, there is a "right" and a "wrong" answer to everything--even questions more complicated than "what is 2+2?" One of the biggest issues many of the TEFL (Teaching English as a Foreign Language) Volunteers face is whether to participate in teaching one of the elementary English language textbook topics regarding Armenia entitled, "Do You Know About Armenian Terrorism?" The compulsory practice of teaching such state-sponsored texts results in a population whose collective civil discourse represents something of a glorified spelling bee.

"What is the most important challenge facing your country?"

"Getting our Karabagh back from the evil Armenian terrorist occupiers."

"Who is your role model?"

"Of course, our national leader, Heydar Aliyev."

"Do you accept that people on both sides suffer during war?"

"They are just Armenians."

"What are your goals in life?"

"To protect our motherland--it is my most precious wish to die as a martyr fighting the evil Armenian occupiers."

I am not paraphrasing--these are actual quotes from children as young as 8 years old. In many ways, it makes sense. When I was a trainee, we attended a meeting with the Minister of Youth and Sport in the city of Sumgayit, about 20 minutes from the capital city of Baku. During the meeting, I asked him what his Ministry was doing to increase youth voter education, civic engagement, etc. He told me that in an effort to remain non-partisan, the Ministry limited its activities to holding a concert for those who did vote in the recent parliamentary election. "But now, I must inform you about something of great importance to the development of our youth: The truth about the supposed 'Armenian Genocide' of 1915." He proceeded to show us pamphlets they had disseminated to local youth which flatly denied the intentional killing of Armenians by the Ottoman Empire during World War I. As I found to be typical of the academic discourse common in Azerbaijan, there were few citations and the same sort of acid-tripping logic characteristic of Iranian political statements denying the Holocaust. Using words such as "damned Armenian dogs" and "supposed atrocities" in four languages, it seemed that this pamphlet was apparently just non-partisan enough for print. Of course, it included a conclusion ensuring that one should feel no sympathy for Armenians and stressed the imperative of exposing the truth about Armenia's genocidal campaign against Azerbaijan.

At the time I was very angry. However, listening to arguments of this recent Senate measure as well as what seems to be our predominant national discourse regarding Islam in America, homosexual civil rights, etc. has made me take a step back. Arguments in response to Senator Paul's statements boiled down to "Senator Paul is okay with terrorists being allowed to kill Americans." Herein lies my war on the politics of buzz words. Say "terrorism"--formerly "communism" a few generations ago--and people are expected to line up in droves to give up their civil liberties no-holds barred. After the 2003 Iraq invasion, people used phrases like "freedom isn't free" and "don't you support our troops?" to justify a particular perspective, making it infallible and universally right. It has become a staple in American political discourse to place anti-abortion legislation supporters on the misleadingly normative side of "life." Such labels leave no room for the necessary and realistic nuances that arise from issues as complex as war, terrorism or abortion legislation. Clearly, the 13 Senators who voted against the Defense Authorization Act do not want Americans to be killed by terrorists. Similarly, I would venture to say that people like myself who did not support the invasion of Iraq are, in fact still in favor of freedom and respectful of men and women in military. Finally, in a world plagued by war, poverty, and gross abuses of human rights, isn't it something of an oversimplification to label someone "pro-death" simply because she or he believes abortion to be a choice for individual women and not the state?

Growing up, my parents would always say that more than words, it is one's actions--particularly those committed when no one else is around--that define one's identity. What then does it say about our support for the spread of democracy if our we sell weapons to countries that will use them to crush peaceful protesters? How do we judge a president who would campaign on a platform of human rights and then sign into law a measure stripping Americans of civil liberties guaranteed to them by the Constitution? These are important questions we need to be asking--and answering with more than buzz words memorized from MSNBC or Fox News. In Azerbaijan, one is tossed in jail for voicing his or her opinion about such questions via blogs, newspapers, or the political system. There is a system meant to quash individual and collective dissent. What is our excuse? If there is a place where the democratic experiment will elevate the level of public discourse, proving freedom, security and a culture of critical openness are directly related, let it be here.

It has been about a week since we have been back in the Twin Cities and I have to say that this experience continues to be new and surprising. In many ways, I have been glad to come back home around the holiday season. It is a time when people who are away return and the general dynamic is a good one. Decorations abound and good cheer is in good supply. Overall, a good environment for that dreaded Returned Peace Corps process: Readjustment.

During our "Close of Service" Conference, there were several seminars about the inevitable readjustment that all Returned Volunteers (RPCVs) have to make. Maybe I was overly cavalier or just naive but at the time, I brushed these predictions off as unlikely. In my mind, I would come back, transition to the dynamics of life in the States with friends and family as I had left them and all would go on without a hitch. In some ways, this prediction has been surprisingly accurate. My friends and family while not exactly the same as their two-years prior selves, remain fabulous. I have also recently secured a job as an assistant librarian at St. Paul Academy and Summit School, one of the most prestigious private schools in Minnesota. In other ways, snafus continue to pop up. Whether it is forgetting the geography of a city I used to understand like the back of my IPOD or forgetting the appropriate things to discuss given the altered social dynamics of one's new surroundings, I continue to give a nod to John L. and his thoughts about plans.

With that said, however, I must say that transitioning at this time of the year has thrown into sharp light, the reality that I have a great deal to be thankful for--and that without certain elements of my existence, this process would have been exponentially more difficult. First and foremost, my parents have done more for me--and Oruj--than I could ever begin to repay them for. It is a rare blessing to have a family who really knows you as well as all of your unpleasant qualities...and yet continues to love you anyway. Having spent two years away from the familiar and the familial, I have to say that I am in something of a shock by the generosity and love which persists regardless of my nonsense. I also have to say, this pattern has grown into something of a trend as I have gotten older, proceeding from family to an ever-expanding circle of friends and community. The bottom line is that, in my experience, behind 99.9% of all RPCVs is love coming from an infinite number of places.

After 28 hours of travel time, we are happily in the Twin Cities! After hearing immigration horror stories from several friends and colleagues, we were nervous to say the least. We had chosen the course of least forecasted resistance as far as flight plans went (Baku to Istanbul to Chicago to Minneapolis) and had more paperwork than I believed possible. Still, as a certain Beetle said, "if you want to hear G-d laugh, tell G-d all your plans." Ultimately, with the exception of a few really rude DHS officers at the O'Hare International Airport--I still maintain this characteristic is part of their job description--our crossing over came off without a hitch. We then proceeded to other complications.

Going through my undergraduate study abroad experience and "in between" trip home from Peace Corps Azerbaijan without the dreaded "reverse culture shock," I had decided returning after 27 months away would be no different. Once again, John L. was right. Perhaps it was the nature of my time in a country with not a decent toilet to be found or the length of time spent, but over the past two days I have noticed some serious differences in processing all that is going on around me.

Application No. 1: The day after I arrived, I enthusiastically volunteered to take on the task of walking to Trader Joe's for the breakfast groceries. Not only did I take unprecedented pleasure at the sight of cars adhering to the rule of traffic lights, but I almost teared up after noticing pre-made enchilada sauce available on the shelves. The thought process went something like this: "You mean I don't have to make it myself? Wait a minute--are those instant udon soup packages? Wait. They're organic too?!" There were so many options which had hitherto represented the seemingly unattainable prizes of diligent labor with substitutes galore: Lasagna, curry, pinto de gallo, etc. The irony is that I was so afraid of spending the entirety of my readjustment allowance that I bought nothing except some olive oil and orange juice.

Application No. 2: Yesterday morning, I turned on "Meet the Press" only to be greeted by Mr. Preibus, Chairman of the Republican National Committee. A less-than-welcome sight by some standards but, having spent two years in a country where divergent public discourse for the betterment of the overall intellectual good is all-but nonexistent, I decided to bite the proverbial bullet and listen. For two years, I have lectured on the constructive social, political and cultural benefits intrinsic to public freedoms of speech, expression, assembly, etc. Amnesty International has recently listed Azerbaijan an as one of the "Five Countries Where Your Online Comments Could Land You in Jail" and Freedomhouse has consistently given it failing marks on political and social freedom. Azerbaijan's track record on human rights, corruption and political repression is, by any objective standard, deplorable (please do bear in mind, as an RPCV, I am allowed to freely discuss objective facts such as these). When I showed students episodes of "The Daily Show with Jon Stewart," my students immediately asked if this funny man was sitting in jail. As a result, I came to celebrate the fact that Fox News exists as an exercise in the resilience of a truly free society. So I don't agree with 99.9% of the statements made on that network but at least they are allowed to exist, right? In the words of Voltaire, "I do not agree with what you have to say, but I'll defend to the death your right to say it." Yes, proud to be an American.

All of this was well and good...until Mr. Preibus woke me up from my idealistic slumber. It seems to be a general Returned Peace Corps Volunteer reality that one feels compelled to binge on news and information upon coming home. Two years of isolation does not sit well with us. Hence, "Meet the Press" was just the tip of the iceberg as a proceeded to reacquaint myself with current events in the United States. As I watched, read and listened, I was struck by the unpleasant surprise that much of the political rhetoric espoused by the current GOP Presidential front-runners reflected the intellectual emptiness found in Azerbaijani political propaganda. Coming back, I had forgotten about the wholesale hatred, cult-of-personality and ten word simplifications common to our political discourse. Time to wake up. I needed only to listen to Newt Gingrich's diatribes regarding the working poor--or lack thereof, in his estimation--and Rick Santorum's blatantly ignorant endorsement of profiling Muslim men to understand that the practice of appealing to the lowest common intellectual denominator is not limited to post-Soviet police states. That both former candidate Herman Cain and Michele Bachmann could be considered even somewhat legitimate after one states "Americans need a leader not a reader" and the other couldn't place Libya in Africa says, in the words of "The West Wing," we have "set the bar so low, I can barely look at it anymore."

When I was in Azerbaijan, one of the most challenging parts of my service was enduring what seemed to be an unending progression of hate speech and political propaganda hiding a litany of human rights violations. It seems I spoke too soon in my one-sided critiques of public ignorance. I had convinced myself that access to political liberties would elevate the standard of public discourse and create more complex discussions befitting a free society. Transition fail.

I am sure that in the coming days, these reflections will continue. I only hope that when the next one comes, I will have a large cup of coffee next to me.

As my time in Azerbaijan comes to an end, I am left feeling like someone caught between two places--the familiar and the remembered. Somewhere over the past two years, Azerbaijan has become home in unique and surprising ways. At the same time, Minnesota has transformed into something wholly abstract and static in my day-to-day life. Many Peace Corps Volunteers spend a good chunk of their time fantasizing about the comforts and aspects of "home" that are familiar: dryers, grocery stores with products in English, seat-belts, etc. We think about our family, friends, professional/academic endeavors that wait for us to continue with when we return to "our real life." I know this mentality has characterized a great deal of my Peace Corps existence. However, now that I am about to close my service, I am struck with a new and acute sense of loss. I realize that somewhere between landing in Baku in October 2009 and the present, I have acquired friends, experiences and ideas wholly unique sense of home. It is important to note here that I am not speaking literally in the strictest sense. For example, I never got used to the racial harassment walking down the street or the feeling of living in a place seemingly devoid of political freedom. The cultural and social differences were almost always palpable, whether in a work or professional setting. At the same time, I think of all of the relationships and experiences that have come out of my time in Azerbaijan--people and places that will continue to influence me long after I return to the United States--and I can't help feeling that, despite it all I will be leaving a home this week.

Peace Corps Azerbaijan has given me an opportunity to connect with people whom I would never have had the opportunity to meet otherwise. On a personal level, this experience has been an exercise in breaking down borders--those of race, religion, age, location, experience, etc. Talking to other PCVs, I discovered a wealth of experience and ways of living about which I had been wholly ignorant as a college student in Azerbaijan. Up until I came to Azerbaijan, the spectrum of lifestyles with which I was acquainted was limited to say the least. Most of my friends were generally my age and in a fairly similar place (literally and figuratively). Peace Corps challenged those kinds of borders. A case in point: For the past two years, one of my best friends and closest allies has been a 65 year-old woman from the east coast.

On another level, working as a youth development specialist in a cross-cultural context has allowed me to challenge the absolutes of the ideals I had so fervently argued for as an undergraduate and activist. In this case, it hasn't been that I have wholly reversed my views but rather that they have become more resilient in their expression. I have been able to see the concrete importance inherent to the debates we have in the public and private spaces of our lives, whether they be about gender, rights or the question of development. If you had asked me as an undergraduate feminist, "what should happen if a young woman finds her rights and agency curtailed within the context of her community and/or family?" I would have offered an innocuous and rather naive answer regarding the necessity of offering opportunities and empowering the individual in question to demand her own agency. Having worked with these young women, I now appreciate how complicated and nuanced our answers to these issues need to be. I have also been amazed by what Amy Tan calls "the invisible strength" of the young men and women with whom I had the chance to meet and work. My conversations with them has really been the motivating spirit of my work here.

It is an oddity to think that a week from now, I will be in Minnesota and attempting yet another set of transitions. Oruj and I will look for temporary jobs while waiting to hear from graduate schools, I will be attempting to reconnect with friends after two years on both ends, we may even be ambitious and attempt to plan our second/third weddings! As I prepare to go, I remember that I started this experience with a quote from Kahil Gibron's The Prophet and would like to end it that way as it still communicates my feelings about this experience:

"Then the gates of his heart were flung open, and his joy flew far over the sea. And he closed his eyes and prayed in the silences of his soul. But he descended the hill, a sadness came upon him and he thought in his heart: How shall I go in peace and without sorrow? Nay, not without a wound in the spirit shall I leave this city...A seeker of silences am I, and what treasure have I found in silences that I may dispense with confidence? If this is my day of harvest, in what fields have I sowed the seed and in what unremembered seasons?"

These pieces do not necessarily express my personal views and absolutely do not articulate those of Peace Corps Azerbaijan.

Amnesty International: "International community must act on Azerbaijan Crackdown"

Download the full Amnesty International report on imprisoned activists in Azerbaijan

Originally posted on AmnestyInternational.org/en

As is to be expected, this piece does not necessarily express my personal views and most definitely does not articulate those of the United States Peace Corps.

"Azerbaijan: Baku's Deep Pockets for Art Abroad Contrasts with Restrictions at Home" by Khadija Ismayilova

I read somewhere that dentists have the highest suicide rate of any profession. I am not sure if this is true. However, I can understand why dentists might leave their offices with a highly developed sense of slightedness. They see people who are cranky and not too happy to be visiting. They also almost inevitably recieve an angsty "yerrrrsss" when asking if his/her patient is uncomfortable, in pain, unhappy, etc. Sure, they get weekends off but I always imagined that time spent doing yoga or golfing--anything to rid his/her mind of the complaining sissies they will soon have to lecture on issues of flossing and cavities.I bring this because today I completed yet one more step of the seemingly never-ending "Close of Service" process--the dental exam. As you have probably gathered , I have never been a big fan of dentist visits. However, two years of Peace Corps service in the regions of Azerbaijan have compelled me to reconsider (at least in theory) the importance of such exercises in oral health.

If there is one thing I have learned from my time as a student and Volunteer abroad, it is we are all products of our culture. For me, "culture" may mean anything from the place in which we are raised to the language we speak to the social norms we come to internalize. Perhaps it is the result of my undergraduate solidarity with post-modern theorizing and deconstructive perspectives, but before Peace Corps I assumed the possibility of separating myself from my own cultural biases. While not a relativist by any stretch of the imagination, I generally prefer to err on the side of complexity rather than self-righteous preaching. Hence, when speaking of human rights, gender equality and other charged subjects, I have attempted to maintain something of a balanced--though certainly not neutral--public persona. However, anyone who has spent a substantive amount of time abroad has probably found that it is the little and unexpected things that invariably bring out one's "inner"--though not necessarily "ugly"-- American. Early in my service, I spoke to a friend working as a dentist in the regions. She told me that of all her patients, only one brushed her teeth with any regularity and 99% of her appointments were for the purpose of extracting rotting teeth. I asked if she had ever thought to go to local schools and give some presentations on the importance of oral health--after all, it was plays like "Tilly the Tooth" that really drove the oral health message home for my third grade self. She told me no, the schools would not allow such presentations because they were considered too reminiscent of "youth education" programs enacted during the Soviet Union. When I asked my own students to identify the most important area of health, the response was unanimous: The heart. Teeth? No, it is normal to loose them early--they have no relationship to one's overall health. The next day I went guesting and watched a neighbor feed her three month-old infant sweet tea through a bottle. Engage culture shock...now.

As I took my seat in the cushy Baku ex-pat dental office, I was struck by the degree of my own cultural bias. The neutral tones, smooth jazz, magazines clearly aimed at a middle aged soccer mom readership all made me feel at home. Granted, the last time I was made to wear foot scrub slippers over my shoes, I was at the Taj Mahal but still...There was something familiar about it. Even the interrogation regarding the frequency of my flossing was somewhat comforting. However, my dentist then proceeded to speak Russian at an aggressively quick clip and blinded me with an overhead light before poking at my gums with no questions regarding my comfort level. Clearly not home yet.

One thing that I learned when I was a student abroad in college was that, in general, American women oversees seem to gain weight while their male counterparts maintain or lose it. I also found this trend does not occur for lack of trying on the women’s side. On Global Semester, some of my female friends packed resistance bands, podcasts, running shoes and even a scale. I myself tried to run and do yoga whenever possible to counterbalance the immense amount of local food I seemed to be devouring. When I was preparing for two years as a Peace Corps Volunteer, I noticed that one of the big topics online between my fellow AZ 7s was the fear of weight gain.

When I got to Azerbaijan, I found my original aspirations to run or do exercise of any sort in public thwarted due to a combination of local social norms and my increasing fear of rabid dogs / potholes. Opportunities for exercise amongst Peace Corps Volunteers seem to depend heavily on a combination of one’s region, gender and personality. In Salyan, running—particularly for women—was simply not comprehensible for most people. Further, the dog population and street conditions made public exercise something of an adventure. In Ganja, there are more opportunities and the perception is slightly different. Still, if one goes running in Azerbaijan’s second largest city, she or he can bet on a lot of attention. It should be mentioned that this trend is not always limited to women—it is said that a group of locals once asked a male volunteer to stop running in their neighborhood because their wives looked at his legs each time he ran by. If you are the sort of person who can block out staring, catcalls and the occasional gaggle of jealous husbands, this should not be a problem. However, I am not one of these people. I have therefore turned to the stockpile of exercise videos provided by my fellow volunteers. The result: An inundation of ways to lose weight, guided by women (and men) who unlike myself, are clearly not being force-fed liquid fat and bread everyday.

Over the past two years, I have become something of an expert on the home workout video from Zumba (Latin dance workout) to “Beachbody Insanity” to “Power 90 X.” Perhaps it was two years of living outside my comfort zone but it was only today while attempting to master the surprisingly complicated moves of “Brazil Butt Lift,” that I came to a shocking but inevitable realization: I look ridiculous. The only one who saw me doing these moves was George the guinea pig. In the middle of my effort to "do the Brazilian drums" to shape what the instructor called "my bum bum," I noticed George staring at me. His eyes said, "I can’t believe I know you.” Hence, with one month before I become a lifetime member of the YMCA, I gave up on the videos and did half-hearted push-ups.

My time in Azerbaijan is almost done. With just over a month until I officially “close” my service, the number of items on my to do list continue to pile up: Language testing, an endless battery of paperwork, and all the good bureaucratic practices that come with Peace Corps service. From what I have heard, this time has historically been an opportunity for reflection, travel and relaxation. Unfortunately, it was not to be.

About a week ago, our landlady called to tell us that as of the first of the month, we would be officially homeless. Apparently, she has found someone willing to commit to two years and 50 Manat more than us. This development is abnormal on several levels. In over two years here, I have never gotten the impression that planning is a cultural norm by any means. A friend of mine while working with her Azerbaijani counterpart, commented on the lack of plans she noticed in business and academic life. The counterpart—a professor of English at a local Ganja university—responded by saying: “Yes, because if you don’t make plans then you cannot be disappointed.” Hence, the notion of planning to stay for two years is an oddity rendered even more bizarre by the fact that the toilet pump and showerhead stopped working over four months ago. I suppose I should be grateful for these circumstances as the utilization of buckets for both flushing and bathing purposes seem to have manifested themselves as staple PC experiences. Herein lies another peculiarity: Anyone living in Azerbaijan knows that for 200 Azerbaijani Manat a month in Ganja, one may expect at the very least a working toilet, an electric water heating system working through a functional showerhead and view of something other than a garbage dump. However, it seems I have learned again that “the man who knows everything admits he knows nothing” in the words of Socrates. I wonder if Socrates was a Peace Corps Volunteer.

As a result of this new development, Oruj and I will be bouncing around from Ganja to Baku to Sheki and back again before we board a plane home at the beginning of December. In some ways, this will be nice as I will be able to do some holiday shopping and do some last-minute site seeing. More to follow from here. Peace and love.

Apologies for the light and angle. It gets adjusted about 30 seconds in. Still awesome.

Apologies for the long bit between entries but this month seems to have gone by in a hurry. I have been traveling a lot more this month than any other time in my service. A lot of this change of pace has to do with participation in my friend, Catherine’s grant entitled “Teaching Through Travel.” The grant is meant to increase students’ awareness and understanding of their own country through experiential learning. In a place where most students learn almost exclusively through information retention, this idea is a relatively brilliant one. Our travels have taken us to Sheki, Baku, and Gusar. In many ways, I feel happy to be involved with a project like this as I have been able to do a lot of really fantastic things. For example, in Baku, I was able to lead a training on the subject of racism and stereotyping that culminated in a “field trip” of sorts to the Great Wall Restaurant in Baku. I think this was one of the most rewarding experiences of the month for me because there was not one racial slur or gesture from any of the ten teenage boys who came—apparently the food was actually a big success too! In Gusar, we spent time with a mixed gender group, splitting them into teams for meal preparation and clean up—quite the success! The students learned about Lezgi culture and people (a minority group living in Azerbaijan). In Sheki, we spent time with a fantastic group of girls who were able to experience restaurants and life sans parents—some for the first time. In other ways, such trips have reinforced my belief that I am ready to come home. In Sheki, the bus driver got into an argument with Oruj and told him that he had “sold out his country” for marrying a foreigner. On several occasions, we passed through regions that were engaged in “renovation”—that is, putting on grandiose facades to otherwise unaltered “rabbit house” apartment buildings. In Ganja, the streets have been torn up for weeks, whole clusters of buildings housing small business are being taken down because owners are told that they do not have the “correct documents.” Other business are putting up new facades made of a material in which the new mayor is rumored to have a financial investment. In a matter of days, whole portions of the local economy are gone or severely curtailed at the very least. In an almost serendipitous turn of events, the month ended with attending my COS (Close of Service) Conference. It was the last time that the whole of us AZ 7s will be together before we finish this fall/winter. During the conference, I took in a lot of information about career resources, health insurance, and “life after Peace Corps.” As with most things Peace Corps, I think that it will take a while to process all of this—at the time it was a little difficult given that my room at the Aqua Park was across the street from a rather loud disco that was not conducive to any immediate Zen moments. However, during a particularly informative session on reintegrating into American culture, I had the revelation that I want to buy an I-Phone, will actively reject this new “Cloud” phenomenon and am pleased to hear that the “mountain man beard” is no longer “in.” I am now back in Ganja for the last few months of service. My plans? Keep working at some final clubs and finish graduate school applications (thanks to those who have taken the time to read my statement of purpose). There will be a few more trips and projects to write about but for now the biggest news is that George does NOT need a passport to leave Azerbaijan!

At the time that I am writing this, the holy month of Ramadan has been going on in Azerbaijan for two days. Until the 31st of August, Muslim men and women of faith will fast from sunrise to sunset, pray, and reflect on the time they believe when G-d revealed G-dself's final revelation to the Prophet Muhammad in the form of the Qu'ran. The Azerbaijani word for "fast" is "Oruj" and the literal translation of "fasting" is "to hold oruj." Let the jokes commence now. A case in point: last year around this time, I was still taking language lessons (cue laughter). During one lesson, my tutor decided that it was a good time to drill some Azerbaijani words related to Ramadan. Her first question: "do you hold oruj?" At which time, she broke down giggling as if it were the funniest and wittiest pun since the introduction of "punny" to the English lexicon. It makes me wish that I had a name that so often appeared on Turkish CNN with Q and A sessions on "how to hold Beth." Oh well. I guess some people have all the luck...

Not too much else to report as of now except that I will be traveling a lot to different parts of Azerbaijan, in order to help Catherine with a project related to travel and education. I will also be going to Baku for my close of service conference. Oh--a small detail I forgot to mention: Oruj, George, and I will be traveling home (USA) sometime in the early part of December as my COS date has been set for November 30th! Because there is little-to-no conception of the magnificent species that is the guinea pig, I imagine that the process of trying to get George state-side will make some great blog subjects. Stay tuned!

Summer is in full swing here in Azerbaijan. Perhaps it is just residual gratitude for the end of winter, but I do not recall last summer being this hot. Bereft of air conditioning at work and home, I spend most of my free time watching Al Jazeera English in front of the fan. Still, there are some great benefits to living in Azerbaijan during the summer—namely, the availability of fresh fruit and vegetables for very cheap prices. As veggie-lovers, George and I are quite happy about this new development. Sure, Minnesota, you condone shorts for men and air conditioning in public places but in Ganja there are fresh tomatoes for 38 cents a kilo! In Azerbaijan, it is widely-known that if you want to pay more but have air conditioning, go to the grocery store. If you want to bargain in the heat for cheaper, go to the bazaar. Sometimes I wonder what I will do when I return to the States, go to the farmer’s market and wonder why people don’t want to bargain...AND things are cheaper at the grocery stores.

The other benefit of summertime is that I have had a chance to catch up a little on my news. I am not sure if this opinion is true of me or people abroad in general but I do get the impression that I am returning to a broken country. It is an odd thing, watching the news from the outside and wondering what my impressions might be were I at home. In some ways, living in a society where xenophobia is a more integrated means of social behavior has refocused how I understand the same sort of tendencies we have in the United States. The minute I want to get on my soap box about civic engagement and the resilience of democracy in the world, I turn on the news see the leaders of my country—and their supporters, I might add—squabble like name-calling grease ball children…again. I had thought that the majority of the hypocritical and short-sighted “Obama,suck on this machine gun” and birth certificate / bad country music enthusiast movements were fading when I left. When my students asked me “why do Americans hate Muslims?” I would have a good, substantive answer. I believed that “there is no red America or blue America [but] a United States of America” idea was starting to take hold on both sides of the aisle. Apparently not. From what I see and read, I am coming back to a country ready to fall apart. Perhaps it was always like this and all you need to understand is to leave and observe from the outside, thinking “thank G-D that I am in a country where no one knows the name "Michelle Bachmann."

Of course, because I am not State-side, the majority of my information comes from those also on the outside. Aside from the Turkish version of CNN and the less-than-objective state-controlled channels, I do have my friends in Doha/London at Al Jazeera. This situation brings to light the difficult issues of interpretation when watching international news coverage of one’s country. As a student abroad in places like Mubarak’s Eygpt I became well-aware of the fact that much of the world believes Americans to be--in the words of David Sedaris--“the trumpeting elephants of the human race.” In some ways, I can sympathize with this perception—we are a loud and often ostentatious people. However, I am lead to question the depth of this perception when I watch Al Jazeera’s coverage of Independence Day celebrations in which the ridiculously drunken co-eds can’t tell even the befuddled reporter who we fought during the Revolutionary War or the first president. Coverage of our politicians and supporters is even less forgiving. The message seems to be: “they may be stupid, obnoxious, and horribly self-involved…but man, can Americans eat those hot dogs!” I find myself indignantly throwing popcorn at the TV shouting, “we aren’t all like that! I don’t even like hot dogs!” On some level, I feel a new affinity with people in more than a few groups who watch Fox News and MSNBC with the same response to significantly more offensive and direct statements. I like to think the fact that for two years of my life, I have been in Azerbaijan and stuffing dolma into my vegetarian mouth is a clear sign that not all people from the States are intellectually insular, anti-everything-that-isn’t-Irving Berlin-McCarthian-trigger-happy “ugly Americans.” But is it really?

I like to think so. I recently gave a lesson at my organization about the 4th of July and its significance for Americans. At the beginning, students stared blankly at me, expecting a uniformly positive and slightly militaristic diatribe about my country’s superiority to others. Instead, I showed clips from the film “Born on the Fourth of July”—a movie with little to do with Independence Day itself but containing a story demonstrative of somethings that I have come to appreciate about the United States: the general sense of possibility and collective recognition of political, social, and cultural freedom as a means to improve upon a less-than-perfect history. My students seemed slightly disappointed—I think they wanted fireworks or a parade. Afterwards, I went to the internet clubg to watch Jon Stewart. His collective-self-deprecating humor always makes me feel better for some reason.

Oruj and I have traveled to Georgia twice in less than a month. The first time, we went so that I could confront the GRE once again. The second time around, our trip was concerned with the purpose of completing the legal equivalent of the Boston Marathon also known as the final immigrant visa interview. Overall, this eight-month process has been killer to say the least and has frankly felt more like a lifestyle than an application. For those who are unfamiliar with the process of "petitioning for an alien relative," it goes something like this: pay a substantial pile of money in fees on multiple occassions, wait for countless hours in local administrative offices for documents that the staff have probably never heard of, and arm yourselves with as much evidence confirming the veracity of your relationship as possible. Needless to say, the better part of the last two weeks has been spent sifting through and selecting a manageable number of photos, printing and highlighting thirty pages / 2 years of phone bills, and grilling each other over what kinds of toothpaste the other really does enjoy best. When we reached Tbilisi, we did what experience had taught us: scope out the location of where you want to be a day in advance because nothing is what it seems in the "Qafqaz" (Caucasus) neck of the woods. A case in point is our search for the American Councils two weeks earlier when we realized that the address "45a ___ Street" assumes the seeker knows which part of the street to be on as both sides progress in ascending numerical order, including both odd and even numbers on both sides as well as which side street to which "a" refers. In any case, we made it to the Embassy which is literally on the opposite end of the city from anywhere one would expect to find herself were she not going to the Embassy. All seemed to be well.

The next day, we got up and proceeded to get dressed and go on our merry, pre-set way. Of course prior to coming, Oruj and I had paid extra care to outfits, attempting to maintain a balance between the boiling hot weather and the circumstantial need for professional dress/image. Here, I must clarify that one of the defining characteristics of Peace Corps life is the repetition of one's wardrobe. We used to joke on Global Semester that we knew it was bad when we started to memorize each other's clothing. In Peace Corps, it has gone to a new level: I have honestly just assumed that my wardrobe is not only the same in appearance but immutable in quality--that is, I will always be able to wear the pieces of clothing that I brought nearly two years ago. Imagine my surprise to find that while the size of my dress pants had remained miraculously unchanged, the zipper had not. With twenty minutes to our departure time, I beheld the reality: where there should have been a barely noticeable line created by a solidly sealed zipper, there was a clear indication of a successful zipper cessation from the fabric / zipper union that was my interview dress pants. I found myself with three possible options: 1). Try to hide the tear and hope no one would notice; 2). use the scotch tape Oruj offered me while stifling his laughter at my misfortune; 3). choose between the alternate options of denim (definitely in violation of professionalism standard) and cotton casual skirt (less so). I ended going with #3, though not without careful strategic and theoretical consideration of all possible outcomes.

After we got to the Embassy, we went through security and in the process of inspecting my bag, the security officer pulled out a tampon and asked with slight suspicion: "what is this?" At this moment, the year old inside of my mind engaged in an epic struggle with my more mature, urbane, and professional self. "It's a tampon" I told him in my "Hillary Clinton addresses the United Nations" voice. I am not sure what I expected from this statement as I have found such devices to be uncommon in Azerbaijan to say the least. Oruj attempted to help by qualifying my statement with: "it's for ladies." When the concept still failed to register, I took a different approach: "I can leave it hear with my computer charger. It's really no problem." Success! Perhaps in a different situation, I would have taken the time to elaborate on the background, benefits, and issues surrounding the tampon. However, at that time,

cross cultural exchange < interview.

One thing about my personality is that I have a tendency to be incredibly paranoid and pessimistic about application situations of which I am a part whether it be related to education, employment, or visas. Asa result, Oruj and I had gone through the document checklist on several occasions with a variety of methodologies (e.g. counting the cash from the largest bill to the 1 USD notes and vise-versa). Still, I was waiting with trepidation for the phrase: "wait a minute...X document is not here. You need to go back to Azerbaijan, get the document and several copies, and return at a later date." Fortunately this did not happen and we found ourselves over-prepared of all things. When it came time for the interview, the Embassy worker asked us a few basic questions and went through our papers while making little jokes that though Oruj didn't look the part of a criminal, he had to check anyway. After less than five minutes of questions regarding our honeymoon destination (Florida) he told us to come back the next day for the packet, seemingly intending to send us on our way. Having spent the better part of the previous week going through my phone bills spanning the better part of two years and assembling a rather colorful set of photos to prove our relationship, I was actually looking forward to this part of the interview. When I asked if he wanted to see the pictures, I sounded not unlike an Azeri mother-in-law demanding that a visitor adhere to the traditional practice of sitting down, drinking tea, and gazing at pictures for hours on end. The Embassy worker's response: "No, I believe you guys." Fin.

Lesson learned: Photo and bill-coloring exhibition < simple and easy immigration interview.

Since college, I have toyed with the idea of going “veggie”—mostly for health reasons but also because I felt what might be called “omnivore guilt” over the notion that something living would not be so because I felt the need to eat meat instead of lentils. Unlike lions or snakes, human beings do not “need” meat to survive—we can go on without it. In addition, a few choice environmental studies friends made the case we expend significantly more energy (feed, land, fuel for transportation, packaging, etc.) to eat the average piece of meat in the USA than a vegetarian entry. While many PCVs quiver at the amount of pollution (air, garbage, and otherwise) in their sites, the truth is that our carbon footprint at home remains, on average, significantly higher than any found here. Americans produce 25% of the world’s waste—we just don’t have to witness its effects directly. But I am getting ahead of myself. In any case, college was filled with enough stress thinking about papers, projects, and the state of human rights in the world without having to add the spector of bad karma rearing its ugly head for my eating chicken salad in Stav Hall.

When I came to Azerbaijan, things changed. When I was in India, I had the same feeling: things just seemed more visceral and intense in their honesty. At home, a cigarette thrown out of a parked car invites looks akin to kicking a puppy (but we’ll get to that later). Of course, there is nothing so wrong with this—high communal expectations should signal a higher standard of living for everyone. Still, I was surprised at the violence of my reaction the first time I saw a butcher shop in the regions. Azerbaijanis have a traditional dish called Xaş which is comprised of the head and/or legs of a cow or sheep in broth and served with vodka….in the morning. As a result, it is not uncommon for a whole cow head or sheep hoof to be displayed for all to see on the street corners. Internal organs and discarded hides greet pedestrians next to which two live sheep graze on old hay, seemingly resigned to their fate. The first time I saw this display, I was filled with indignation—how could this happen? Not only is this display unhealthy—it is also unappetizing! But then I thought: we do this same thing in the United States—it’s just that we don’t see the process. True, we probably discard the head of an animal instead of using it as a soup base and let’s not even mention the use of refrigerators to prevent disease but the principle is the same: this is animal slaughter. Further, it must be mentioned that the average cow in Azerbaijan is probably going to have a better overall existence than her American counterpart. True, she will be eating mostly garbage as the fields are littered with it but she will be free range grazing nonetheless. I heard somewhere that the average chicken in American factory farms will never touch the ground—it will spend its life drugged from all the hormones designed to give it larger breasts in a multi-level cage. Is this better than letting them roam free with the garbage and discarded insulin needles that decorate the path in front of my building (see photo)? I have a good friend from St. Olaf who once said that if we choose to eat meat, we should be able to watch the animal be slaughtered. I am not sure that I agree with this but I can say that there are more than a few volunteers who would vouch for its veracity (myself included).

Another cross-cultural differences that often jar PCVs is the treatment of animals we often associate with the tradition of pets. In the States, dogs and cats become part of our families, we take them to the doctor, fuss over their diets, and bring them to “five-star” kennels when we go on vacation. In contrast, most Azerbaijanis I have met view dogs and cats as things to be avoided, feared, and in some cases, adopted to the end of being restricted to the yard When we were in the USA, Oruj and I went to Petco so that I could give him an idea of the American perspective on pets. He was astonished: rats kept as pets?! Hats for your ferret?! A $30 leash for your cat?! I have to admit, our collective affair with the pet industry is a little over the top to say the least. One of my PCV friends noted that perhaps it is better in Azerbaijan: dogs are dogs here. They live in packs, find their own food, and they are free as nature intended. Of course, the fact that some communities have adopted the practice of annual dog shooting days and the ritual drowning of puppies to control the population are thoughts that will fester in my mind as less than natural. Furthermore, this schema--combined with what I assume to be a series of others--has allowed for the frequent practice of throwing stones at animals to keep them away. Perhaps this idea makes sense in theory but when the “animal” in question is a puppy and the assailants are 12 year old boys who are clearly not threatened by the laughter emitting from their mouths, I am at something of a loss. In the States, the average person will say that throwing rocks at puppies is on par with slapping your grandmother in terms of cultural no-nos. In retaliation I have sent Oruj out a few times to have chats with local boys harassing small puppies (see left), cognizant of my limited language and street-cred with local boys. The boys listen but more often than not, they just wait until they think we aren’t watching to continue. Apparently “Santa/God is watching you” doesn’t have as much of an effect.

These issues aren’t limited to small Ganja boys and helpless puppies. Many people passing through the region of Shamaxir will stop at a restaurant known for “the bear.” The owners had obtained a full grown brown bear from a local "zoo" and encased Misha (the bear) in a metal cage not even large enough for it to take two steps. Last summer on the way to another region, I watched young children and adults throwing empty containers at the bear, apparently for entertainment purposes. Later, we learned that a bear in an analogous Qabala restaurant had died and, thanks to some British tourists, the government had been informed and completed a series of raids of similar restaurants, rescuing birds, bears, etc. to be “rehabilitated." As much as we would like to think that such things happen only in locals outside the USA, analogous events are not uncommon in our communities—hence the reason my mother has expressed interest in joining an animal rights group. While I might not be a fan of the $30 cat leash or the Harley Davidson poodle jacket, I abhor the perception that animals are without emotion, feeling, or the imperative of respect. There must be a middle ground somewhere, right?

In general, Azerbaijan and the Peace Corps has taught me to look more carefully at my own existence in the United States. What issues and potential contradictions exist beneath our “progressive” social surface? Is it enough to say that “our family recycles” or “we drive a Prius?” Why not say that “we commit to consuming less” or “we use public transportation when we can to reduce the amount of pollution we put in the air?” Sounds impossible, right? Not so much as we have learned to do it everyday. I spent a lot of time wondering when I would internalize the stereotypical Peace Corps adage that “my placement taught me more than I ever taught here.” It took me a year and a half but here I am. When Oruj, George, and I get back and settled, we plan to adopt a dog from the shelter. “A Korean-American girl, an Azerbaijani boy, a Georgian guinea pig, and a homeless dog.” Sounds more like the beginning of a joke than a lesson learned but I’ll take it.

The marriage officer offered these eloquent wishes during the civil ceremony that was the first of our three weddings in Baku last Monday. I was not sure if she says that to everyone or if it was just the fact that when she said “big sons,” Tor and I both raised our eyebrows to hairline proportions such that she felt the need to reroute her speech via celestial navigation. In any case, this episode is just one of many memorable events that would characterize June 6th, 2011.ZAGS Officer in the process of foot journeying to mouth...

Fountains in downtown Baku

Khayal and some friends make an impromptu "Just Married" sign out of Korean newspapers

The festivities began when we arrived in Baku to finalize everything late the week before. Such tasks included last minute shoe shopping and going to the Marriage Office to insure that all was in order. Of course, the old Peace Corps adage held true in that, “the things that you expect to take ten minutes take three hours and the things that are supposed to take many months take a few minutes.”

Next to what is said to be the largest flag in the world.

Our trip to the Marriage Office promised to be a simple affair at the outset: walk in, ask if all is in order for Monday, and depart. But wait…It is procedure here for the civil ceremony to be scheduled more or less one month after registration. Hence our wedding date for Monday, June 6th. But it seems that the office is actually closed on Mondays and the computers necessary for producing the wedding certificate would be down. Not to worry. Oruj to the rescue. After much ranting in Azerbaijani about the value of planning and structure, the staff agreed to open the office for one hour as there were a total of six couples to be married that day."HELLO Good Pie!" Vivian with her fantastic pies!

The rest of my weekend would be filled with fun festivities at the home of good friends, Hande and Ali. We had secured the reception space at a small Korean restaurant in downtown Baku but had also planned for installments of Azeri food and pies for dessert. Had we included carrots and cucumbers to represent the guinea pig in the family, we would have been fully representative. In any case, friend and Ganja site mate, Vivian volunteered to bake 7 pies for the occasion—a most splendid and serendipitous event! As it was, both Vivian and Kathy were staying with Hande and Ali. I would pass the final 24 hours of single-statushood helping Kathy to help Vivian make basil cream for the strawberry pie and laughing over after-dinner wine with friends. If there is one thing that I am grateful for in my Peace Corps experience, it is the opportunity to meet such a wonderful group of individuals who I would never have encountered otherwise.Oruj, Me, and Kathy at the ZAGS

Elias, Oruj, Me, and Tor outside the ZAGS

"The program" for the day

The next day was a whirlwind of preparation and running. Because the Marriage Office was only to be open for an hour in the morning, we needed to be there at ten sharp. After signing several of the same forms, it was time to begin. At that time, there was only one other couple present at the office. The bride had donned the customary 15 pound dress+3 pounds of glitter expected of a traditional Azeri bride. I didn’t have much time to feel underdressed, however, because we were the first to go. The marriage officer, clad in Azerbaijani flag sash akin to Miss Universe and jeans, asked us if we “had thought about this” and proceeded through the speech (no vows for us) about the holiness of marriage and procreation in Azerbaijani. After signing and ring exchange, we left the marriage office with Tor and Kathy throwing rice. Consequently, the other bride’s mother saw the rice beforehand and requested that her daughter get some rice-love sent her way as well. Not understanding this American tradition, the bride stood there while Kathy and Tor awkwardly threw a few grains her way before she proceeded into the wedding hall, looking forward to the more familiar and less crazy practices.A slightly more traditional Azeri bride...ready, set, RICE!

Official wedding space. Please note the flowers that have probably been there since President Aliyev (the first)

After the ceremony, we spent some time with Hande and Kathy running around the Inner City and central Baku taking photographs. In addition to being a kindred spirit and wildly successful professional woman, Hande is also a fantastic photographer in her spare time. It was a fun experience, sitting on the grass (something of a cultural no-no here) and being documented doing it!Hande taking our pictures!

Inner City

Seaside

Inner City

The party began later that day amidst good friends, kimchi (spicy cabbage), jap chae (noodles with vegetables and meat), mandu guk (dumpling soup), kim bhap (seaweed rolls stuffed with rice and vegetables), plov (Azerbaijani rice pilaf), stalitchni salad (a traditional Russian salad with mayo and chopped vegetables), and pies. There was music and good cheer all around—it was as if we had created one of those rare spaces of safe happiness that remain untouched in memory, sustaining us as we move forward. For our part, it was amazing to think that Oruj and I had come so far from talking about adoption and laughing about the coincidence of our shared birthday dates to today. An important realization to note here is that, as Oruj says, “there is no one way.” There are infinite possibilities and paths through which we grow, love, and progress. None are categorically “right” or “wrong”-- only different. One of the interesting characteristics about the Peace Corps experience with regard to relationships is that a lot happens in a short space of time—there is little time or logistical space for hiding those slightly embarrassing and uncomfortable aspects of ourselves for long. Awkward sounding on the phone? Too bad—this is often your only form of communication for months at a time. Don’t feel comfortable with your significant other knowing conditions sometimes force you to take showers with a garden hose propped up inside the outhouse? Tough luck—they might even have to hold the hose up from the other side of the door because you are “vertically challenged.” No gas for two days? Electric heater skillets for two, please! And then there are the more serious challenges: the fact that your significant other must, on occasion, defend the status of your nationality for twenty minutes while grocery shopping or fend off venders interested in buying what they assume to be your “wares” (aka luggage) at the bus station. Then of course, there was last Easter when, in Azerbaijan’s one Catholic Church, the Bishop felt the need to give a homily stating the imperative of us (99.9% ex-pats, the .1% being Oruj) demonstrating to locals “that there are more benefits of being Christian than being able to drink wine and eat pork.” As I said, awkward situations. Still for me, the fact that I met someone with whom I can experience love, humor, and joy despite such uncomfortable situations is a true gift for which I will always be thankful. Of course there will be like challenges in the future but it seems to me that if your significant other has it in himself to debate the differences between guinea pigs and mice to the Azerbaijani Georgia border patrol officers to the end of maintaining the family, you have found a keeper. I am not sure what my statement will be at our wedding(s) in the United States (one Muslim, one Catholic), but I am sure that it will go something like that. In any case, thanks to all who have emailed and texted their good wishes. It means more than you know. Now on to the next…paperwork on both sides, work, and GRE attempt #2 in nine days!

Baku, Caspian Sea when it was still cold...

Spring comes to the Inner City (Baku)

Tulips!

Friends gathering in Ganja to celebrate Elias' birthday!

George's exhibition to the living room,,,

Oruj and Elias...bromance.

The pre-Celion Dion song-fest photo shoot at Tor's birthday party (Ganja)

All is well as spring makes itself manifest in all her colors here in Ganja. It is interesting and slightly uplifting to think that this time next year, I will be in the US of A. Of course, the events of the next six or so months make the prospect of carrying on up until then a rather daunting one. In the way of updates:

After more ridiculous hoop-jumping that has recently involved a three hour trip to the Marriage Office in Baku in which Oruj and I gave an impromptu cultural lesson on the proper and very improper connotations of certain racial categorizations and were conned out of 20 Qapik (about 35 cents) by the clerk taking the marriage fees determined to get her “sweet money” despite our best efforts. I get that times are tough but really?...The silver lining to all of this is that we finally have a date for wedding number one: mark your calendars for June 6th, folks! As it is, we will be having two or three more wedding processes in the near future—one for each of our respective religions that will likely take place in the States. Still, it is an interesting feeling that all of this running around stressfulness has an endpoint. Oh, right—then there is the immigration process. Like I said, busy six months.As far as the GRE and graduate school goes, I am taking the test on June 23 in Georgia. Good times. Anyone who has ever spoken to me knows that I have struggled with a lifelong aversion to standardized tests. Perhaps it is an inferiority complex or an irrational phobia of compartmentalization but I have never done well on exams meant to measure my intelligence relative to my peers. I am constantly told that institutions look at way more than the GRE and I suppose I am in a better position than if I lived in Azerbaijan, where the standardized test is literally the only thing that controls one’s professional and academic future. Still, I get the feeling that people who say such things are those same people who speak fluent French and insist that it is an easy language that anyone can learn it. I never studied for the ACT as I couldn’t bring myself to do the very thing that I am doing now: realizing just how stupid I am according to the standards of the ETS (the organization that gives all standardized tests that I know of). Today, during hour two and a half of studying to the overzealously enthusiastic twang of the Carpenters and ABBA I hit a word that I didn’t know: “ravine” (I was pronouncing it “Rae-vine”). Reading the definition went something like this: “A narrow valley with steep sides…WAIT A MINUTE… DAMN IT! HOW CAN I APPLY FOR A PhD PROGRAM? I CAN’T EVEN READ THE WORDS I KNOW!” I felt like Brad Pitt in "Burn After Reading": “Osborn Cox…we have your sensitive shit. [Reading] He had a good rap-ort”—“NO YOU MORON! RAPPORT! THE “T” IS SILENT!” Apologies if the reference is not familiar but nevertheless, I think that the “pre-exam breakdowns” mentioned in the last installment have insured. In other news, softball continues and a series of birthdays of friends here in our PCV/Fulbright community have allowed for a series of good times. In my spare time, I am enjoying little joys such as the reemergence of strawberries in the bazaar and the realization of my aspiration that Cornell West and I will one day be good friends. All in all, things are…going.

Gearing up for a busy few months. The thing about getting married during the Peace Corps is that in the place of the standard “romantic” a couple enters into a drab and underwhelming amusement park of multinational bureaucratic paperwork/procedures. While other couples are busy sampling cakes and flipping through travel guides, we are running from one Baku office to another, only to realize that we need to go back to the Notary for yet another translation. To be fair, I have witnessed enough pre-nuptial couples to deduce that wedding planning State-side is rarely a walk in the park. As a result, I am trying to internalize this experience as a sort of equivalent of the more sinister parts of cake sampling that others experience everyday. Of course, the worst possible outcome for our counterparts is that they must settle for a three tier chocolate and live to fight another day. For our part, let’s just say that the potential outcomes of this long and expensive process are a little more grim. We are trying to keep up our good spirits, however, keeping the merriment and cheer going with little romantic gestures like treating ourselves to Indian or Korean food during our paperwork runs in Baku. In any case, it is nice to have a good support network, both at home and here which makes all the difference. We have decided that we will have a religious wedding upon returning to the United States—at which time, I may or may not indulge in a trip to the flower and pastry shop!

You’d think that would be it for news, but think again!...

Work has been keeping me busy as the softball season is about to begin. The Ganja ____ (we have yet to secure an official team name) has been at practice for about a month and our hopes are high. Many are veterans of previous seasons and some are new. All have dived in with great enthusiasm and I am very excited to see what happens—especially because our team boasts four Azerbaijani female players this year! In other news, work at the American Center continues to go well and I am particularly stoked about our new debate club—an idea borrowed from another volunteer in Lankaran. Conversation club continues and I look forward to the summer months when university students come back to the city and/or local students have more time to drop by the library for fun yet to be planned.

In addition to work and engagement business, I have registered to take the GRE yet again this summer. I have never been good with standardized tests and therefore this process is a somewhere around “tooth pull” in terms of pleasantness for me. Sometimes after my little study sessions, I am compelled to walk around the house with a chocolate bar repeating to “I am a fairly intelligent person” in order to resurrect the slain ruins of my self-esteem. Then I call Kathy and her no-nonsense-get-a-grip wit brings me back to reality. I realize that I can’t really complain because at least I am taking this test with English as my first name. Many of my Azerbaijani friends applying for study abroad programs must take the GRE to qualify. I can’t imagine taking this test in any other language besides my first language. While perhaps not textbook therapy/self awareness / meditation, these practices have gotten me through the first few months of testing and on the path to—while not enlightenment—less test anxiety and fewer ridiculous test-related breakdowns.

One of my central goals as a Volunteer has been to develop ways to speak to the Peace Corps’ second goal: “to educate Azerbaijanis about the United States.” This venture has been less to proselytize American righteousness and more to increase understanding of a place whose complexities are so often misunderstood. This past Saturday, we at the Ganja American Center completed what I hope will be the first installment of a series of PCV discussion panels on “the American Experience.” This panel consisted of four Volunteers who represent groups not commonly found in the international media as representative of the American people. In honor of Black History Month, the topic focused on issues of diversity as value embraced by the American people as an important component of democratic society. Overall, the conversation went fairly well and participants were generally well received. We discussed the dangers of stereotyping as well as the importance of diversity for the purposes of supporting free and healthy communities. Questions from the audience seemed to coalesce around issues that have repeatedly come up in my own conversations: those of inter-faith relations—oftentimes predicated on the assumption that all Americans are radical Protestant Christians who bring war wherever they go—and inter-cultural education—that is, “why don’t American people know more about other countries?” While our participants fielded questions with exceptional candor and tact, I couldn’t help but ask myself: “is this really what the rest of the world thinks of us and if so, why?” As many of my readers understand, the greatest challenge I have faced as a Peace Corps Azerbaijan Volunteer has been the widespread misunderstanding of what it means to be an American person. When I was a student, I would always observe that I had never felt my “Asian-Americanness” more pronounced than when I was studying abroad. I feel the same way now simply because I find myself regularly explaining the notion of America as “the world’s melting pot”—something I had once naively thought of as universally understood. In many ways, it is not the fault of those who espouse such statemnts as, “all Americans hate Muslims” and “yes, you say you are from the United States but where are you really from? You must be from China because your eyes are not American.” If we consider the stories that so often permeate the international news such as those of fringe groups wishing to desecrate a particular holy book for purposes of hate antithetical to Christian values or the hitherto homogeneity of those representing the United States within social, political, and cultural circles such questions may find a modicum of discernable context. As with reactions I observed in my time as a student abroad to Americans, the presence of such “facts” regarding the United States should give us cause for pause. How do we present ourselves as a country and a people that such stereotypes prevail even in the face of clear evidence to the contrary?...And what do we plan to do about it? I have been thinking about the proposed budget cuts and the potential elimination of Americorps in order to make way for the preservation of more worthy endeavors not related to what a certain Minnesota Congresswoman regards as the undermining of capitalism. As a former a Americorps VISTA and current Peace Corps Volunteer, I resent the implication. Sure, there are days in which I spend an entire afternoon teaching Scrabble with a group of English language students or coaching softball with local people as the highlight of my work week. One of the bittersweet ironies of my life is the observation that most of my friends at home are heading off to graduate school and making strides in their career while I am teaching yoga at the local orphanage and leading discussions on O. Henry to a literature club at the local library. At the same time, I recently learned from my counterpart at the library that after attending a number of my free conversation clubs, a student has started his own courses saying that, “if Beth can volunteer for us, then why can’t I volunteer for my own community?” One of my colleagues has started a volunteer club in his site that completes community service work free of charge. He says that they are beginning to run the club without him and he couldn’t be happier. After our recent panel to which over 20 students attended, I watched many stay afterwards to ask panel participants further questions in the desire to learn more about America and its people from new American friends who they might not otherwise recognize as such. It is easy to discard the importance of domestic and international Volunteer development programs but I like to think of such projects as investments in the future of an increasingly interdependent global village which is starved for understanding as a path to “salam”—that is, peace.

I have recently returned from Tbilisi with some exciting news: I am now the official owner of a guinea pig by the name of George as befits his birthplace. He was a token of my significant other’s Valentine’s Day affections as well as serving as my proxy engagement ring. Yes, that’s right. On Valentine’s Day outside of the Gori house that produced Joseph Stalin, Oruj presented me with flowers, George, and a sign reading, “will you marry me?” (I said “da” by the way). Here I feel the need to obviate any questions related to our affinity for Stalin: No, I am not in any way sympathetic to the Stalin regime nor am I won-over by the Soviet Union’s history as a whole. While living in a post-Soviet state for the past year and a half has granted me some insight into the more effective aspects of the Soviet Union “in practice” for the purposes of development, I am critical of the human rights abuses, restriction of freedom of the individual, and the philosophy of Joesph Stalin and his predecessors. With that said, let me underline that the logic behind the proposal at the feet of Joesph Stalin’s statue was meant for ironic and humorous effect. As many of those of you who know me understand, I have never had much affinity for the traditional and have recently sought humor as an alternative route. Additionally, the continued illegal diamond trade of “blood diamonds” compels me to reject the notion of an engagement ring here in Azerbaijan. Oruj knows this and therefore came up with the “engagement G.P” and the Stalin-statue scheme. Well played, love. Well played.

Here, I would like to say a few words about the relative pros and cons to guinea pigs and diamonds as expressions of commitment and endearment. As stated earlier, I have reservations regarding the one-sided ring swap as well as the potential human rights issues connected to the sale of diamonds from questionable sources / labor. At the same time, there is something to be said about the implications surrounding your engagement pig running under the bed and refusing to budge, even when you move—if not mountains—multiple mattresses and returning only due to hunger. Additionally, there is the comment that my friend Kathy made: “I hope that the marriage lasts longer than George.” I responded by starting with the fact that Cavies (their traditional name) normally last a long time but then realized that I was speaking relative to other small animals like hamsters, not relative to human relationships. Still, there is something to be said for nurturing a life together as the first major sign of commitment; this is, I believe the main message that an engagement ring is supposed to convey. I have always thought of wedding bands as being the ultimate sign of mutual commitment in the marital sense anyway. They tend to be simple, their significance rendered not through the objects themselves but through that which is conveyed through shared experiences, challenges, and triumphs they witness. Both people wear them while promising to be faithful and compassionate and truthful to the other while building a life together. In any case, if you have seen some of the pet shops in this neck of the woods, you would feel the need to rescue an animal too. Still, I plan to be significantly more careful with George in the future as the puppies in my neighborhood “play” as my friend Peter says, “to win.”

To come back to the main point, Georgia was fantastic. The city of Tbilisi is both welcoming and dynamic. A visitor will find art, places of worship, and architecture that speak to the city’s preservation of its unique cultural heritage. The patron saint of Georgia, St. George, may be found in the center of Old Tbilisi slaying the dragon with his spear. One may walk through the streets and visit the Turkish baths, the mosque, and the synagogue built in 1904 that serve as reminders of the diversity that exists quietly with the Caucuses. And of course, one cannot visit this city without seeing—literally—the famed fortress and large statue of “Mother Georgia” atop one of the many mountains that surround the city. At the same time, I find Tbilisi to be an exciting and multifaceted urban center, full of international activity. We were pleasantly surprised to find, in the middle of busy Rustaveli street, one may find relatively cheap and tasty sandwiches, burgers, and milkshakes at the “Elvis” Restaurant—a tip from RPCV friend, Linda. Additionally, a visit to shops like Prospero’s Books is not to be missed. Walking down the streets made me realize that I am in fact a city person at heart and am anxiously awaiting the time when I might reaquaint myself with my favorite American cities.

All the news for now. Pictures to follow. For now, I will let you use your imaginations in place of the services of internet provided here in Ganja which, like many things, seem to slow with the weather.

As many of you know, this first year and a half has been rife with firsts. Among such experiences are those of being dubbed, “over the hill” and “an old maid” by Peace Corps and local friends, respectfully. Clearly, explanations are necessary: the first title refers to my recent participation in the AZ-7 Peace Corps Volunteer group mid-service conference. The second refers to my status as “evda qalmış”—that is, I have passed my 23rd year of life without getting married…

Kathy, Jackie, and I arrived in Baku for our mid-service conference the day early at the now infamous “four star” Neopol Hotel which welcomed us not long ago as newly arrived trainees. We spent a good portion of our free time getting medical, dental, and language exams done (I am proud to report that I am in possession of a healthy set of teeth and gums according to my friendly local dentist). Other time was spent wandering around parts of downtown Baku, stopping at familiar sites by the sea as well as the newly established Park Boulevard Shopping Center to look at trendy clothes and accessories that seem to be beyond my price range in the United States and Azerbaijan alike. The nice part of mid-service conference was that I was able to connect with Volunteers whom I had not seen since we swore in as PCVs last December. Everyone seemed to be in good spirits, eager to trade stories and exchange ideas about new projects. We participated in a series of break-out sessions that ranged from “the past year” to various peer-led topical trainings. I had the privilege of facilitating the Women and Gender Development session and it was both interesting and exciting to hear from other volunteers about their individual experiences and insights regarding topics related to an issue area of such importance. It definitely recharged my batteries as I reaffirmed my commitment to the work that remains within my own service.

Following mid-service conference, I returned to site with a new sense of focus for my next year. Because I have decided not to pursue an extension of service, I am aware that time is of the essence with regard to the implementation of a few nascent projects. To name a few: Tural, myself and other friends will continue with the Ganja softball program which begins its spring season in early March. Ganja has held a consistent presence in the PCV-initiated softball league and this year we hope to include more young women as well as encourage more Azerbaijani participation in the management and leadership of the team. One of the big questions many PCVs face is that of sustainability: what will happen to this project when I leave? How can we make sure that as many people as possible have the chance to benefit from this program? What if there is not another Volunteer to take the reins on this activity? As it is, we hope that this year will see some of those concerns assuaged—at least with regard to the Ganja softball team!

The second project of interest that I hope to implement relates to one of the Peace Corps goals—that is, “to educate host country nationals about the United States.” To this end, I hope to utilize the best resource that Peace Corps brings to its work: the rich and diverse experiences of Volunteers. A substantial part of my service has come to coalesce around the notion of diversity: religious, ethnic, socio-economic, age and experience, etc. I have had countless conversations about issues of national versus ethnic versus religious and cultural identity. However, the scope of my own experiences and beliefs have limited most of these conversations. Hence, I hope to organize a series of public forums in which Peace Corps Volunteers gather for round table panel discussions on various topics related to the American experience. One of the remarkable aspects of the Peace Corps community is the variety of people who sign up to serve as grassroots diplomats that strive to represent the mosaic that is the American people.

As I enter my second year of service, I am thankful for this opportunity. I have had a series of challenges and don’t doubt that they will halt over the next ten months. At the same time, I have been granted a series of blessings—opportunities to become stronger, work harder, and love deeper. In the end, regardless of impromptu rusty water facials or the seasonal low club numbers, I believe that I am doing what I had hoped for at the end of college: to confront my ideals in a profound way, to serve, and ultimately, to “do something with my privilege” as Winona LaDuke (and my parents) put it.

In upcoming news, I will be embarking on my second trip to Georgia for St. Valentine’s Day. My intention is to spend time enjoying Tbilisi (one of my favorite cities), enjoying the company of three fabulous travel companions, and taking pictures of/inside the “ever-so-romantic” Joseph Stalin-related attractions in nearby Gori. My friend, Tor has suggested that we all don mustaches for the occasion. Must consider further…

As of two days ago, Oruc and I officially made it back to Azerbaijan with many interesting stories and fantastic memories to share with friends and sitemates who are eager to hear about our impressions of America—though, needless to say, most people are far more interested in his thoughts than mine! I am so grateful for everyone who shared their time with us during our short stay. Many PCVs advise against going home during service—many because they believe that they wouldn’t come back if they did go! As with all things Peace Corps, I have found that there is not a single answer. I found my time at home to be refreshing, albeit busy. I was able to catch up with friends and family-an exercise that made me feel as though I wouldn’t be all that far behind everyone else when I got home in terms of news, gossip, and updates. Still, a year is a long time and I must confess that I did feel a bit glum at the prospect of leaving again just when I had begun to feel so at home. Nevertheless, trips to the casino, various restaurants and coffee shops, visiting old stomping grounds, and brought a smile to my face and it certainly was exciting showing them to Oruc on his first trip to the States. At present, I still feel slightly disorientated but am confident that I will get a chance to stretch my legs as the New Year holiday draws to a close.

Despite extended delays in both Moscow and London, we were able to make it back to Ganja to ring in the “Yeni Il” with Peace Corps and Fulbright friends. After chocolate, pickles, and other delectable appetizers, a group of us bundled up and headed to the city center in front of the executive power office in downtown Ganja. As previously noted, because the vast majority of Azerbaijani people confess Islam as their religious heritage, the people of Ganja do not celebrate the Christmas holiday. However, due to the close proximity of Russia and a number of other predominantly Christian countries, the traditions that Americans would probably associate with Christmas can be found alive and well here…in order to greet the new year! Hence, the city center of Ganja had several “New Year’s trees” set out for the occasion with “Şaxta Baba” (Father Frost) and Qar Qız” (Snow Girl) in tow. Like the United States, there are fireworks…Unlike the United States, the party was BYOFH: “bring your own fire hazard.” As the clock struck twelve and everyone around wished each other a happy new year, I was ducking in order to dodge a small explosion whose pyrotechnic wonder had landed just short of my head. In the twinkling of an eye, it seemed as though all the children in the crowd (as well as the adults) had gotten a hold of sparklers, roman candles and exploding earth-bound poppers. This event was certainly not the Epcot Firework Spectacular. Still, all ended well and as we walked back to Tors, observing the gleeful children turning cartwheels in the street, was compelled to give thanks for the blessings that have come to me in 2010 and those which hopefully will come with the next year.

As they say in Azeri, “bayramınız mubarik!” (Happy Holiday!) I hope that everyone had a lovely time ringing in the year 2011. As my friend, Tor says “I believe that this year will be even better than last year because I am going to make sure of it.”

I just sent a beautiful turkey to its death. Guilt issues. -A text from my friend, Tor upon ordering our collective turkey from the bazaar Linda, Tor, and I before the anticipated Turkey-oven separation

Dick, Kathy, Rebecca, and Mark enjoying the meal!

Tor, Carol, Vivian, Kathy, and Rebecca looking fabulous (especially Tor with the "bunny ears" photo move for grown ups)

Well, Thanksgiving has come and gone with much festivity in Azerbaijan though, a more appropriate name for the beloved holiday here would be “ex-pats of all kinds get together and eat.” For me, the holiday was more of an extended weekend of gluttony and idleness. The celebration began on Thursday when many of the Americans in Gəncə (Peace Corps Volunteers, Fulbright scholars / fellows, and family) gathered together for a late afternoon meal, complete with American stuffing, pecan pie, squash, creamed onions, and of course, a beautiful roasted turkey. Of all the things that have happened in my first year of service, one of the things that I am truly grateful for is the blessing of amazing site mates and friends in both of my placements.The Table!

Viv, Tor, Mark, and Dick enjoying "the table"

The meal was full of good moments for pictures like this one with Tural and Viv showing their affection

The evening was full of good conversation, laughter, and loads of food. Having eaten a great deal of turkey and stuffing, Kathy, Linda, Viv, and I were well prepared for the next leg of our Thanksgiving weekend via the Baku night train. Azerbaijani trains are normally divided up into three sections: the general car (which resembles what I imagine the third class of the Titanic to have looked like), the 4 person cars (complete with bunks, bedding, and wash towel), and the “elite” 2 person cars (very much the Soviet version of the train scenes in “White Christmas”—hence, no club car and singing). Having experienced all three of these delightful forms of transportation, I would encourage the Azerbaijan visitor to go with the 4 person or 2 person options—preferably with friends. This Thanksgiving was my first time in the 4 person car with three of my friends. Linda and I proposed some activities for fun but our requests for participation in “truth or dare” and “light as a feather, stiff as a board” were vetoed in favor for sleep as it was 11:00 PM by the time we left. The Christmas Bazaar

One of the things that I have realized about Peace Corps is how small the world actually is. My Thanksgiving host family situation exemplified this truth. A month or so after we swore in as volunteers, Kathy got connected with a Turkish ex-pat named Hande and her family. Hande was an exchange student in the United States 20 years ago and stayed in Buffalo, New York—Kathy’s hometown. She had attended Kathy’s high school 37 years after Kathy had graduated and they were brought together in Azerbaijan through e-mails with a mutual friend. Hande and her family currently live in Baku and this Thanksgiving, I had the opportunity to meet and spend time with them. It was a truly fantastic experience full of good conversation, kindness and relaxation. I had the opportunity to glance into a part of Azerbaijan that I had yet to see: the world of ex-pats. Throughout the weekend we would attend a play at the BP-financed international school, attend a fabulous charity Christmas Bazaar, and meet with individuals with exquisitely interesting stories. The second day, we attended the Thanksgiving Peace Corps get together at the Ambassador’s residence in Baku. Almost all of the volunteers currently serving in Azerbaijan turned up, everyone bringing a side dish of some sort. Needless to say, we had plenty to eat! From the dinner, Kathy and I attended yet another dinner party! I didn’t think that I would have culture shock going back this Christmas but in a 48 hour period, I saw (and tasted) both asparagus and broccoli…All in all, it was a fantastic weekend and lead into my last week at site before my Christmas holiday state-side. For now, I am on “the home stretch”—the part of the tear-down calendar where the cardboard backing becomes visible through the thin number of pages remaining. While I don’t leave Azerbaijan (Insha Allah) until next week, I count my actual Christmas holiday to begin on Saturday due to the occurrence of dinner parties, last minute Christmas shopping and the inevitable jaunt to Baku with my suitcase and the promise of Korean food. Hence, I have 4 more days of “work.” Here we go!...

At this point, I have less than two weeks to go before I am State-side (or at least in the process). Most of us who have finished primary school may recall a feeling of delicious anticipation when the possibility of summer vacation came into view. Some people managed with the classic wall-calendar chart which allowed the prisoner a feeling of exacting a dent in time through a simple rip of the date from the wall. Others like myself, would cope by reminding ourselves and everyone around us of the specific number of days, hours, minutes, and secondsthat stood in the way of liberation and the traditional “end of school McDonalds backyard picnic.” To be fair, I do not think of my current situation as one analogous to prison. I might be inclined to think of house arrest might be more of an appropriate comparison had I not thought it disrespectful of the fantastic political dissident Ayn Sung Su Ki and her recent release from 7.5 years of house arrest in Burma. As it is, dear readers, you can appreciate the fact that I am very anxious to get home for the holidays. Devoid of a wall calendar that I can/would like to mutilate and respectful of the sanity of my lovely site mates, I have thrown myself into the completion of the following goal in order to pass the time more efficiently and (perhaps) more productively:

Those who know me at all are aware of the fact that I am something of a workaholic. I spent a significant number of Friday and Saturday nights in the Rolvaag Memorial Library studying such riveting subjects as the theological and political significance of the Second Vatican Council and (on bleaker days) the correct application of standard deviation principles to get through my one required math course. For as long as I can remember, various people in my life have informed me that I need to “lighten up, have some fun. You work too hard.” This observation seems to have followed me into the Peace Corps and for the first time, I am beginning to feel the specter of burn-out approaching.

Knowing that I have a full year of service left after I return to Azerbaijan, I feel that it is important to devise a plan in order to keep up enthusiasm and work ethic. To this end, I have decided to make something of a commitment to myself: I will read 75 books before I COS (“Close of Service”), or one year—whichever comes first. The purpose of this promise is to require myself to take time to engage in an activity which I enjoy more than any other and one whose product registers only in my own consciousness. Growing up as an only child, my sainted mother responded to my endless complaints of “being bored” by making me “to do lists” that included tasks such as, “read a book” and “play with stuffed animals.”

As a result, I have always enjoyed making lists and perhaps on some level, this course of action will assuage feelings of homesickness that seem to reveal themselves most frequently in the winter months. There is a substantive list of books that I have always wanted to read but surprisingly never found the time to tackle. I may embark on my fourth try to finish Anna Karenina. If I feel self-indulgent and in need of intellectual/ideological self actualization, I may order Jesus the Liberator or some anthology of Charles Dickens’ correspondence from halfpricebooks.com (I wonder if they know where Azerbaijan is). If not and my academic / personal Catholic guilt kicks in, I may go in search of what my ninth grade mind missed when I first attempted to read To Kill A Mockingbird. Perhaps a second shot at American poetry is in order. I have found that many of the books that I have read thus far appear at times in my service when I need their particular voice on some level. This venture, I believe, will be an interesting experiment.

But for now, I will finish my coffee and New Yorker comic section.

Going away party for the AZ6's

23rd year of life in review…

New Favorite Words/Phrases:

•Balqabaq: Azeri for “pumpkin”

•“Liz!...Ay Liz!...Liiiiiiiiiiz!”: The standard pattern used to call me by friends, coworkers, etc.

•Invariably: An adjective Kathy often uses that I find aesthetically pleasing

•“Allah saxlasan”: Azeri phrase used when something good happens that translates to “God stop you!”

•Öp (multiple statements in sequence necessary in order to emulate the song by popular Turkish musical sensation, Tarkan): Azeri and Turkish verb for “kiss”

•Paka: Russian for “good bye”

•Can (pronounced “Jan”): Azeri for “soul” used to call someone dear to your heart

•“Nova Stroyka”: Russian for “new building” referring to unfinished buildings found in cities like Baku and Gəncə. I like it because it sounds like a linguistic cousin of “Perestroika.” Hmmmm…

Mosaics in Yeni Ganja Park

Successes: consumption of kim bhap at fabulous Korean restaurant in Baku’s Gənclik district, transfer of appreciation for down-dog pose and “saluting the sun” to the Gəncə softball team, internalization of skills necessary to manually light Soviet-style water heaters, application of near electric fire survival skills

Failures: 2nd attempt at homemade kim bhap, 1st-4th attempt at homemade curry, any/all attempts to carpet-sweep (yes, this means using a broom to sweep the carpets), production of successful letter compelling Lady GaGa to partner with Tarkan on a song, proper / consistent communication with home via snail mail, essential clothing hand-washing techniques, proper appreciation for potatoes

Unsure progress: 2nd GRE attempt, reading of Əli və Nino in Azerbaijani, successful navigation of curry paste recipe, Azerbaijani dance skills, semi-conclusive post-Peace Corps vocational decision

The "river" and mountains not far from the city

I would like to send very warm thanks to everyone for the cards, emails, and phone calls of good will for my 24th year on earth. This is my second birthday celebrated in Azerbaijan and fitting that it should fall—as it often does in the States—on Azerbaijani election day. Many of my friends here in Ganja were working as election observers and are quite vocal about the importance of voting as a necessary gesture in “expressing my human rights” and “making my voice heard.” Consequently, I learned that in the absence of a desirable candidate by one’s personal / intellectual standards, the practice of “write in votes” is alive and well here too. While there are few tea parties taking place around here, their success in the States compels me to suggest that these illustrious groups widen their gaze in order to spread their republican--that’s “republican” with a small “r”-- zeal in places with a more pressing need for such hospitality and enthusiasm. I should mention that there was very little tea drinking on the occasion of my birthday. Mostly coffee and soda…

The Yeni Ganja park where Tural and I are attempting to build up our latest idea: "The Ganja Women's Running Club"

(So far the only members are us...well, really only me because Tural "is in fact" a man)

On a more picturesque and aesthetically pleasing note, I have included pictures of Gəncə. These are some of my favorite places in the city as well as out in the “New” district that is my home. Gəncə is famous for many things, among which is that was the home of famous poet, Nizami Gəncəvi who wrote several famous epics which are illustrated artistically throughout the city in the medium displayed in the photos though the exact inspiration of these mosaics is yet unknown. Must do homework…

Just your average Ganja street...

As it is, there is less than a month to go before I take a short Christmas holiday trip back to “Amerikastan” for what I imagine will involve a great deal of good cheer, food, and catching up. While I do get Al-Jazeera English in my flat, I sorely miss the intellectual and political commentary of friends, family, and the like on the events of the day. The list of “must do’s” include the following:

•Multiple visits to the lovely Grand Avenue and its many high-fat / carb eateries and coffee shops

•Nachos and Bloody Mary(s) with Mom

•Many in-depth political and social play-by-play conversations with Dad over food and/or drinks

•Late night Wendy $1 Menu/Perkins trips (complete with laughs and ridiculousness) with Lizzie, Nick, Emily, Peter and company

•Self-deprecating graduate school / professional planning sessions with Jason (probably over many coffee, dessert, and dinner sessions)

•Running and pub sessions with Matt (if it is too cold, perhaps only the latter)

•My yearly reading of The Christmas Carol by the artists formally known as Charles Dickens followed by a viewing of the play at the historic Gutherie Theater in Minneapolis (because these are completely distinct experiences!)

•A visit to St. Olaf College, Northfield, Dundas and the beautiful people who reside there (as well as Goodbye Blue Monday’s Coffee Shop)

•Tearful reunion with central heating/insulation, kalonka-less showers, and toilet paper that exists as a social norm rather than an American quirk

•Bad nutritional-choices with regard to food/caffeine consumption at Chino Latino, Dunn Brothers, Khans, and various Korean restaurants

•A meal that includes BBQ sauce (I am noticing a pattern here…must include “working out” to the appendix of this list)

•Distributing hugs, good wishes, and gifts to various family members on the occasion of marriages and / or other life-altering events that I missed over the past year

•The purchase of items I consider essential to my next year of service (e.g. tide soap bars, extra socks, an economy sized jar of peanut butter, dried seaweed, and Caribou’s “Reindeer Blend” coffee)

•All things related to St. Paul, Minnesota and the people in it

Oruc and I being...mature

Attached to all of these activities (and many more adventures) is a large “Insha Allah” due to the fact that, as you may know, I have the directional ability of a 3 week old puppy. This handicap may or may not come up during my attempts to navigate my way through the Moscow and Amsterdam international airports while en route to the land of snow and snowplows. In any case, I plan to keep an open and positive mind in hopes that I internalized some practical life skills over the past year that will help in getting my happy self home.

Fall has come to the city of Gəncə and life could not be sweeter for a Minnesotan who cherishes a good walk with a mug of coffee and a cool breeze. For good or ill however, I have not been able to enjoy as much of my site’s beautiful scenery as I would have liked because of a series of unplanned trips to the capital city. Normally, I am happy to make the six hour bus trek to the land of Korean food and garlic powder. However, 4 trips in 3 weeks is a bit much for even the most resilient travelers. Apart from check ups after softball injuries and various physical ailments evidencing my fragile mortality, I recently traveled to Sumqait to co-facilitate a HUB day session for the new AZ 8 Peace Corps Trainees! During PST, we are barred from unauthorized meetings with the newcomers making this session on “Gender and Peace Corps Azerbaijan” the only time I will get to meet with the 8s until after I return from the USA in January and they are fellow PCVs (“Insha Allahs” all around). The session was very fun to lead though I am not sure how enjoyable listening to me for two hours could have been. In any case, I tried to make the training as helpful and comprehensive as possible, covering the state of gender in Azerbaijan, the gender and PCV / HCN (host country national) communities, and implementing gender development within Peace Corps service. This part of the training was my favorite because it included a presentation of actual Peace Corps Azerbaijan Volunteer projects that addressed issues of gender development directly or within the context of implementation. On a personal level, I got to visit with a few of the 62 trainees (26 men, 36 women) and stayed with my PST host family! All around a good trip… sans the post Sumqait illness.

In other news, the Gəncə softball team ended its short but feisty fall season in Bilasuvar at a four-region tournament funded by the United States Embassy in Azerbaijan. Over the course of two days teams from Bilasuvar, Gəncə, Mingetçavir, and Tovus played a series of enjoyable though competitive games for a trophy that turned out to be a volleyball donated by the Bilasuvar Olympic Complex. This was a big tournament because it was the first time many of our players had been introduced to the concept of a strike zone or the fourth ball walk. Still, all was well and our team finished in good spirits, ranking second to Ming in the championship game. It was sad to see the season end, particularly because by the time it starts again in the spring, AZ 6 sitemate Elmer will have finished his service and will no longer be with us. Still, I am optimistic and eager to track down old Twins games on tape for team bonding nights that will hopefully include female participants beyond myself.

When not on the road to Bilasuvar or Baku, I am settling in my new home quite well. The regular and uninhibited use of a western / flushing toilet, a sovereign kitchen, and a T.V. that gets Al-Jazeera in English give me a happiness not unlike a child around Christmaknwanzakah season. For a while after AZ 5 RPCV Rae and her husband, Fərid departed for parts and adventures unknown, I walked around waiting for someone to come home. I do believe that this was one of the more enjoyable “host family” stays of my Peace Corps service---though Fərid would heckle me more than any other host father about “Azerbaycanli dili danışmalısan!!!” (You must speak in Azerbaijani). Nevertheless it was well deserved as I seem to have become something of a procrastinator. In all seriousness, I am eternally grateful for these two kindred spirits and their kindness, patience, and friendship. The willing of house and situation was just one example of their enormous contribution to my adjustment to this site.

The next month promises to be exciting and happy, containing my second favorite holiday (Thanksgiving, not my birthday). Living in a large site has several benefits, one of which is the promise of many gatherings and opportunities to make merry. In addition, as PCVs, the AZ 7 group is now officially on the invite list for dinner at the Ambassador’s residence. We all know what this means….REAL AMERICAN-STYLE TURKEY! This is at least my impression but who knows?! When registering for host family evening stay, the embassy secretary said, “you aren’t a vegetarian are you?” My response: “Not on Thanksgiving and other major holidays that involve turkey.” Of course, there will be paper turkeys to be made in conversation clubs, Christmas preparations (I am pre-empting given my anticipated absence). Azerbaijani families typically clean their houses and make special plov (rice pilaf with egg and assorted toppings) in preparation for Novrus, the spring fire holiday. When I was studying abroad, I read a bit of A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens every week after Thanksgiving (and then started all over again as it is a relatively short book). I plan to implement the same tradition though I might just read the whole thing on the plane home…

I send all my fond wishes to family and friends and look forward very much to seeing you all in the not too distant future!

I have recently moved into what will ultimately develop into an independent living condition. This change is cause for great rejoicing and merriment as I tend to be something of a novice hermit when it comes to my preferred living conditions. While I think of myself as a fairly ordinary person with few to no quirks that would scare off a potential roommate I do enjoy sleeping, doing yoga, and other daily routines to go unnoticed by anyone not expressly selected by yours truly. Additionally, the opportunity to try my Trader Joe's coffee, sesame seed oil, and curry powder (courtesy of my sainted parents) makes the prospect an independent and vegetarian kitchen something of a dream. One more thing: I am not sure what the world record for moving time is but I should look as this very day, it took three people three minutes to move my things from host family house to car (including walking and packing time). A testament to my superhuman organization and/or physical dexterity? No! In truth, I have not fully unpacked my bags since I came to Ganja. In any case, with all of the craziness of starting new clubs and classes, finding a place to live makes me feel not unlike the individual who came up with the post-it.

One of the challenges of living in Azerbaijan as a twenty-something Peace Corps Volunteer is that instead of feeling like a character on "Friends" one is likely to resemble a member of "The Survivor" crew. However, unlike "the Survivor," I do not wish my fellow volunteers to leave "the island" nor do I secretly wish that they meet their end on the loosing end of a fight with a jellyfish. On the contrary, I am greatly saddened at the prospect of saying "yaxşı yol" (translated as "good road") to a series of AZ 5 and 6 friends over the next few months as they make their way back to America and/or destinations unknown. Perhaps it has been the prospect of such good-byes as well as my new living situation that compel me to consider adopting some parakeets (or "budgies" as the website calls them). I had first run across the birds in a local pet shop not far from the library where I run conversation clubs. Amongst the squabble of 30+ birds per space was a small little green bird laying at the bottom of the cage. He appeared to have a broken leg and was being jostled and troubled by his countrybirds who had little to no compassion for his condition. As it was, I developed something of a solidarity with this invalid, whom I later named George. I pledged to adopt him and nurse him back to health. Unfortunately, the timing was a little off and I had to go to Baku for a training and a series of meetings, thus delaying the exodus. When I returned, it seemed that George had either flown the coop or kicked the proverbial water cup. As it is, I am still trying to decide what to do. The man at the pet shop is prepared to let me buy two birds (apparently they work best in pairs) and keep them at the shop in their own cage until I cleared it with the landlord and made the necessary arrangements. Of course, the inevitable Peace Corps questions looms: healthy and plentiful food and saving money for home OR fun, feathered friends? Additionally, there is the question of sustainability. It is an oddity when a pair of birds from Australia remind you in no uncertain terms of that famous PCV training truth: "you will not actually be here forever. What are you going to do with this project when you are leave?" As it is, the birds are still waiting but I might break down and make the purchase tomorrow. With all of the problems and challenges in this world, I am troubled with the question of whether birds can get passports...

Must run for now. More news to come!

With Peace, love, and warm wishes to all,

Beth

Teach the ignorant as much as you can; society is guilty in not providing universal free education, and it must answer for the night it produces. If the soul is left in darkness, sins will be committed. The guilty one is not he who commits the sin but the one who causes the darkness.

–Victor Hugo in Les Miserables

It is exactly two months until I enter my 24th year of life and three months until I return home for a visit to beautiful “Minn-e-snow-da!”

I have recently returned from a fantastic week at camp up in the mountain village of Hacikənd, about an hour and a half from Gancə. The camp was an educational experience, sponsored by the Democracy Commission and designed to promote leadership and other transferable skills to promising community youth. Located within a hike of the famed Kapez Mountain, the compound consisted of a series of large rooms, a kitchen, bathroom, shower, and living space. In addition, after hopping two fences, one may access a vast series of unadulterated grassy fields, hills, and mountains—a perfect spot for epic games of “Capture the Flag” and “World Cup.” The classes were great and I was able to spend a good amount of time leading discussions on freedom and democracy, stereotypes and discrimination. I also had the good fortune to lead a yoga class, teaching such practices as “greeting the sun” before breakfast. Overall, I had a great time getting to know the students, PV site mates, and enjoying the beautiful scenery. As a result, returning to site was somewhat bittersweet as we seemed to have created something of a haven in the mountains possessing a comfort level that I have never experienced in all my years as a camper and councilor. However, there continues to be work to be done here in Gancə.

I recently lead the first session of my six-week film and discussion group; this term’s topic being “Borders, Discrimination, and Conflict.” The goal of the meetings is to expose and discuss the potential consequences of stereotypes at the communal and individual levels. Due to logistical challenges, we were not able to watch the first film on the list (“Remember the Titans”) but skipped to the second installment: an episode of the famed series “The West Wing” entitled “Isaac and Ishmael.” The episode emerged following the attacks on the Twin Towers and the Pentagon on September 11th, 2001 and attempted to unpack the conflicts and misunderstandings inherent to the average American perspective at the time. The story creates a space in which to discuss issues of terrorism, Islamic extremism, and discrimination against Muslim Americans immediately following the attacks. While the tenability of some of the statements in the episode remain debatable, I find its appeal for pluralism and critical thought with regard to prejudice compelling. Furthermore, its exposure of the misunderstandings and unsophisticated discourse surrounding Islam as a religion and a way of life within the present American vernacular give us room for pause.

As you may know, Azerbaijan is a predominantly Shi’a Muslim country whose history represents a conglomeration of Soviet, Turkish, Persian, and European influences. Hence the recent protests in New York and nonsensical threats by a certain angry man in Florida seem to confirm rather than deny the stereotype that Americans live under the premise “that the rest of the world, if properly packed could fit into the confines of Rino, Nevada” (David Sedaris in Me Talk Pretty One Day). In discussing various statements and acts of discrimination against Muslim and Arab Americans—my personal favorite being a journalist’s policy suggestion that Muslim-Americans should carry I.D. cards—I had little to say in response. In Azerbaijan I am frustrated by what seems to be a series of assumptions and stereotypes ranging from, “you are Chinese. What are you selling?” to “you are American and therefore must be a wealthy Christian missionary here to collect souls.” How do I justifiably reject the premises of such generalizations given recent events? Sometimes I wave my Minnesota flag, informing students that prejudice against certain groups is changing—“look at Minnesota whose fifth district recently sent the first Muslim member of the House of Representatives to Washington…” Of course, this line of argumentation only takes you so far and, considering the number of election cycles in United States history combined with pejorative comments regarding the religious convictions of President Obama and the book of choice for Representative Ellison’s swearing in, one must wonder: are we really as far ahead in our practice of democratic values as we collectively claim? The recent protests in New York appear to be the latest installment in a reality that most Americans are unwilling or unable to admit: prejudice and discrimination continue to color the discourse of what I have repeatedly described to my students as “the racial, religious, and ideological melting pot of the world.”

Before I get off of my passive-aggressive soap box, I would like to make the following appeal: before advocating or protesting a particular normative action regarding a particular group, please ask yourself: how can I justifiably ask the rest of the world to open their minds to an image of Americans and the United States beyond media and hearsay when individuals in the place I call home are not doing likewise?

I am aware of the fact that this is the month of both Eid el-Fitr (known in Azerbaijan as Ramzan Bayram) and the “Days of Awe” for the Jewish people. I wish you and yours a wonderful month. Perhaps I will wander down the bazaar today and seek out apples, honey, and bread. Somehow, I get the feeling it won’t be the same as those on Grand Avenue in St. Paul though…

Hello friends and relations, I have officially been in Ganja for a month and am happy to report that life is slowly but surely beginning to come together. I have had the good fortune of “coming home” to a resilient and supportive group of site mates, colleagues, and kindred spirits. Ultimately if there is one thing that I take away from the Peace Corps it would be that you can almost always start all over again—and surprisingly, it will not kill you. It’s amazing how much can change in the short span of a month. Needless to say that most of my time has been spent learning the places and people that will (Insha Allah) surround me for the next year and a half.—the parks, the businesses, the organizations, the Gaia-friendly restaurant…The benefit of living in one of the large cities is the large number of organizations and projects with which to occupy one’s time. Like Salyan, my primary assignment is at the USA Embassy-sponsored American Center in the local library. However, my first month has actually passed at Soros, an education center that specializes in any number of interesting classes and clubs from cooking to HIV/AIDs awareness to Spanish language to American government and Human Rights. Having substantial experience with Peace Corps, Soros seems to be one of the professional hubs of PCVs in this area. I have had the good fortune of getting to dive right in, starting with a world cultures club on “Islamic and Judaic Traditions,” a Chinese language and culture club, a film and discussion group on “Borders, Discrimination and Conflict” and a FLEX prep course. Also, last winter, my friend Kathy began a knitting group with women working at the local “Children’s Village,” a center that functions as an orphanage as well as a family preservation assistance establishment. Children who live in the village are assigned to “moms” who live in the village’s houses, supervising and taking care of a small cluster. The knitting group began as a way for the “moms” to pass the time while their charges were receiving English language lessons from visiting teachers. The group for the summer and is getting ready to start up again and another prospective project will involve conversation clubs for the kiddies with yours truly while the “moms” begin work with a knitting project that will hopefully go on sale at one of the craft fairs in Baku later this year. In addition, word on the street is that there is interest in yoga….Needless to say that life promises to be wonderfully and fantastically busy as the fall rolls around. In other news, I have just returned from Tbilisi, Georgia and would highly recommend it to anyone interested in a fun, interesting, and beautiful city. Located in what is commonly though of as the “northern caucuses,” The Georgian border is about three hours from my site in Ganja. In all my travels, I have never actually walked across a border—the confirmation that I had entered a place distinct from the one in which I had departed had always been confirmed by the merchandise in the “Duty Free” airport shops, the varying levels of incomprehensiveness characterizing the directions to the exit, and the security guards who would examine my passport and pensively state, “welcome to [insert country name here]. Crossing into Georgia was not so dramatic and, as I walked from one seemingly underage security guard to the next, viewing a seemingly international affinity for Fanta and high top military shoes, I was struck by the practical absurdity of political borders. After wandering the wrong way into a road clearly designated for vehicles rather than people, we managed to find our way onto a marshutka making the thirty minute drive into the capital city. I am sorry to report that I was unable to offer you pictures of this trip as my camera is currently residing with the rest of my belongings in Salyan, waiting for pick-up. I wish I could, however, given the fact that the city itself is really impressive. We stayed in a section of the city called “Old Tbilisi,” not far from the popular Rustavleli Street—also known as the center of action for tourists, art enthusiasts, and those looking for a good ice cream or St. George icon. Many of the streets of Old Tbilisi are cobblestone and, within a mile, one may visit a series of churches, a mosque, and a synagogue. Georgian Christian patriarch shops and cafes dot the streets and statues of various shapes and sizes greet visitors to a city that seems to retain a great deal of its historical and cultural resilience. Unfortunately, there was not as much time for site seeing as we would have liked, given the fact that I was there for a slightly more dismal purpose: to take the GRE. A problem test taker by nature or conditioned habit, I had hoped that the Georgian food, surroundings, and general optimism would assuage my tendency to appear slightly less than incompetent in this capacity…I later comforted myself with the promise that should my future be devoid of graduate school, a job whose form of payment does not include the phrase “living stipend,” or a living situation independent of my parents’ address, I will be able to exist as something of a “travel sage” regaling visitors with tails of Georgian wineries and fig flavored ice cream. I must close for now. My next few weeks will involve participation in a summer leadership camp, a probable series of Baku trips, and the existential crisis of whether to suffer the GRE again or, as Ralph Waldo Emerson advises, “accept the fate that providence has assigned”—also known as pursing my vocation as a freelance ice cream taster.

I saw into my own future, saw that I would become a woman with many stories to tell. But every story would have its price.

-Mian Mian in Candy

Hello friends and family! Yet another month has come and gone, bringing us ever closer to the end of summer and the beginning of a new chapter in the service of a certain Peace Corps Volunteer. I do hope that this post finds you happy and satisfied with life as it is.

As many of you may know, my time in Salyan has come to an end. I will be departing this site in the not-so-distant future for a new placement that is, as of now, unknown. I must confess that this is something of a sad development, given the fact that I adore my students and cherish the bonds that I have formed with people in this community. In addition, the thought of moving all of my worldly possessions across the country (again) in order to start all over again is both daunting and uncertain. However, every letter, every card, and every photograph will be accompanying me to the new site! While the heat and shear amount of work required for this action made this decision a bit onerous, I am trying to look at it as an opportunity for new adventures, friendships and experiences.

Recent events have made me think of a dispatch sent out by our country director in relation to the high number of “E.T.s” (“early termination” in Peace Corps speak). Every month, volunteers in Azerbaijan receive “staff stuff”—a collection of news, updates, and comments from the permanent staff in Baku. One of the recent installments included a request from the country director: to write a letter to a friend who you know is considering E.T.-ing, convincing them to stay. If I am not mistaken, Peace Corps as a whole has a 40% overall ET rate. While I did not feel moved at the time, inspiration has arrived on swift feet. Whether you are a Peace Corps Volunteer, an invitee, or an interested reader looking for deeper insight into the “real” Peace Corps experience—I probably needn’t inform you that there is no holistic thing—I hope that this proves helpful…

Dear friend,

I cannot know all the reasons why you decided to join the Peace Corps, nor all your reasons for wanting to leave. I know that you have probably already had the “this will ultimately be very good for me to survive” conversation followed ineluctably by the “I have made it this far” and “another year and a half isn’t that long” dialogues. I know that the reasons built up in your head for “staying” versus “going” seem to always balance out cleanly to equal a wash—no matter how you weight the factors. Finally I know that the repeated emphasis on mentality and attitude probably yield more guilt and self-doubt than encouragement to make the right decision for you. In any case, I cannot speculate too much about what is going on in your mind. All I can do is share my experiences in the hope of being helpful...

Ever since I can remember, I wanted to be a Peace Corps Volunteer. In my application’s “aspiration statement,” I discussed my desire to have this specific experience shape my life as I wished it to unfold: active, engaged, curious, and open. In addition, I remember what my parents said about my college education: “we will help you but you will go with the knowledge that you have the responsibility to give something back.” In other words, “do something with your privilege.” As a student of politics, I believed that the work of the Peace Corps encapsulated a response to arguments that conflict is the inevitable lot of an interchangeable set of states and that the business of shaping perceptions were a one-way street. I believed it to be the closest things possible to grassroots diplomacy, the practice of increasing understanding and cooperation between the people of different countries in order to obfuscate the historically cited rationales for violent discord.

Almost a year later, I still believe these things, but with the knowledge that while true, these ideas come with their own prices. I can tell you without a doubt that simply existing here has altered more sectors of my person and life than I can count. A few months ago, I wrote a mass email dispatch about the “practice of development” and my belief that one who lives abroad is often markedly distinct from one who travels abroad. Finding the balance between oversimplifying a place, a community, and a people as either “never as good as home” or “always superior to home” is the goal of the development worker. I have encountered joy here in Azerbaijan. I have looked at students and known that on some level, I managed to touch an individual’s life and by extension, that of the community. I am quite certain that if you look into your time here, you can find instances such as this, simple and elegant. On the other hand, I have experienced extreme loneliness, doubt, and sadness. I have felt isolated by the norms of a community that often seems so unfamiliar and isolating. At the same time, I have been made more aware of my own agency, my own capacity for life. I have been compelled to confront my demons, to grapple with the imperatives related to ideals that I so passionately advocated in college, to realize with very humbling certainty that there will never be a reason to be complacent in my own ability. It sounds good now, but, as Aristotle says, “the process is painful.”

I am sure that these thoughts are not new to you, fellow volunteer and it is certainly not my place to patronize you or affect the decision that you ultimately make. Everyone has different reasons for joining the Peace Corps and only the individual knows when experience has satisfied such standards or has rendered them irrelevant. As it is, I have decided to stay, despite all of the challenges because I still believe that I have work to do. I do not find the goals I set forth satisfied, nor do I ultimately believe that they are now immaterial. In any case, this is my experience. As development workers, we are not granted the luxury of hindsight or the comfort of simplicity—it is our job to sort through the complexity. Whatever your decision, I hope that you utilize any experiences you have because regardless of the amount, your time spent is important for you and more people than you will know.

In the past month, the weather has turned from wet to hot. Being from Minnesota, I am used to a humid heat—the kind where warmth hangs in the air like rain. In Salyan, the heat is intense and drying. From noon until the early afternoons, the streets become significantly less crowded, the sun having driven people into their homes for shelter. As a result, most of my clubs have changed to the mornings and I look forward to the alteration in the ebb and flow of my days. As it is, the days are longer and despite the fact that flooding in the south still remains a clear vestige of the not-so-distant past, I have to a admit that a good thunderstorm would be a welcome change. On the upside, I no longer receive lectures regarding the practicality of my Chacos in keeping my feet warm!

This month has and will continue to be a rather eventful one—full of “hello” and “see you soon, Insha Allah.” At the beginning of the month, my good friend, Gale bid Azerbaijan farewell. She will be spending a year in Vienna with her daughter who will be delivering twins later this summer. I did get a chance to spend time with Gale in Baku before her departure which was fabulous in all senses of the word—tea time, Italian food, bookstores, the sea. This week week, Greta my former Globalite traveling buddy and good friend from St. Olaf came to “the land of fire” as a part of her time off from working as an English language teacher in Eastern Jerusalem. In an effort to give a good crash course in “PCV life,” we split our time between my site in picturesque Salyan, a regional southern village, and of course, the capital city of Baku. Between village guesting and World Cup watching as well as visits to historical “must see sites” like the Maiden’s Tower, the time passed quickly, despite the heat. The same week, I said “so long” to one of my site mates who will be heading out on holiday to Turkey.

Finally, at the end of the month, I will say another so long to one of my brilliant, fantastic, and amazing students as she ventures on her own journey to the United States! By that time, I will be saying “hello” to July and my 10th month here in Azerbaijan and my 7th month as a Peace Corps Volunteer. In other news, I found out that three of my students will be representing Salyan at GLOW (Girls Leading Our World)—a state-wide summer camp run by PCVs and host country nationals. Participants, will have the opportunity to meet and interact with young women from other regions, learn various life-skills, and spend time outdoors. As it is, my next few weeks in Salyan will consist of courting the coveted “permission slip signature!” Must go for now but I hope that this summer finds you well and quite happy.

Only 6 months (Insha Allah!).

The adventures continue as spring gradually turns to summer. A little geography for you: Salyan and many of the surrounding villages are located right on the banks of the Kür, a river that originates in Turkey and cuts across the whole of Azerbaijan. My first memory of arriving in Salyan involves the seeing the river and thinking that indeed, I was going home across the Mississippi to St. Paul (this reverie did not last long). I would later find out that flooding in Salyan is an almost an annual occurrence which often involves the complete submersion of whole courtyards and sometimes, the bottom levels of houses. Schools have remained closed due to reduced ability to travel from houses which may or may not have water or electricity access. Whole residential roads are currently underwater and one can observe rocks gingerly placed as walkways to sections of dry street. In a recent conversation with my landlady, she asked me if I missed America and informed me that “you have the same problem in America with flooding—they showed us on the news.”

On the more tasty side of things, I have continued my adventures in the world of culinary arts. Recent discoveries include: toasted garbanzo beans with garlic and cayenne pepper, cinnamon lentils, sweet coconut spiced buckwheat, and oatmeal pancakes. It is still an oddity that spices like paprika, ginger, and saffron are cheap or free here when they are so costly at home. As it is, the more exorbitant expenses are reserved for indulgences like toilet paper, milk, and talking on the phone. It must be mentioned that the last expense listed includes nights and weekends—come to Azerbaijan, Catherine Zeta Jones! The recent roadblock of forgetting my beloved self-annotated cookbook in Baku has produced an unexpected silver lining: I am pleased to report that my recent ad hoc experiment in lentil and vegetable stir fry spaghetti was quite a success! Due to the high number of May birthdays in Salyan, I will be reentering the realm of sweets. My friend Kubra has recently donated a package of the elusive delight that is powdered sugar to my cause. Life is quite good.

When not at the library or participating in various activities around Salyan, I have begun to really learn a new place. For me, this activity is an exercise in patience. I myself do not possess the gift that so many of my international travel counterparts seem to have—that is, to land in an unfamiliar city, town, or country and, almost overnight internalized the geography and good eating spots covering a 5 mile radius. Jumping feet first into the unknown, these remarkable people make connections with little effort and shovel new and unidentified food into their mouths with even greater ease. Let’s put it this way: I was painfully awkward at “networking” in college during Christmas Festival and since graduating, not much has changed. As far as the food issue, I have not had the opportunity to try Xaş (soup featuring the head of a sheep), and we can be fairly certain that my lazy-vegetarian yogi tendencies may stay my culinary feet for a moment or two. While my more cautious and gradual approach to exploratory travel practice is something of a carry-over from my since Global Semester trip a few years ago, the extended amount of time has allowed me to take community learning one step at a time in my own fashion. In the past few months month, I have discovered which stores to frequent for the kind of tandir çorək (flat bread made in large circular stone tandir ovens) that is soft and fluffy in the middle but also dark and crisp on the ends—evidence of the product’s “tandir” authenticity in my mind. I have learned that I will brave the busy and no-“I am still learning this language”-nonsense bazaar for lentils, chives, cilantro, and carrots but not for apples or spinach. I have selected routes to and from home in order to reduce bad karma and maximize “salam qızım!” (“hello my girl!”) exchanges with friendly kindred spirits. A work in progress. I am, I am.

Looking toward, the next two months look bright though busy. Later this week, I will depart for Baku to accompany a student to a ceremony for some young men and women studying in the United State this year (yes, that’s right—she is really going!). It promises to be an excellent day and it will be nice to spend time in what has seemed to become the object of a second homesickness over the past few months. From Baku, I will go north to the city of Ganja to help at the International AIDS Memorial event. I have not done a whole lot of traveling in Azerbaijan and this will be a good opportunity to see what other volunteers are up to and introduce myself to a new city. From Ganja, I will return to Baku for various meetings before heading back to good ‘ol S-Town where I will continue planning this summers’ various activities. In addition to working in Salyan proper, my site mates and I are planning to spend time in a few of the villages surrounding the Salyan Rayon, spreading the joys of “Red Light, Green Light” and volleyball. Additionally, many of my dear and kindred spirits in the United States may soon hear of an opportunity to support youth development and health education in Azerbaijan. A few PCV friends and I are putting the finishing touches on our grant request to fund “The Azerbaijani Yoga and Women’s Health Project,” a set of free retreats set in five regions throughout Azerbaijan that will combine yoga instruction and health education seminars for young women between the ages of 15 and 35 this summer. While we have excellent support from other PCVs and community members, there are still residual costs for educational materials, transportation and food for yours truly, etc. This grant is a PCPP which means that the funds are accrued from supportive community members in the United States. Aware that economic times in the United States are not great, I will make the following request: please give if you have the chance and know that any contribution would be greatly appreciated. More on this if/when we are approved!

Apart from these things, I have some things to look forward to. Firstly, my fantastic and beautiful former “Global” mate, Greta will be visiting me in June which promises to be an excellent opportunity for adventures and laughter. Secondly, I am aiming to go Georgia (the eastern Europe kind, not the Jimmy Carter / peach producer kind) to take the GRE at the end of the summer. One step closer to making some decisions about what I want to be when I grow up. Maybe. That’s what I said about the LSAT so don’t hold your breath…

That’s all for now but I hope that your semester endings, springs, and May are off to a great start and so GREATLY appreciate all of the letters, e-mails, and care packages! Chocolate tastes infinitely better knowing that it is from my grandfather, almonds so much more supportive to my health because my aunt and uncle sent them. Take care and know that I am sending so much love!

Over the past few weeks, I was able to travel to a few of the other regions in Azerbaijan for the purpose of visiting and to make myself useful. One of my friends lives in a village of Yevlak, where she works as a Youth Development Volunteer. As with many YD Volunteers serving in places where English is desired but not practiced, she has adjusted to becoming something of an ad hoc TEFL (Teacher of English as a Foreign Language). About a month ago, she asked me to come and meet her students and help teach a few classes. It was an interesting experience to say the least and if anything, the trip reinforced my confidence in the immense potential resonant in the youth of Azerbaijan as well as the monstrosity of logistical and material challenges separating promise from actualization. My friend teaches a small group of young people four times a week in basic English language conversation and vocabulary skills. While the students are bright and obviously enthusiastic, they conduct classes in a structure with no functioning floor to speak of, complete with renegade nails. After sessions, we would head back to the house to “talk PC shop” and eat some of the tandir bread, compliments of the bakery residing on the ground level of the house. Traveling to see other volunteers is an interesting exercise. In a country the size of Maine, one is surprised by the variety of people, landscapes, and ideas it houses. Yet there is also consistency: the imperative of placing bread and tea on the dinner table, the drive of students, and the general resilience of PCVs. The combination of constants and inconsistencies often blurs the lines between “olar” and “olmaz” (allowed and prohibited) for PCVs seeing to navigate an emotional and social landscape different from their own.

Another interesting piece of news: I am famous amongst the Salyan Regional postal service—and likely at the Baku office as well. Why? I am fairly certain that on a particular April day not-unlike-today, I was the only inhabitant in the state of Azerbaijan to receive a package containing kimchi. For those of you who do not know, kimchi is a traditional Korean food which occupies about as much cultural significance for Koreans as bread does for Azeris. A culinary experience perfected over many, many generations, kimchi exists in over 300 forms, consisting of a strongly fragrant fermented combination of cabbage, onions, peppers, salt, and other spices. Despite the potency inherent to mot varieties, kimchi itself is considered to be one of the healthiest foods available. Anyone who went to college with yours truly know that this sainted food is a staple, getting her and some brave friends through long paper-writing nights senior year. Naturally, I have become quite homesick for it and as a result, my ever-supportive parents decided to send me a box of the red-pickled stuff. Surprisingly, it arrived in Salyan un-confiscated and--given its smell—undisturbed. I was in Baku at the time of the blessed arrival and was excited to get a message from my site mate: “when are you back? Your kimchi is here and the postal workers say that it is stinking up the whole office.” True enough, upon entering, the one room Poçt did in fact carry a smell reminiscent of a Korean grocery store. Nice for me, bad for postal worker who gladly handed over a sack that had apparently been kept outside.

Overall, the combination of experiences visiting other PCVs and administering my own activities has resulted in continued thought concerning the notion of vocation and development on a personal level. As many of you know, I left for Azerbaijan entertaining competing ideas of law school, PhD programs, and, recently, the Foreign Service. The last five months has hailed the advent of yet another unexpected possibility. I am increasingly aware of the fact that while there are many things that I enjoy in the professional capacity—academics, theory, activism, application to name a few—there is one activity which makes me feel fantastically, consistently, deliciously alive. That activity is teaching. I find that I am at my best and most driven when I teach. What? Speech, language, sports, yoga, research, reading, argumentation, the list goes on…Why? I have always been of the opinion that theory and the way that we think is infinitely more than just words absorbed by the walls of a privileged ivory tower. The ideas that reside in our minds shape how we view the world, how we understand our own agency, and inevitably how we act. With any luck, students refine this ability both at home and in school… In my few months at this job, I have been inspired by how education, when met with inquisitiveness and dedication, has given individuals the will to question, to challenge, to demand from the world more than that which has been given them. In A Tree Grows in Brooklyn Betty Smith writes of her main character’s first profound experience with education as a means toward efficacy: “school opened up new worlds for her that took her beyond the one she was born into and showed her that these worlds were not inaccessible.” In any case, still debating but I figure that I have a while to weight all of the options as well as my capacity for chalkboards over seminar power points or the Foreign Service exam…

This has been the substance of life and its persistent questions these days. In a few weeks I will head off for Baku for Early Service in-service training with the other AZ 7 Youth Development and Community Development volunteers which should be a healthy break. I hope that everyone at home is healthy, happy, and full of good spring cheer. I hope that your own burdens are not too difficult to bear and that you find time to enjoy the pleasure of each other’s company.

Peace, Love, and all that good stuff,

Beth

P.S. Pictures to come...

We have entered the holiday season here in Azerbaijan. Walking down the streets of Salyan, the signs of the season are everywhere. Families are putting together Xonça (a platter containing sweets and flora and an absolute “must” for the season), houses are being cleared in the pre-holiday cleaning, and the smell of cooking baklava hang heavily in the air. For Azerbaijani culture, Novrus signals the coming of spring, a new year, and new opportunities. Derived from the Persian-born Zoroastrian tradition, the Novrus holiday commemorates nature via the elements of air, earth, fire and water. Four weeks before the actual festival (March 21-22), families will cook specific foods and begin preparing. Every Tuesday for the past month has included a “bayramınız mübarək” (happy holiday!) from my friends and coworkers as each passing Tuesday signals one less week to the festivities. This week, however, the wait is over. Businesses are closing, family members in “the Baku” return home to jump over the traditional bonfire and share gifts. It has been my experience that holidays tend to bring out the best and worst in people the world over. Whether Azerbaijan or India, Baku or St. Paul, it seems that anticipation of large family gatherings and the complimentary amount of food/decoration preparation required represents an annual test of character as daunting as it is exciting. The fruits are apparent and generally quite tasty. Here, it seems important to inform you that over the course of this Novrus season, I have fallen in love. It has been interesting and has really challenged all that I thought I knew about this particular topic.

Mom and Dad, I would like you to meet Azeri baklava.

To those at home who claim to like baklava: you ain’t seen nothing until you try Azeri baklava which has the added bonus of symbolizing the moon on the Novrus Xonça. While many countries do champion this particular sweet, I do believe that I have come to the end of the proverbial rainbow. Azeri baklava tends to be softer in texture and fuller in taste than its European cousins; the added oil and honey demanding that the sampler stop and enjoy rather than hastily crunching through so as not to spill on our holiday sweaters. I have recently watched the film “Julie and Julia” in which Amy Adams’ character states that, “the day that a meteor is heading toward the earth and we have thirty days to live, I am going to spend it eating butter.” For my money, I would like to replace “butter” with…well, you know. This sentiment may change after the holiday as I am likely to eat many pieces of baklava but I don’t think so—I believe that the phrase goes, “for better or worse.”

In other news, I have officially moved to a lovely house in Salyan, equipped with privacy and a family that gives me the space that I need. With the Novrus holiday upon us, I find myself without library clubs and when not guesting and planning for new post-holiday sessions, I have spent a good amount of time exploring the bazaar and surrounding shopping areas of Salyan. Many of those who have talked to me via letters, email, Skype, etc. know that the Azerbaijan Peace Corps Volunteer is likely to learn at least one thing everyday if she keeps her eyes and ears open. Such lessons do not announce themselves with great pretense or fanfare and are often confined to the realm of daily living—the place that writer Flannery O’Conner describes as extending “from the kitchen to the chicken coop.” As it is, my “lessons” have included such revelations as the exponential improvement of oatmeal after placing apple slices dipped in a cinnamon and sugar mixture.

In the world of the “American Corner,” my counterpart and I will, in addition to our other clubs, begin three new projects. These include a gentle hatha yoga class and a “Spring Club,” focusing on different holidays celebrated in America during the coming months. It was Sevda’s idea and she is really taking the lead on getting it off the ground; a good thing because a great deal of her vision involves the instruction and production of arts and crafts.

However, of all my impending clubs, Chinese Language (Mandarin) and Culture Club is the one about which I am most excited. As many of you know, since being in Azerbaijan, a particular phenomenon has remained constant in my social interactions—that is, the question: “sən nə satlrsan?” (“what are you selling?”). No, I am not attempting to start a sidewalk lemonade stall or provide psychological consultations reminiscent of a certain Peanuts Gang character. Azerbaijan is residence to a burgeoning population of individuals from the People’s Republic of China—some have come to work as laborers in the country’s developing oil industry but most maintain a living by traveling around the regions selling items like backpacks and nick-knacks. Perhaps as a result of these images and those imported through dramas/kung-fu films, it has been my experience that there is relatively little communal understanding of Azerbaijan’s Chinese population and, by extension, ethnically eastern Asian individuals generally. Things tend to become more complicated when a Korean-American adoptee attempts to bridge the disconnect that seems to separate her outward ethnicity and stated nationality—hence the seemingly daily questions regarding the price of things assumed to be my “merchandise” (most often my laptop case or groceries). One may ask, “why then, is this girl starting a Chinese club when she spends most of her day trying to convince people that she is in fact American and not Chinese?” I have come to the conclusion that I have two potential courses of action: A). Get wrapped up in a self-righteous and oblivious angst, rejecting not the homogenizing stereotype of Asian purse-sellers but only my place in that category. B). Use the knowledge courtesy of the St. Olaf College language requirements and Asian Studies Department in an attempt to increase understanding—and hence, humanization—of a group that actually does exist in this community. At the end of the day, I have my American passport, the protection of a kind and dedicated Peace Corps staff, and the ability to leave Azerbaijan if I see fit. Some individuals do not have these privileges but I suspect that they have just as much of a desire to be understood rather than compartmentalized by those who do not share their experiences—it has been my experience that most people do.

The next month will involve a Easter Mass in Baku, a continuation of my odyssey in pursuit of the city’s famed—though hitherto undiscovered—Korean restaurant, and a trip northwest for further adventures. I hope that all is well in your lives as you soldier into springtime!

Photos to come!

Another month has passed and with it, a Korean-American political scientist, Liberationist, wanderer turned PCV finds herself in Spring and Salyan, Azerbaijan. In many ways, my life continues on in all of its zest, challenge, and unpredictability. Six days of the week are spent at the library, planning for four conversation clubs, one yoga club, and various tutoring sessions. Per a certain Peace Corps Volunteer’s suggestion, I have limited my “sessions” to six weeks, meaning that my first set of clubs are about to be over. Most of them will start up again with some new focuses. At this point, each club has its own character, tailored (in theory) to the interests and skills of the individuals who attend. For example, my intermediate conversation club possesses a strong interest in communication through writing and, increasingly, the internet. Hence, many of the students complete journals in which they write weekly about a topic of their choosing with the understanding that the contents are private and they will receive a response from “yours truly.” In the same vein, I think that the next session will focus on articulating such narratives, ideas, and thoughts conveyed through the written words through various electronic media. Other goals for the next few months include the organization of an additional yoga class and perhaps some activities for young women at the local Olympic Complex.

When not at work, I spend time writing letters and e-mails, listening to music, fantasizing about PhD programs, enjoying the company of various kindred spirits, and reading books. For anyone planning to spend significant amounts of time abroad, all I can say is that I loved reading before I left the United States on St. Olaf College’s “Global Semester” with copies of A Tale of Two Cities, The Conscience of a Liberal, The Last Temptation of Christ, and Harry Potter and the Deathly Hollows (hard cover edition). I returned with these volumes, another copy of David Copperfield, and a solid appreciation of Victor Hugo’s statement that, “books are cold but constant friends.” After half a year of making “menim evim” (my house) in Azerbaijan, this appreciation has escalated into full-throated adherence. Currently on the docket is Les Miserables compliments of my dear parents. Afterwards? Who can say?!

In other news, the Shirvan-Salyan afternoon foodies have completed a third, delicious meeting, dining this past Sunday on fettuccine Alfredo, spring salad with Chinese vinaigrette, garlic bread, and chocolate “cockeyed cake” with fudge frosting made by yours truly! It was a lovely gathering as always, filled with updates, laughter, and dear kindred spirits. Next month’s theme: “Asian food.” Yes, I plan on concocting culturally and historically accurate cuisine from Korea, India, Afghanistan, Iran, Israel, Thailand, and even certain parts of Russia…on the same plate. Kidding. Despite rumors of a Korean grocery store hidden somewhere in the streets of Baku, I have little hope in my logistical or culinary capacities to construct much beyond a historically inaccurate and Americanized version of fried rice (not my favorite) or stir fry (also not my favorite). Maybe if I am feeling ambitious, I will attempt mandu (Korean dumplings). However, given the absence of sesame seed oil and related ingredients in Salyan, these may be rather impossible. Time will tell. So profound have been my cravings for kimchi, dolsot bim bi-bhap, and the like that I have strongly considered risking life and limb in creating home-style-Azerbaijani kimchi. As it is, I decided the most prudent route to take is to await the revelation of Korean groceries in all of their fragrant brilliance.

In lieu of my recent six-month anniversary with this “land of fire” I have provided a (relatively) abbreviated list of highlights in honor of the event:

Things that I have learned:

• my dear friend, Peter was right: “to bake is a science, to cook is an art.” One of the most marked breakthroughs this weekend consisted of actually internalizing the fact that I could alter various recipes in cookbooks according to my own tastes. Yesterday I made “Lankeran Asian Vegetables”--only I added cilantro to mixture which, I am convinced made the dish fantastic! Also, I spent any number of years not trying to cook things because I thought that I would just mess it up. However, at one point, I decided to just “go for it.” I found out that I do, in fact have the capacity to make a meal. I told my mother that I was “becoming domesticated” and her response was, “good.”

• I generally prefer Azerbaijani cake to American cake—if for no other reason than Azerbaijani cake tends to be a work of relative aesthetic genius. Additionally I am increasingly appreciative of what seems to be a collectively-determined fidelity to the consumption of eggplant, nuts, bread, and fruit preserves!

• Back to the Future is even more profound and entertaining when dubbed in Russian.

• Human beings really can adjust to a wide range of circumstances utterly removed from what they once thought possible. What's more, they have the capacity to find joy in the process of change and difference. With that said, I have found that the line between adjusting to cultural and social norms for the purposes of service must be balanced with a cognizance of one's ideals, principles, and standards of treatment. Swaying to the extreme on either side of the spectrum is both dangerous and easy if one is not vigilant. What’s more, I get the feeling that learning to correctly identify, articulate, and act on this balance is a dynamic “work in progress” that is never completely done if done correctly. More on this subject in the future, I have no doubt.

The things that I suspect are hiding amidst the “amber waves of grain” as they certainly do not take residence here:

• Any food containing sesame seed oil, peanut putter, pumpkin, or kimchi

• Pie

• Driers

• The Twin Cities in all their theatric, musical, and cinematic fancy

• Running opportunities by the Mississippi River

• Time spent with my dear, dear, dear family and friends

My aspirations for the next six months in Azerbaijan:

• To be a good cook and come up with and create one good Azerbaijani-American fusion meal

• To be a self-sustaining individual

• To read a book in Azerbaijani

I want to first and foremost, thank everyone for all of their letters, emails, packages, and good karma. I hope that your work and/or academic activities, families, and lives “in general” are quite happy and satisfying. As we head into March and the spring months, I am preparing to move into my own house or apartment (Insha Allah), thinking about what I want to do “when I grow up” (foreign service, academics, etc.), and planning various activities that will likely take me to other, new parts of the country. I am increasingly both excited and galvanized about all the possibilities such that Leslie occasionally has to remind me that I need to “slow down and realize that it is a marathon not a sprint.” Good advice, difficult to follow.

My work as a Youth Development Volunteer continues to include English conversation clubs, yoga lessons, film discussion group. As I enter into my next month of service, life continues forward “much as it has this very day.” My time at site are filled with everyday successes, failures, and experiences of growth, combining to create a mosaic of ideas and hopes.eech club, and individual tutoring sessions. Apart from my organizational work, I am continuing to learn a new community, busy with the everyday ebb and flow of life. The running joke is that PCVs are always working because most activities from mailing a letter to buying bread takes two or three times the amount of time and energy it would take in the United States to complete.

Reflecting on my progress at work, my approaches to solving challenges, and the reasons for successes, I am increasingly aware of the truth underlying my prediction that the substantive growth occurring throughout my time in Azerbaijan will be predicated on the brilliance of those around me. It is my opinion that unlike programs like Teach For America, Peace Corps allows for exposure to a multiplicity of people, not only within the community in which volunteers serve, but also in relation to the PCV community itself. Teach for America is specifically designed for people of my experience and background—that is, recent college graduates. As a result, no matter how varied the religious, ethnic, and cultural background of those accepted to such programs is, there are guaranteed commonalities. What I have really come to appreciated in the past few weeks has been the multiplicity of experience, background, and present that every volunteer brings to the table. As a result, I am being schooled in working, connecting, and communicating with people of all ages, interests, and circumstances. More than any other organization operating under the authority of the United States abroad, I do believe that Peace Corps is one of the most representative of the fabric of the American community. As many of you are already aware, I attribute a great deal of my intellectual, emotional, and professional progress made thus far to a select group of women that have become inextricably tied to how I understand my Peace Corps experience. They have graciously given me their experiences, thoughts, humor and wisdom. In Azerbaijan we have a term: hanam. Generally, it refers to a respectable women who has a presence in her community and really influences the ebb and flow of days. These are my hanams: Gale, Kathy, Catherine, and Leslie. I have decided to dedicate the majority of this entry to your meeting of the group that have affectionately been dubbed, my “mothers in Azerbaijan.”

The beginning of my month involved a fantastic journey to the capital city of Baku. There, I was able to spend time with my good friend, Kathy. Having lived in Connecticut before entering the Peace Corps, Kathy is a no non-sense woman with a clear aversion to bullshit. She tells incredible stories about her experiences as a student, daughter, sister, mother, and friend. Throughout training I spent time at her host family’s house, watching silly movies and eating inordinate amounts of chocolate. Of my many fond memories with Kathy, our time together in Baku this January is among my favorites. While trying to purchase her train ticket in order to return to her site, she boldly stepped forward, refusing to be foiled by the absence of order inherent to the use of lines/cues here. She held her ground and spoke with respectful self-confidence. When asked if she needed help getting from one place to another by the train after a day in the city, she took ownership over her own agency, assuring us that she would be able to find her own way with a few simple directions. Never having been someone with a strong sense of direction or resolve in learning new places, I was, as I normally am in her presence, quite inspired--though not enough to travel the metro unaccompanied just yet! Kathy has an acute understanding of people and situations, her responses to which are always articulated with honesty and candor. Complimenting her outward self-assurance is a willingness to consider, question, and learn new things. Her opinions are grounded in carefully experiences, demonstrating the balance between thoughts and concrete encounters that many of us strive for but rarely achieve.

Following my return from Baku, one of the highlights of this month were a series of visits from various Peace Corps Volunteer friends of which Gale was one. Staying in Salyan for a few days, Gale divided her time between movies, relaxation, and catching up with us “S-town” residents. As my roommate during the first few days in Azerbaijan, I quickly realized that she would be an important presence in my life here. Standing at about 5’2, she is free-spirited, intensely intelligent, and processes a unique zeal for life so often ignored in people who have achieved her level of accomplishment. One of the clearest images of my first week in Azerbaijan involved the two of us in the orientation hotel room, kicking up our feet after a long day of sessions to share a bit of tea and chatting about everything under the sun. A proud San Francisco native, Gale has traveled extensively, regaling me with fantastic stories of her adventures in Egypt, Morocco, London, and Italy over our regular PST lunch dates. It would be under her watchful gaze that I would have my first Tarot card reading inside a small Sumqait eatery--yes, Peace Corps is full of firsts! In between raising two children and joining the Peace Corps, Gale worked for over thirty years as a history teacher. However, as she has stated during her weekend trip to Salyan, she is still not finished as she is currently working as a university teacher trainer through the Azerbaijan TEFL program. I distinctly remember thinking, as we walked along the beach of the Caspian Sea, that if I can cultivate half of the gratuitous love of life as that which lives in this woman, I will live a very satisfying life.

When one meets Catherine, a self-described “nomad” from Arizona, she or he will likely experience an immediate feeling of calm and acceptance. Like Kathy and myself, Catherine is a “YD” volunteer, assigned to working with Azerbaijani youth on developing life skills in areas like communication, conflict resolution, and health. I really don’t think that there is anyone more suited for this job than Catherine in the entire program because she carries with her one of the most intensely dedicated and compassionate souls imaginable. One of my favorite stories about this particular volunteer involved an assignment YD trainees received during PST, requiring us to provide an “assessment map” of our community—identifying the resources that exist for volunteers, community projects imitators, etc. The story goes that unlike other volunteers who shyly took their time, waiting for their LCF or linguistically advanced cluster mate to take action, Catherine simply walked right into the local art school, extended her right hand to make the introduction. The result was an immediate community connection and a tour of the art in the school! This statement encapsulates one of the most distinguishing aspects distinguishing Catherine as a kindred spirit: a fierce unwillingness to take herself too seriously to the end of connecting with people where they are at. During the particularly difficult parts of PST and following our swearing in as PCV’s Catherine has called and texted me on multiple occasions for no other reason than to check on my day. Her disarming kindheartedness and warmth garners her friends and allies wherever she goes. Like Kathy and myself, Catherine will be traveling to Baku to attend the interest meeting concerning participating in this year’s Girls Leading Our World (GLOW) nation-wide summer camp—it will be wonderful to talk, catch up, and laugh as we have so often since meeting five months ago.

One of the biggest challenges for many people first entering site is adjustments to host families, organizations, and community. My site in the southern region of Salyan currently has two volunteers: myself and an AZ-6 TEFL by the name of Leslie. I also have a rayon (region)-mate from the AZ-7 group who lives in one of the local villages, an hour’s drive from my doorstep but in the city of Salyan, Leslie is currently the other American. Upon returning from her PST site visit to the then-unknown city of Salyan in October, Gale told me that her host PCV was both one of the most well-adjusted volunteers that you could expect to meet. After two months at site, I can tell you that she was completely right. From my first week in Salyan, Leslie has, on countless occasions provided me with the logistical, professional, and emotional support that I have needed to adjust and develop as a PCV in this community. True to her Texas roots, she has demonstrated genuine warmth and hospitality, opening up her home to myself and other newcomers to the Peace Corps lifestyle. Like Kathy and Gale, she has the uncanny ability to discern “the root of the problem” as well as its practical solution—she calls it her “motherly side coming out” while I call it, “my saving grace.” In the times when I have scheduled too many activities that rendered my schedule closed to proper amounts of sleep or free time, it has been Leslie who has reminded me that Peace Corps service is “a marathon, not a sprint.” When the AZ-7s were struggling with homesickness with the approach of the holiday season, it was Leslie and Linda (another AZ-6 volunteer) who organized a place for us to get together. Apart from these things, her humor, kindness, and genuine care have meant so much and I can only hope that I will be able to provide the same kind of support and friendship to any AZ-8 who comes to this community.

Of all the things learned from the other volunteers I have met thus far, the common one is that there really is no singularly “correct” manner of living life. I really have been lucky enough to interact with a multiplicity of individuals—mostly older women who have demonstrated the variety with which one may live one’s life. Gale has taught me openness and adventure—her stories of career, of adventure, and of having children have disturbed my conception that the three are collectively exclusive in the possibility of their actualization. Kathy has taught me honesty and self-confidence by example of her interactions, her stories, and her advice. Catherine has taught me open-hearted compassion. Leslie has taught me laughter and the art of balancing practical reality with advocating for one’s own needs as well as the art of communication. In addition, there are women and men throughout Azerbaijan with whom I have had the privilege of working who have and continue to inspire me on a daily basis, to give the best of myself and to keep my mind wide open. As I look toward the next month, I see GLOW and Writing Olympics meetings in Baku, “south-west rayon PCV pasta day,” and clubs/activities. However, I also come to the continually grounding realization that I am a very, very, very blessed person. Also, I hope that you appreciate the pictures from "soup and sandwich day" in which we demonstrate, for your cross-cultural awareness, PCV pictures "American-style" and "Azerbaijani-style." I will let you figure out which one is which.

Peace and Love.

İt is difficult to believe that it has been a month since İ arrived here in Salyan with my two bags and loads of uncertainty (I still am in possession of both, in case you were wondering). So much has happened and yet, I am quite aware that there is much to do, learn, and explore.

In recent developments, I split my holidays between Salyan and Baku. Christmas was spent with my host family for which they served a delicious combination of soup, chicken, fish, bread, and my favorite, compot (fruit punch). Of course there were toasts and candy afterwards. The next day, a small group of southern "finger" (region) Peace Corps Volunteers got together for a potluck party of sorts. While I had to slip out early for yoga and conversation clubs (a PCV's work is never done!) I returned to a fantastic spread of salsa, blackeyed peas, roasted chicken, salad, cornbread, and more sweets than could feed a small army. Perhaps the best part of this gathering, however, was the good company which made me forget at least for a moment, the sadness of missing festivities at home.

I had the chance to spend Yeni Il (New Years) in the capital city of Baku, the travel to which was an experience in and of itself. Typically, Azerbaijanis observe the traditions associated with the Christian holiday of Christmas. Hence, family members will return to their hometown, homes will be decorated with New Year trees (complete with ornaments), and children will have time from school to wait with trepidation for the coming of Şaxta Baba or Father Frost. After two hours and two avtobuses, I found myself at the Peace Corps Office. After a short meeting, it was time to see the city. The city was decorated beautifully, full of lights and signs of holiday cheer. Free time during this mini-holiday break was spent drinking non-instant coffee, wandering the city, visiting with good people, and experiencing the Azerbaijani McDonalds--something that deserves an entry in and of itself. I have been to many McDonalds places in my travels but, like the Pizza Hut in Hong Kong which demonstrated the dynamism of cultural exchange by sporting white linen table cloths and reservation lists, Baku Azerbaijan turned all of my assumptions on their heads. To demonstrate, as you walk in the door, you will notice that there is little observance of a "line" or "que." Instead, certain people are compelled to swallow their midwestern passivity and jump in to the mix--it is every burger seeker for herself! After giving your order, you approach the counter to pay, observing that the workers seem to have collectively consented to fully and literally internalize the notion of "fast food," literally running from point A to point B in their attempt to serve food as quickly as possible. And yet, everyone is smiling, eiether from enjoyment or exaustion.

After a few wonderful days spent in in Baku, I returned to Salyan to continue work at the library. My clubs are continuing, the attendence of which I hope will increase as the holidays have concluded. I am currently conducting three conversation clubs for English language learners, speach club, film club, and yoga lessons! In the next month, I will be working with other volunteers to plan the annual "Writing Olympics," a transnational creative essay contest for students in Georgia, Armenia, Azerbaijan, and this year, Moldova. I am greatly excited to connect with other volunteers and to do some country-wide work. However, combined with clubs, language study, and ad-hoc "go fish" sessions with my host niece, sleep may become a rather rare commodity.

In any case, must close for now but expect more regular entries in the future. My computer is currently out of commissison due to losing a battle with a mouse or some related creature. However, I do have fairly regular internet at work. Thank you so much for your continued support via emails, letters, and cards. I am missing everyone very much but am excited for the New Year and all of its blessings, both in my life and those of people I love.

The principle of justice to all peoples and nationalities, and their right to live on equal terms of liberty and safety with one another whether they be strong or weak…unless this principle be made its foundation, no part of the structure of international justice can stand. The moral climax of this, the culminating and final war for human liberty has come and the American people are ready to put their own strength, their own highest purpose, their own integrity and devotion to the test.

-President Woodrow Wilson

Herein lies my first entry as a United States Peace Corps Volunteer. This past week, I, along with over 60 fellow trainees, joined Donald Lu, acting Ambassador to Azerbaijan, at our swearing in ceremony in the fair city of Sumqait. There were speeches by various members of the local government as well as members of our AZ-7 group. Perhaps the most significant moment of the ceremony for me, involved a speech by one of my fellow Volunteers. Born in the South of Sudan, this young man shared the story of his journey from Sudan, Kenya, and Ethiopia to becoming a United States citizen and PCV. At one point, he made the pointed remark that, “no matter what we look like, Chinese, African, Hispanic, we are all part of the United States—I am an American.” Looking around, one could truly appreciate the poignancy of this statement. I realized then, that unique to Peace Corps as a government-run international development agency is its existence as a point of convergence for the diversity that exists in the United States. Sitting in Sumqait were people of different ethnicities, religious confessions, socio-economic and academic backgrounds, and ages. We hail from different states, politically and socially representing the multiplicity inherent to what Abdolkarim Soroush refers to as a “marketplace of ideas” that we call our country. Herein lies, I think, the brilliance of Peace Corps itself: the notion that by coming together in our individuality, we are able to educate both others and ourselves. Afterwards, we took the oath uttered by all public servants from Americorps Volunteers to Presidents. Following the ceremony which apparently made it onto the national news channel, we had a chance to celebrate with our teachers, host families, and fellow volunteers at a reception in the main hall, knowing that the next day, our “real” work would begin.

The very next day, I packed up my remaining possessions into two bags made heavier by the jars of preserves and jam from my host family and made my way down the five floors to a taxi that would take myself and one of my sitemates to our new home. When Peace Corps informed me that I would be traveling to “the south” of the country, I immediately conjured up images of constant sunshine and unbearable heat. I had forgotten, however, that Azerbaijan is about the size of the state of Maine and therefore, not as varied in weather conditions as one naïve American should have expected. After about two hours, our taxi pulled into a small city whose landscape reminded me much more of my home state of Minnesota than anything else. Somehow, the existence of a large river as well as trees and diverse plants provided a modicum of comfort in a time of intense nervousness. After arriving at the bus station, I met up with two of my future coworkers who escorted me and my nerves to what will be my place of residence for at least the next four months. In the way of family and living situation, I really had no reason to be nervous—my host family appears to be warm and caring. After a few cups of tea, my coworkers departed for home and I dedicated myself to unpacking my bags (again). My first day in Salyan involved a trip to my host organization and a full round of introductions to neighbors, family members, and family friends. The American Corner is fantastic—consisting of a room equipped with computers, reference books in both English and Azerbaijani, as well as a heater. I was particularly excited that the brilliance of Roald Dahl and L.M. Montgomory has made it all the way to Azerbaijan as both The Boy and Anne of Green Gables are represented in the “children’s literature” collection. My counterpart is keen on starting any number of clubs for local youth that include but are not limited to English conversation club, debate team, and arts and crafts. Additionally, some of the frequenters have expressed interest in yoga and sports clubs for women. In short, there is a lot of potential for work and I only hope that I can do well with it.

In other news, I have officially begun my correspondence with World Wise Schools, a pen pal program that connects Peace Corps Volunteers with public school students in the United States. I will send my first official “letter from the field” to a fifth grade classroom in rural Pennsylvania and couldn’t be more excited. When not scouting potential volunteer opportunities, I will continue to study Azerbaijani language and have recently reopened my Chinese language studies again. Additionally, I am desperately working on keeping up with all of my dear family, friends, and colleagues from home. Once again, you cannot imagine how much your emails mean to a certain PCV for whom uncertainty and confusion seem to have become a daily installment. So thank you. Also, the new address is in—for security purposes, please contact my parents or email me if you happen to want to send letters, post cards, unwanted books and New Yorkers, etc. (no pressure). As it is, I am wishing everyone reading the very best of holiday seasons.

It is crazy to think that I have less than two weeks remaining as a Peace Corps "trainee." In some ways, I feel that the time has passed at an incredibly quick pace--I have been here in "the 'baijan" for two whole months already! At the same time, I can hardly believe that so much has taken place in such a small amount of time.

In regaling recent events, my cluster mate, Rikki and I are continuing our English conversation club, recently completing our fourth session. We have about twenty regular attendees, ranging from ten to fifteen years old. Because our function as conversation club leaders is to facilitate application opportunities rather than systematic language class, we focus the majority of our efforts toward the development of communication skills, emphasizing interpersonal as well as linguistic growth. To this end, the “the question ball” has become a favorite, consisting of a soccer ball covered with masking tape inquiries such as “how are you today?” and “what is your favorite season?” While such props undoubtedly garner several confused looks on the bus, the enjoyment garnered is well worth any awkwardness. Other activities of choice involve hangman, pictionary, and small group chats. Indeed, as we begin to think about picking up once again for places unknown, it occurs to me that many of my reflections on this conversation club bear striking resemblances to my impressions following my terms of service as an Americorps VISTA. After working in the Twin Cities schools as a tutor, community development volunteer, and mentor, I was cognizant of the fact that the very concrete and individual experiences of that time would continue to shape my understanding of public education, classism, and race relations in the United States. I could no longer rely on the sterile quantitative space of reports or theoretical models. Instead, I was compelled to measure questions of funding and immigration policy in relation to the interests of real people, specific students, various situations. I have long been an advocate of finding ways to bridge the gap between the “world of theory and ideas” with the “world as it is”—the opportunity for which represents what I think is a significant benefit of the Peace Corps. As it is, my conception of issues facing Internally Displaced Peoples can no longer exist as a solely theoretical question mark—rather, it is a continually developing perspective manifested through the reality of individual lives like those of the incredible students with whom I have had the privilege of walking for a while.

In other news, I recently had the opportunity to meet with my the individual who will be working with me as a counterpart after my arrival in Salyan. As I have mentioned, my host organization is called the “American Corner” and from everything I am told, it is a pretty awesome set-up—particularly because they have experience with YD Volunteers, leading me to the realization that I will likely not be confronted with the standard challenge of being mistaken for an English teacher. My counterpart has worked for this organization for a number of years and appears enthusiastic, supportive, and kind. Throughout the luncheon, we talked about Salyan, the American corner, and my envisioned role in both places. I was highly intrigued at the potential for running, swimming, and other exercise opportunities as well as a new variation of baliq (fish) dolma.

Two weeks ago, the YD and CED trainee groups were granted the opportunity to see Azerbaijan’s capital city of Baku. Despite the fact that “the Baku” is located about thirty minutes from my host family, it is Peace Corps policy that trainees are only allowed one trip during PST. After only one afternoon, I can make sense of one person’s explanation that, “Azerbaijan is divided into two parts: Baku…and the rest of the country.” In some ways, I can appreciate the logic of this observation. From my conversations with people, I have gathered that, Baku has absorbed a disproportionately large share of globalization’s benefits relative to the rest of Azerbaijan; not unlike the developmental rift separating cities like Beijing and Shanghai from the Chinese country at large. Signs of international influence are not difficult to find—Tommy, H&M, and McDonalds are just a few of the shops accessible to visitors. There is a great deal of construction, the western-European/North American-style office buildings placed adjacent to Soviet –era structures which, at a certain point in time, manifested themselves next to the Turkish-Islamic inspired edifices of the old city. On our visit to Baku’s beloved “Maiden’s Tower” we were able to access a view of the city as it is at present—the multiplicity of buildings existing as a corporal testimony to the variety of forces shaping its collective persona. Whatever the implications, I was delighted to taste my first Americano in two months!

Following our gallivanting in Baku, I was so busy with language lessons, technical assignments, and recovering from a rather persistent set of physical ailments that I did not recognize the approach of one of my favorite holidays. During PST , Peace Corps groups trainees by location according to professional sector (Youth Development, Teachers of English as a Foreign Language, and Community Economic Development). Within these groupings, trainees fall into smaller “clusters” of about five or six people. Our clusters function as our primary and immediate American network throughout the work week—they are individuals with whom one learns language, engages in required community development practical experiences, etc. Hence, our two YD clusters came together this weekend to celebrate Thanksgiving. While we were not as ambitious as some of our mates who took initiative in purchasing, slaughtering, and cooking an Azerbaijani turkey, we turned out an impressive cornucopia of eats: squash, salad, chicken stuffing, salsa and chips, rice and beans, roasted veggies, salmon dip, chili, and enough sweets to make Willy Wonka blush. Of course there was an impressive array of flatbread, punch, and soda. While I have been battling a rather intense episode of physical and home-sickness, this afternoon left little room for anything save laughter, great homemade food, and good cheer.

Much has occurred between each of these developments and I will be more than happy to bore you, dear readers, with more. However, I must save some stories for the near future. As it is, I must close because my Azerbaijani language books, unfinished holiday cards, and unwritten emails are calling my name. Once again, I would like to take this time to offer my sincere and deepest thanks to those who have taken the time to write—your support, thoughts, and lives give me energy. Please keep them coming! I will send out my exact mailing address as soon as I can. In the meantime, I continue to keep my eyes and mind as open as possible.

I have officially begun my twenty third year of life (according to both Azerbaijani and United States time zones)! My birthday festivities were absolutely fantastic, thanks to the graciousness of my Peace Corps friends, American family members, and host family. Cards, fruit, a lucky horseshoe, and chocolates accounted the spoils of the day. Additionally, the day consisted of bonding time with other YD trainees over a showing of “Forrest Gump” and a family meal of roasted chicken, potatoes, fruit, vegetables, bread, sweets, and compot (homemade fruit punch). The ease with which we laughed, the feeling of satisfaction that comes only from the best of filling meals, and the gratuitousness of being cared for came together to create the best possible 23rd birthday.

It is in this spirit that I post another update on my life over the past few weeks since returning from Zagatala. Upon my return, our trainee group began preparing for our practicum experiences. The assignments are different, depending on your professional sector. TEFLs (teachers of English as a foreign language) work with a particular school, assisting teachers in the classroom and occasionally leading lessons. CEDs (Community Education Development) work with local organizations, mostly on projects dealing with microeconomic and logistical ventures. Finally, we YDs (youth development) are responsible for facilitatings English and computer clubs in partnership with local schools and organizations. Per our request one of my cluster mates and I are currently working at the district’s IDP school, a two room school educating approximately forty to fifty students all hailing from “the occupied territory--the region that the Russians call “Nagorny Karabaq” and what Azerbaijanis simply call “Karabaq.” We are told that many of these children were separated from or lost their parents during the hostilities and, like so many other people scattered around this country, are still waiting to go home. If it is pity you are looking to give, however, you have come to the wrong place. These students, like so many of the young people I with whom I have had the privilege of working in the States, are some of the most resilient and driven individuals around. Their zeal for learning and understanding is fantastic and after only two sessions with approximately thirty students ranging from 10 to 16 years old, I know that leaving them in December will be exceptionally difficult. At this point, Rikki and I are working to bridge the gap between what seems to be the pedagogical emphasis on information retention through memorization and the need for comprehension that comes from practical experience. Unlike TEFLs, we are not bound to a plan or teaching counterpart style so any thing from “the question/answer” Frisbee to hangman to small group discussion is fair game. While I do not necessarily anticipate that these activities will be a large part of my work as a volunteer, I am nonetheless grateful for the privilege of meeting these fabulous young men and women.

In addition to my practical experience training and time spent struggling with language acquisition, I have occupied my time attempting to bake, reading, and spending time with friends (both Azerbaijani and American). I have had a lot of time to internalize realizations inspired, I think, by my time here thus far. I have listed a few below:

-Chestnuts are my favorite nut, though Nat King Cole does not mention the peril that one risks when she commits to the quest of “roasting chestnuts over an open…” qaz plitesi (gas stove). The zeal with which those babies “pop” was epic, second only to their speed en route to your head following said “pop.”

-If/when I return to the United States, I am resolved to bake my own bread as I am currently learning.

-Azerbiajani baklava is my sweet of choice and it is my new life goal to be able to make a good batch of dolma (traditional Azerbaijani dish consisting of meat, spices, vegetables, and rice wrapped in either grape or cabbage leaves).

In other news I have received my site placement—also known as the place that I will be living for the next two years. I will (as of December 9) be serving in the city of Solyan—a small city in the south of Azerbaijan famous for its caviar, warm weather, and historical place on the historical “Silk Road” trade route. I will be working with an organization started by the American Embassy in Azerbaijan called the “American Corner” located (of all places) in a library. The organization started to gain traction in the community when a volunteer from the AZ 5 group started the ground work, doing English conversation clubs, swimming clubs, writing clubs, and other educational development activities. I am told that my counterpart speaks English. I am excited to meet her this Friday at the coordinator’s lunch. While I am greatly excited for the next step in which I will have the opportunity to be of more direct service, I must admit that it is a little bittersweet to think of leaving a place that has become like a home away from home. I have only just started to develop a schedule of sorts, develop connections within my own community, and feel even slightly at home.

Must close for now as there are rubber boots, mittens, and dried fruit to be brought. The upcoming week promises to be a busy one: site placement announcements, conversation club number three, and our group’s first visit to the capital city of Baku. I heard it through the grapevine that, in addition to unique spaces and beautiful architecture Baku boasts a coffee shop AND a Korean restaurant. I wait with trepidation to find out what, if any, truth exist in these rumors. I will report back with more details soon in order to give you more incentive to begin planning your visit…

Updates, updates, updates! I recently returned from my site visit to Zagatala in order to observe the work of an actual PCV in the Youth Development program. Zagatala is about 9-12 hours from my homebase in Sumqait, depending on whether you take bus or train. In an effort to experience as much transportation as possible, our contingent of northern travelers (pictured left) opted for both--train to site and bus for the way back. Taking the night train decorated in what I assumed to be one of the remaining vestiges of the not-so-distant Soviet temperament, the images in our windows transitioned from the lights and offices of Baku to pastures to mountains. After twelve hours of open-spaced, multi-level sleep arrangements, we arrived in Zagatala, a region known for its mountains, nuts, domestic tourism opportunities,and a widely diverse linguistic and ethnic makeup. In true Peace Corps fashion, we dropped off our bags and headed out for adventures and exploration. After a filling breakfast of French Toast (made with rosemary and honey--a randomly fantastic revelation), a group of us went on a hike in the region's famed Caucus Mountains. Perhaps it was my Midwestern sensibilities or naivete, but I was under the impression that "hike" connoted a trail, regular breaks, and a fixed route...I was wrong on all counts. Three hours into our adventure, we dinned on apples and cookies, enjoying the view of Zagatala and, further into the haze, our companions informed us, Georgia. Here is a small realization: hiking up a mountain is difficult for those with accute fears of heights but infinitely worse is walking down.

Much of the trip was spent talking to our host volunteer about her experiences thusfar and life as a PCV generally. As a youth development volunteer, her work is quite varied from day to day and from season to season. The school months are often spent writing grant proposals for potential projects, tutoring, conversation clubs, and spending time in the community. Summer times may involve participation in summer camps, organizations, etc. Throughout our four day visit, my traveling buddy and I had many opportunities to involve ourselves in what may be our life come December. We led our first conversation club session on the topic of "Perceptions in Zagatala" with a group of intermediate English Language speakers and later, administered "mock interviews" with a group of students applying for the FLEX Program (Azerbaijan's study abroad program in the United States). I must say tha I learned quite a bit from those initial sessions--I learned that speed, sentence simplicity, and cognizance of references made are and must be constant objects of consideration when administering conversation clubs. Learning the mechanics of not only speaking, but more importantly, of communicating is something that I am coming to internalize as a constant learning experience.

In addition to cooking, eating, and walking around the city's bazaar shopping for things to cook, we had the opportunity to venture into the nearby village to visit another PCV working as an English teacher. My time in Zagatala certainly highlighted the dynamism and variation of the Peace Corps lifestyle. While some volunteers enjoy relatively urban and socially integrated living conditions, others are more removed, living a short jaunt from the nearest collective set of stores and frequenting the outdoor facilities when necessary. All volunteers get a heating allowance, some utilize the money for conventional heating bills, while others purchase wood to stock the stoves that heat their houses and cook their food. In addition to delicious Chapatis and multiple cups of tea paired with good conversation, we visited one of the city's abandoned churches abandoned, we are told in the not-so-recent past following interstate hostilities out of which peace remains an elusive thought. I left Zagatala feeling generally galvanized to learn more, encouraged in my own capacity to do so, and fully aware of its necessity! Upon our return to training, we resumed class and training. Many of our guest speakers were Peace Corps Volunteers who travelled from all parts of the country to discuss their work, experiences, and ideas about the future of Youth Development in Azerbaijan. While informative, they certainly complicated my idea about where I hope to be placed as a volunteer--there is so much to be done! I must admit that the cant "do good things" so wisely granted before departure is becoming more nuanced and complicated by the day. I wasn't able to dwell too much on my midterm language evaluation and site placement interview as I have become something of a toy (wedding) frequenter. Like American weddings, these gatherings involve eating delicious food (and then some) followed by dancing it all off. Unlike American weddings, these weddings may or may involve a camera crew circulating the party that are hooked up to tv's displayed around the room. As a result, one will likely be just getting over the reality of her awkward dancing abilities and find her face on display in a manner similar to the 1990 MTV Music Awards (not that I have had this experience at all). In any case, it has been great fun and while I have experienced my fair share of "foot-to-mouth" experiences, I am generally in good spirits and excited for the next step. As it is, I am spending the next month preparing and learning as much as possible. Thanks to all who have sent letters and emails--you have no idea how much I appreciate them as a huge part of my heart remains in the good 'ol USA.

Almost two weeks into my time in Pre-Service Training (PST), I thought I would give a few details into life such as it is. I arrived in one of the smaller residential areas surrounding Sumgayit, the third largest city in Azerbaijan if I am not mistaken. I am staying in an apartment complex with a three wonderful host family members, a father, mother, and their youngest daughter who is about my age. We are right on the Caspian Sea and wind is a refreshing pick-me-up when walking home from language and skill trainings. The father is a geography teacher at the local school and the mother and daughter work very hard to keep us all well-fed and warm. They have been fantastic and patient with my slowly developing Azeri skills. Communication is often followed with a series of hand gestures or an occasional run to my room for my trusty Azeri-English dictionary. On a day-to-day basis, I will get up early, do some exercises/yoga in my room, and eat breakfast. I will chat a little with my host mother and then, after a second or third cup of cay (pr. "chai" for tea), head out to meet with a few of my other cluster mates for the walk to school for our morning language classes. Most PCTs are settled into clusters of five and generally located within walking distance of each other. Our language classes are intense but our LCFs (language cultural facilitators) have both been very kind and warm. We then break for lunch and most of us head back to our respective homes for a filling afternoon meal of bread, vegetables, fruit, and a generally tasty main dish--doma (stuffed grape leaves) has become a personal favorite of mine. Afternoons involve skill-based sector trainings. For myself and a handful of other volunteers, these trainings are focused on getting us up to speed on current issues facing Azerbaijani youth, networking/cultural communication trainings, and skill based instruction. The YD Program is the youngest branch of the 7 year old Peace Corps Azerbaijan project and as a result, it seems that a lot of my work will be up to me in terms of structure, rigor, etc. I have had the good fortune of visiting with 2nd year PCV volunteers in this sector and am getting increasingly excited about the prospects for activity. For now, however, it is all about the learning and the listening. With the late afternoon comes the end of school and I will normally go back to the apartment to spend time with menim anam (my host mother), atam (father), and bacim (sister). After a filling dinner (and cay, of course), we watch television, chat, and generally enjoy each other's company. As of late, I have been getting over a cold and thus have been drinking infinitely more cay as my host father has informed me that I am only to remain healthy if I drink a lot of tea and wear my slippers. From all that has ended up happening, he was right as I am much better.

In recent news, our original LCF was called up for army service and was to report within 24 hours to base. Within 24 hours, he had to pack his bags, say his goodbyes, and depart for his home city of Ganga. Our last day was brilliant--we visited with his host family who provided us with a fantastic spread of chicken, vegetables, bread, etc. as well as good company and music! The children were warm and the adults friendly, eager to chat and sing with us as we prepared to make the arduous walk to the bus in order to see Tural off. As with many countries, military service is compulsory in Azerbaijan and young men are required to serve anywhere from one to one and a half years in the armed forces. It was terribly sad to see him go as he had most certainly become part of our developing cluster 32 family. One side note-I am bonding much more rapidly these days with those around me, Azerbaijani and American. Perhaps it is the intensity of everyday that brings us together or just the standard of family and hospitality here. In any case, it seems that it could maybe give Minnesota nice a run for its money! Looking toward the next few weeks, I will be leaving the eastern part of the country for a time to go on a site-visit to Zagatala, one of the northernmost rayons (regions) next Sunday. From what I hear, it is about an eight hour train ride northeast from where I am--through the central part of the country and into the Caucus Mountains. I will be visiting one of the PCVs that I met during the first few days of training and look forward to observing her in action. It will be fantastic to see some more of the country as well. In any case, must close for now as my internet time is at an end. As it is, I am loving and learning everyday know that a part of my heart is still on the other side of "the pond." If there is time, please do drop me a line to let me know all that is new in your lives! Sulh.

Baku, Azerbaijan

I am here! We arrived in Azerbaijan’s capital city, Baku a few days after literally, an entire day of traveling. Following our day of staging in Philadelphia, Peace Corps bussed us to the John F. Kennedy Airport in New York for a seven hour flight to Frankfurt, Germany. Following a five hour layover, we made our way across eastern Europe to Azerbaijan. A distinct memory that stands our from that flight (in addition to the delicious lamb curry) was an acute sense of displacement and disbelief—that is, what in the name of Pete am I doing?! I looked over at fellow trainee, Vivian from Austin, and realized that we were feeling the same thing. Upon asking me whether I had looked out the window, I turned and saw the Caucasus Mountains and then the Caspian Sea both for the first time. My feelings of displacement and early homesickness were, if not replaced, lessened by heightened excitement, curiosity, and gratuitousness. Because I did not sleep well on either airplane ride, I have a strong suspicion that such feelings were the driving force that compelled me to put one foot in front of the other when we touched down, taking my first steps into Azerbaijan.

After getting our bags (none as far as I know were lost), we made our way to the bus. As the doors swung open, we received a warm welcome—complete with signs and “hurrah for AZ-7s”—from a “welcome committee” of AZ-6 Peace Corps Volunteers. The bus ride to the was about an hour and by the time we had checked-in, stored our bags, and made our way up our rooms, I was absolutely exhausted. Azerbaijan is 10 hours ahead of Minnesota time and the training staff gave us most of the morning to sleep, setting our first pre-pre service training time for 11 rather than the regular 9 AM. What would follow for the next few days consisted of what seemed to be an endless litany of important information—talks about cultural competency, development, and language lessons, not to mention the realization that the Azerbaijani national football team is staying in the same hotel! The days have been long and intense but good company and çay (tea) breaks have made the time fly by. The weather has been beautiful (high 60-low 70s with plenty of sunshine and minimal mosquitoes) and the grounds are very nice with many flowers and trees. Our last evening at the hotel was fantastic—traditional Azeri music, dance performers, and ad-hoc lessons in moves dubbed by one of the AZ-6s as “the light bulb.” Dinner consisted of what has become standard over the past few days—çörek (bread), pəndir (cheese), various tərəvez salatı (vegetable salad), and herbs to start; doma (stuffed grape leaves with yogurt) and pulf (meat and rice) for the main course. Quite delicious and a great opportunity to chat further with fellow PCTs (Peace Corps Trainees). After a failed attempt to study language in favor of watching Turkish soap operas and Azeri football (also known as soccer) with some friends, my suitemate and I set to packing our bags for the next day when we will be bussed to our host families and the next stage of pre-service training.

From here, we have three months of language class, home stay, and training within our sector. My sector, Youth Development or YD, is the youngest of the seven year old Peace Corps Azerbaijan program. I am greatly excited, nervous, and ready—I think. I will write soon and hope that all is well with everyone at home. Happy October!

“And he said to himself: shall the day of parting be the day of gathering? And shall it be that my eve was in truth, my dawn?...A seeker of silences am I, and what treasure have I found in silences that I may dispense with confidence? If this is my day of harvest, in what fields have I sown the seed and in what unremembered seasons?”

-Kahil Gibron, The Prophet

Well, this is it.

Excited? Inspired.

Scared? Terrified actually.

Sure? Definitely. I think.

My itinerary this week has been/will be as follows:

September 26th: LSAT/Post-LSAT party

September 27th: "Thanksgiving" dinner

September 26th: Packing again--come visit me!

September 29th: Philadelphia/staging

September 30th: NYC to Frankfurt to Baku

I will be in email contact as much as I can so if/when you have a moment, I would love to hear from you.

Much to love to everyone who has been there. You have made all the difference and "until we meet again, may you keep safe in the gentle, loving arms of God."

Salam. Shalom. Pacem.

To you.

It is crazy to think that my last month of summer is over. So much has happened and as even more people depart for places and adventures unknown, I am continually reminded of how blessed I am to have such wonderful and supportive individuals in my life. Case-in-point: my cousin, Aaron has served in London and Qatar, spending as long as a year and a half at a time away from home, family, and friends. His most recent adventure has drawn him into "the wilderness" also known as Grand Forks, North Dakota from whence he came to eat, drink, and provide the much-anticipated "pep talk" (the annotated version of which is provided below):

In other news, my term of service as an Americorps VISTA ended about two weeks ago with a fantastic picnic in Como Park. It was a lovely day and a great opportunity for people to share stories, talk about future plans, and enjoy a personalized Chipotle burrito (we use the word "picnic" loosely in St. Paul). Festivities included statements by Minnesota Commissioner of Education, Alice Seagren as well as MLC Director and my boss, the MLC/Americorps Summer Reads Coordinator. Dessert and a balloon toss were to follow in celebrating the 60+ women and men who spent ten weeks investing their talents, drive, and dedication in the potential of youth within Twin Cities and Greater Minnesota communities. Though it is not my aspiration to work in the non-profit sector, I am profoundly grateful for the chance to work with such driven and compassionate individuals who, despite differing perspectives and experiences, articulated a common response to President Obama's call to service. It is the example of such people that gives me hope and startles my complacency.

had failed to make on all other aspects of my life that were suddenly and simultaneously vying for attention. About a week ago, I booked my tickets to Peace Corps trainee staging to take place on September 29th. Because I am planning to take the next available administration of the LSAT on September 26th, I called the placement office to gauge the stability of this departure date. The response The conclusion of my Americorps term of service threw into harsh light how much progress Iwas fantastic: "well, Elizabeth, you sound like you will be pretty busy. I can tell you that, barring national emergency in Azerbaijan or natural disaster, you will be arriving in Philadelphia on Tuesday and flying from NYC to Frankfurt to Baku on Wednesday." The very next day, my "welcome/miscellaneous preparation materials" arrived from all modes of communication. Since I accepted my invitation in January, the bulk of my concrete communication with the Peace Corps has confined itself to demands for further medical examination documentation, wisdom teeth extraction surgery (and documentation), or brief language file downloads. Suddenly, I have stacks of reading, information, and paperwork to get through in less than a month. So work, LSAT, PCT paperwork/packing, language training, etc. The solution? Friends/family, laughter, and ice cream-- a problem solving method that is as efficient as the early assembly line minus human rights violations and the flowering of urban sprawl.

While not engaging with packing lists, learning Azerbaijani, activities have included visiting favorite restaurants / ice cream establishments around the cities with friends and getting updated on what has apparently been identified as my "staple question"--that is, "what is new in your life?" There are still a number of things to be done: good byes to be said, random dance parties to be enjoyed, and foods to be tried (I do in fact have a list of places of interest). However for now, I am still here

writing, living, loving.

Peace.

A month into the summer, I thought that I would provide a few updates about life in general as well as continuing with my efforts to get back into the habit of blogging.

July has been full of adventures. Work for AmeriCorps VISTA and the Minnesota Literacy Council continues to be engaging, interesting, and a constant challenge. My site visits in support of the St. Paul and Minneapolis "Volunteers in Service to America" have granted me a opportunity to rediscover the nuances of the Twin Cities and the people populating them. In addition, I have unwittingly become more comfortable finding my way around "the other side of the river" (Minneapolis) and actually managed, as a result of my job adventures, to find a friend's house in uptown with few problems. "Little victories" is the mantra for this summer.

Coupled with site visits in which I interview the VISTAs and their supervisors, observe their progress, and send follow up emails, I have been busying myself with visiting schools to administer "word per minute" literacy evaluations--an assessment meant to determine the effectiveness of VISTA tutoring efforts. It has been an interesting experience, viewing first hand, the number of unacknowledged barriers facing certain students in taking these "objective" tests. How can one claim to report a clear and accurate assessment of a student's level of literacy if he or she does not speak English and attends a Spanish immersion school? What happens when the reading passage assumes cognizance of cultural cues like "pizza" and hence, the ability to pronounce it correctly? Finally, what does it say about the world in which we live when a child knows how to construct a handgun out of Legos, how to hold it, and what it does before he knows how to read?

In the time not spent at work, thinking about work, or doing work at home (formerly called "homework"), I have been busy reading, spending time with friends, and enjoying the cities. And of course, the "farewells" continue--hearty congratulations to Jason for getting his job with an interfaith non-profit in Boston...to Matthew for securing a medical position here in the cities...to Becky, who leaves for New Orleans later this month...to Allie, latest Olaf Peace Corps Volunteer to leave for Zambia! Amazing folks, amazing. This ends the "July post"--please do not hesitate to contact me over the next few months before departure. Would love to see you.

Peace.

Hello friends, family, and colleagues! My thanks for taking the time to check in on my adventures as a college graduate, Americorps VISTA, and Peace Corps Volunteer. It has--and I imagine, will continue to be--a time marked by change, transition,

and growth. After graduating from St. Olaf College in May, I have returned home for a Twin Cities summer before starting my term of service with the Peace Corps in Azerbaijan. This summer, I will begin work at my new job with Americorps VISTA and the Minnesota Literacy Council. The Summer READS program places "Volunteers in Service of America" (VISTAs) in sites and schools throughout the state as literacy tutors, mentors, and community developers. I have worked with this program in the past and couldn't be more excited to be returning! For the next ten weeks, I will be splitting my time between tutoring at the Riverview Library in St. Paul and administering support and progress reports for the 60 VISTAs working in the metro area. We recently had pre-service training for the new volunteers from which everyone seemed to depart energized, compelled, and ready to serve.

Before beginning work with the Minnesota Literacy Council's "Summer READS" program earlier this month, a good friend and I were able to take a "last huarrah" road trip to Duluth and Grand Marais. We spent the week exploring, dining on chips and wasabi peas, and enjoying the absolute beauty that is the Minnesota North Shore. Emily and I have been hanging out together since second grade swim lessons. She is of my oldest and dearest friends and, in true "twin"fashion, both of us will be departing the country this year--though Emily is leaving this week to work as an English teacher in South Korea through the Fulbright Scholarship Program. A favorite memory involved our first hike in Grand Marais. What was meant to be a light, pre-dinner walk turned into a 4 hour hike through the woods after a simple case of misdirection. Did I mention that when we finally found a road, we had to go all the way back due to near dog-attack? We are now thinking about starting a show called, "Academic vs. Woods." Not British, willing to break our legs to demonstrate survival techniques, or equipped with a winning masculine name like "Bears" but it could still work.

In other news, I have been spending a lot of time saying good bye (or "I'll be seeing you's" as I have taken to call this arduous exercise) to various friends, colleagues, and former classmates who are departing the state and country to go be their amazing selves. One friend is leaving next week to travel, learn, and grow in various parts of the Eastern United States and then Europe. Whether teaching, researching, or building, the fantastic people that I have the privilege to call my friends are making tracks from Boston to Honduras! For my part, I am deeply grateful for this small window of summer in "the Saintly City." It will be time well spent on collecting a last batch of Minnesota memories, reflecting on what is to come, and preparing for the next big jump!

Also, for more information on my future two-year home, here are some helpful links introducing "the land of fire":

Peace Corps: Azerbaijan

General Information

"Freedom" in Azerbaijan

Human Rights in Azerbaijan

Lonely Planet Travel Books: Azerbaijan