Life is what you make of it February 6, 2012

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

The Natural Washer and Drier February 5, 2012

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

A Little Wilderness

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

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

Moving to Washington DC January 16, 2012 As my moving date getting closer, I become more and more restless. I have the same anxiety as I had when I left for Peace Corps two years ago. “Will I be happy?” “Will I miss my hiking buddies in CMCNY?”, and most importantly, “Will I be lonely?” But when I calm down and revert to some of the loneliness moments I had in Azerbaijan, I laugh at my silliness. I should have known better. “Loneliness is part of the Peace Corps package - part of what makes the experience both meaningful and rewarding when you come out the other end after two years. If you stick through the lonely points, you will experience life in a completely unique and meaningful way. …….you will learn a lot about yourself” – Dillon Banerjee I have learned from Peace Corps experience that there is a difference between feeling lonely and being alone. 2nd year in Azerbaijan, I came to appreciate the difference more. Most of the time, I was alone but I never felt lonely. I was busy all the time, busy to read, to cook, to write, to listen to music and to take long walk. I coveted those quiet deeply personal times alone, times to reflect, to think, to relax and to sleep. Once I settle down in Virginia, I will be so occupied with my new life that I hardly have any time to feel lonely. First, it is my job with the Smithsonian, not only I will meet many co-workers but also I will be acquainted with some of the most interesting people who make Smithsonian Institution the “Smithsonian”. Weekend, I will explore all the parks, hiking and running trails nearby. I already found out the four-mile run park in my neighborhood, the 18-mile Mt. Vernon biking trail, the Monticello Park which is only 0.9 miles from where I live. The park is full of wildlife, has a steep canyon and a creek with sparkling water. The sound of it already makes me get so excited! With my adventure spirit, I will make my time in Virginia another exhilarating chapter of my life. I am so looking forward to it.

January 12, 2012

I have been back from Azerbaijan more than a month. My daily life more or less is back to “normal”. I did not have a hard time readjusting myself to the modern world as Peace Corps warned us, the RPCVs. I welcome all the amenities that the modern world has to offer; such as drinking the tap water without any fear that it would got me sick, running water, gas and electricity would be available without any interruption, going to a supermarket and I can get anything I need, my apartment will be warm and clean etc. Unconsciously, I have switched my mind back to the point of time before leaving Peace Corps, twenty seven months ago. In spite of the easy transition, one thing I notice that I do have difficulty changing is my attitude towards others. Yesterday, I returned an item to Sears and the sale person was very rude and refused to take back the item (which is against Sears’ returning policy). I did not get frustrated; instead, I politely explained to her my problem and apologized for the inconvenience that I caused. When I left the store, I was very surprised the way I acted. “Where did that good manner come from?” The image of a warm and friendly Azeri elder immediately emerges. I have tamed by the good nature people in Azerbaijan. Having lived with them for two years, without knowing, I take on their traditional way of treating each other: respect, hospitability, and patience. For a month, I was so occupied by the hustle and bustle life in American that I nearly forgot my life in Azerbaijan. I took a few hours to re-read my blog and relived some of the precious moments with my Azeri friends. I miss my co-workers in the bank, my landlord, my neighbors, my vegetable man and woman in the Bazaar, my program manager, Peace Corps staffs in Baku, the olive trees, the Azeri gardens, the Caspian Sea, the magnificent sunset, the infamous Baku gale… Serving Peace Corps in Azerbaijan is one of the most humble experiences of my life.

January 11, 2012

Since I moved to New York more than twenty years ago, I had called nowhere else but New York my home. It was in New York where I built my career, developed many beautiful friendships, fell in love, and found a cozy home. I walked nearly every street in New York City, knew the best Chinese restaurant in midtown Manhattan, hung out on many trendy clubs in the lower Eastside, and of course, witnessed crimes that scared me to death. New York is a like an old blanket to me, it has been an integral part of my adult life. But starting February 2012, Virginia will be my home. Who does not have the fear of the unknown? The uncertainty of what lies ahead. What my life will be in DC? Will I be lonely? As I watch the Manhattan skylines silhouetted against the crimson evening sky, cannot help but praying for my future. I will miss New York, but I know I will learn to love Virginia.

A Job Offer – a Successful Story January 2, 2012 It is the news that I having been waiting for more than six months. The Federal government finally makes its offer. After applying for 75 Federal jobs, I get myself not only one job offer but two; a budget officer for the USDA National Forest and a staff accountant for the Smithsonian Institution. I like both jobs, but moving to DC is much easier than moving to Utah, so the decision is obvious. Some of my PCV friends said that I was lucky to get the job so quickly. Some of the AZ6 left Azerbaijan a year earlier still struggling to get an interview, how fortunate I am to land myself a job within a month after returning to the US. Just for the record, my dear fellow RPCV friends, I was not lucky; I had worked very very hard for it. I do not know any AZ7 (my group) who had applied as many jobs as I did, and I definitely do not believe any AZ7 who had done as much research as I did on “how to find a Federal Government job”. Back in January 2010, I already knew it would be extremely difficult to find a job in the public sector. I was fully aware that I had to compete with lots of veterans, veterans’ family, former federal employees, people with disability and thousands of RPCVs. The chance of my resume to be selected by the “computer” and later by “HR” is close to zero, unless my resume is so exceptional, so outstanding, so terrific, so stupendous, so marvelous, or it would never reach the desk of the hiring manager. So I worked on my resume, I had a resume for every job I applied. I read, read and re-read the job description and made sure all the job requirements and qualifications were properly reflected in my resume. Some of my resumes were 6 pages long, some 8 pages long, some long and some short, whatever format, style and presentation seemed appropriate for that job, I worked on it. There were countless nights that I worked on my resume until my neck became so stiff. There were numerous weekends that I travelled to Peace Corps Office in Baku, sat in front of the computer in the dark basement, spent hours and hours applying the job on-line until my eyes got so tired that I felt dizzy. Finally, when I got the phone call or e-mail for a telephone/face-to-face interview, I kept practicing an interview skill in front of a mirror, with my cell phone, trained how to speak clearly if it was a telephone interview, trained to smile properly if it was a face-to-face interview, learned how to use body language, how to dress, and how to impress the interviewers with well-prepared answers and questions. So my success is no coincidence, and definitely not lucks. It is hard work, discipline and not willing to give up that reward me with a result. One advice to the AZ8 who wants to work for the Federal Government, start your job search NOW, don’t wait until you return to the US, don’t wait until this summer, get yourself familiar with the application process, apply as many jobs as possible. You will get zero respond for the first 3 months, but do not get discouraged, do not give up, keep revising your resume until you get a respond. Be prepared to apply for more than 100 jobs, just keep going. You do not need luck, just hard work!

December 1, 2011 The first few days while I was in Hong Kong with my family, I often felt disoriented and confused. Few times, I woke up in the morning and forgot where I was, Azerbaijan, Hong Kong or the United States? Sometimes I spoke Chinese with my sister, sometimes I reacted to her questions with Azeri and sometimes, I mixed my sentences with three different languages. Now back to my New York apartment, I felt a little better, although once in a while, I was still puzzled as why the person in TV not speaking Azerbaijani. The most difficult part of readjusting my life in the US is the “Cost of Living”. I was so used to paying only 50 cents or a dollar for a kilo of apples, carrots, potatoes and tomatoes, now I could easily spend more than 30 dollars every time I went grocery shopping. (30 dollar was my three weeks’ food money in Azerbaijan) Two-year life with Peace Corps, I learn to be moderate when it comes to spending money. I am not cheap but today I have to watch every dollar I spend, especially I have no income, not even the meager Peace Corps allowance. I ought to be discipline and live within my budget. Remember those good old days when I worked in Wall Street, I earned money more than I could spend. I had a luxury life but not necessary a satisfying one. Now, even I can not afford to go out for a nice dinner with friends, I feel content just cooking a simple but healthy meal for myself or my gusts. I sense the newness of life, the kind of happiness coming from within my soul, it is hard to describe. I like my life now, very much!

Goodbye Sumgayit, Goodbye Azerbaijan

Sizi heç zaman unutmarım (I will never forget you)

November 8, 2011

Entering to the Park, I notice the season is changing. Around me, fallen leaves swirl about with each breeze from the Sea. Inside the park, some yellow leaves have blackened, and some trees stand bare and silent. Soon the winter will be here, but I won’t.

These past two years whenever I felt glum and impotent, I would go for a walk/run in the park. The park never failed to lift my spirit. It was also inside the park that I met many friendly Azeri elders. I enjoyed watching them dozing off on a bench, drinking tea under a tree, chattering with acquaintances, playing with their grandkids or casually walking towards the sunset. For them, life in Sumgayit is neither dull nor harsh for it is the only life they know. They have little knowledge of the outside world other than their own.

Sumgayit, the town I called home for the past two years, is a small dusty little suburban area with population less than 300,000. During the Soviet time, it was a notorious, highly polluted industrial place. Even today, you can still see factory ruins and abandoned Russian compounds everywhere. Sumgayit is definitely not a popular tourist destination like Baku, Ganja, Sheki or Mingachevir. At times, when the living conditions were so harsh, especially during the winter months, I hated it here. Yet, slowly I developed a tolerance for this place, even affection. Maybe because here, something of the old ways still survive.

Every weekend, I was eager to go to the Bazaar, not only to buy foods but to smell and feel the excitement of the Azeri life. It was the hustle and bustle aura of the Bazaar that magnetized me. Street vendors and farmers came from far places selling their fresh fruits and vegetables, howling and yelling to market their products. With my broken Azerbaijani and a foreign face, I frequently attracted their attention, sometimes even unwanted type. Passing through my favorite bakery, with the aroma of freshly baked brick oven bread, I never could resist buying a piece. I don’t think I will ever forget that earthly taste, smoky flavor and burnt smell.

From a far distance, a familiar evening call to prayer brings me back to the present. This hauntingly beautiful cry echoes mellifluously around me. I again, look to the elders in the park. In spite of having so little in their retirement, they seem contented. After all, they believe their lives should be defined by not having lots of material things but by having many healthy grandchildren. When the sun begins to set, I take a last glance at the Caspian Sea. I can not help but wondering how many of people in their lives time have the opportunity to see this inland Ocean. How privileged I am to stroll by its shore everyday for the past two years. I watch the glory sunset on the horizon and the peaceful image of the Azeri elders. The mystical ancient chanting resonates; the harmonies of this place are coalescing in my mind. I walk home with heavy emotion knowing that the end of my life in Azerbaijan is near.

Although I always feel the lure of far places, but today I am longing to go home. Tomorrow, I will be leaving Sumgayit and begin my long journey home and, at the stroke of midnight November 9, 2011, I will forever been called as RPCV ((Returned Peace Corps Volunteer). The title, I am proud and deeply honored to earn.

Chi S. Chan,

United States Peace Corps Volunteer

Azerbaijan 2009-2011

October 1, 2011

I was awakened by the distant sound a rolling thunder. It is nearly dawn but the sky outside my bedroom window is still gloomy and depressing. Lightning repeatedly flashes and thunder mutters ominously. I don’t want to get up, just lying in bed contentedly and listening to the sousing downpours of the rain.

Rain in this part of the world usually goes as quickly as it comes, but not today. By 11:00am, rain still comes and not wanting to go. I always have a rain fixation. It may seem inconvenient to go outside in the rain, but I do not mind remaining indoor; observing how the rain transforms the world.

First, it is the air. Rain washes the air heavy, fragrant. I find its smell irresistible. Then, it is the sound of the rain, the rhythm that it creates; the gentle tapping resonances on a rooftop, on tree branches, on leaves, on earth. It is prodigiously soothing, hypnotic, soporific and comforting. Wind turns out to be, if anything, even more magnificent. Here in Baku, the notorious gale often intensifies a rain storm. I watch the 70 feet tall giant cottonwood in my courtyard swinging back and forth ferociously as the gale grows fiercer. Leaves are drenched with rainfalls which help to wash away months of cumulated summer dust. I often wonder where the birds are, where they are hiding, how they keep themselves dry and warm.

Then it is the after rain. When the pale sky begins to brighten, slowly the chirping sounds of birds become audible. Patches of blue sky appear, sun peeks through dark clouds, and millions of diamond raindrops scintillating in its rays. Everything is brought back to life again.

October 19, 2011

For a long time, I wanted to write about this.

I have tried, tried so very hard to be positive, to change my attitude, to like them. At one point, I even pretended that I connected with them, but the truth is, those dreadful teenagers never leave me alone, never go away; and their verbal harassments never stop. We are told to report those instances to Peace Corps and encouraged to call our security officer and let him deal with those horrible creatures. But if I followed the rule, I would have to call him everyday. Peace Corps security officer may be able to help me today, but he can not protect me from receiving another harassment tomorrow. So, what is the point of calling him?

I have been in Azerbaijan for more than two years, to be exact 749 days. Not one day that I did not receive stares from strangers. On a good day, I would receive just a few stares, but on a bad day, the intent look would escalate to verbal abuse, followed by giggles and racial shrugs. The worse case scenario, they would instigate a confrontation or throw a stone at me.

At first, I was afraid of them. Whenever I saw them walking towards me, I took a detour. Few times, they realized that I was avoiding them, so they followed me and scared me from behind. After a few months, I gained courage and confronted them, yelled at them, but it only created more abuse, followed by cheering, giggles and verbal slurs. Many of the verbal abuses related to racial ones. I have a Chinese face. The teenagers immediate associated my look with the “China men” they saw on TV. They imitated what they saw on TV and acted it out in front of me, kicking and screaming like Jackie Chen to irritate me. Many times, I ignored them and ran. Now, I put on my Ipod and force myself not to listen to their verbal slurs. I avoid eye contact and swallow my anger.

Few days ago, I met another PCV in Baku office. We chatted and exchanged stories. Our complains about those teenager boys were almost identical. My friend is a young pretty woman. She and her husband live on a remove village. The daily harassment she received sounds worse than mine. Few times, her husband nearly got into a physical fight with those teenage boys in order to protect his wife from being harassed. I am sure Peace Corps is fully aware of those situations, but Peace Corps does not have a solution. There is really nothing, nothing Peace Corps can do to lessen our agony or to save us from further abuse. The root of the problem is education.

I admit, most Azeri elders and educated youngsters do not behave the same way. There are many university students I met are very polite and respectful. Unfortunately, those students live in Baku, and all the “bad apples” live in remove villages where Peace Corps Volunteers are placed to serve.

Before I came to this country, I was mentally prepared to deal with harsh living conditions. I could tolerate the bitter cold 24 hours a day, and I did not mind the shortage of running water, gas and electricity, but I was not prepared to be treated like an animal inside a cage, constantly being watched and poked at with a stick. How badly those teenagers had behaved towards a foreigner whose only intention is to come and help their country.

My two years life in Azerbaijan mostly is memorable, but there were moments I truly wish I could forget and forgive.

September 24, 2011

Years ago, I watched a special program on PBS and learned about a very touching story. A successful young eye doctor decided to give up her career in Europe and went back to her own country in Africa and helped those who had suffered years of unnecessary blindness. Accidentally, I saw her again on TV today, she is a bit older now but is still as energetic as the first time I saw her on TV.

Over the years, her story inspired many eye surgeons in the world. Once a year, they joined her and donated their service to help her people. She told the TV reporter that she was deeply humbled by their kindness. Some of the volunteers came from far places; and paid for their own plant ticket and brought their own supplies. Most of them came year after year. She continued to tell the reporter that when she first met those volunteer surgeons, they all had dark hair; today nearly all of them have grey hair. She laughed after she made that comment, but I found myself not laughing.

Before today, I convinced myself that serving the Peace Corps for two years; I had done my share of goodness to the world. After Peace Corps, I can move on to pursuit my own happiness with no guilt. Today, watching this young woman’s interview, I feel ashamed. These doctors have made volunteer work their life time commitment. They never thought of their action as “their share” of kindness to the world, they put no time limit as how many years of volunteer service they should do. They did it year after year for they believe in doing it. They have the true spirit of volunteerism. I am forever humbled by them.

Tomorrow, I will begin a search for my next volunteer work. Like those doctors, I will made volunteerism my life time commitment, whether it is just a few hours a week or once a month.

September 9, 2011

For the twenty months working at the bank, almost every week I could hear our director screaming at someone on the phone. Our director is a gentleman; he is always calm and polite to greet me in the morning. Sometimes I wish I could communicate with him better, he seems to be a man with knowledge, deep traditional culture and value. His yelling perplexed me so one day I decided to find out the reason of his anger from my co-worker.

My co-worker was embarrassed first, and then she explained. Our director is responsible to ensure all bank loans are paid on time. If a customer misses a payment, he has to call that customer to remind (more like “threaten”) him/her to pay. Most of the time, the call embarrasses or even terrorizes the customer. In Azerbaijan, most folks still hold on to their traditional value; still believe in “not able to pay their debts” is a shame, a humiliation. More often than not, the director’s call works and the customer shows up next day to pay. If that customer still refuses to pay, every morning that customer will receive an even louder and angrier call from our director.

In America, it is considered unprofessional to threaten any customer. If a customer misses a payment, it is not a big deal. A friendly computerized notice will reach the customer and remain him/her to pay. If the customer is behind the payment more than six months, then the account will be handed over to a collecting agency or bank attorney for legal action. (Something like that order, not 100% sure) Neither the loan officer nor anyone at the bank would make any “threaten” phone call to a customer. Eventually, the loan defaults, the bank forecloses or sells the property. The entire processes may take months or year, and it costs the bank thousands of dollars.

I compare the two methods and could not help but wondering which method is more effective and efficient.

September 8, 2011

News from AZ6 (the group left last year) that lots of them having difficulty finding jobs in the States. Some advised us to begin job searching as soon as possible, even before we leave for the States. I am a planner and I have started my job searching back in January. As of today, I have already sent out 65 Federal job resumes, received six potential interviews, two telephone interviews and in fact one job offer. The reply ratio is 9% and successful rate is 1.5%. When compared to others’, my response ratios are considered very high. One of the RPCV (Returned Peace Corps Volunteer) told me that he sent out 150 resumes and received NONE, yes zero response.

I was a little distressed when I received my 1st rejection letter. The rejection letter was just a standard computerized e-mail, no personal touch, plainly say “NO, thank you for applying”. After the 2nd, 3rd…. and the 50th negative response, instead of being upset, I simply joked around with the RPCV that 60 resumes down and only 90 more to go. By now, I am used to all the rejections but I am not giving up.

I never held a Federal job which could be a disadvantage. Federal job usually opens to veterans first, their spouses, disable applicants, federal employees, former federal employees, and finally candidates under special appointing authority, such as RPCV. Even I am an over-qualified RPCV candidate for the position, someone who is a “Status” applicant and meet the minimum education or experience requirements, he/she will be considered for an interview before me. All and all, I am on the bottom of the list but slightly better than average non-status US citizen.

Another thing I want to point out is the application process, from the time you send in your on-line application to the time you receive (If you do receive) a response, average time span is 45-60 days, sometimes it is even longer. My country director told me that she did not hear about her application until 9 months later. On top of that, writing a Federal Resume and KSAs (knowledge, abilities and skills) essay are exasperating. You have to use the exact wordings on the job description to prepare your resume. Every resume is first screened by computer, not someone from HR. If you don’t use the language that the computer is expecting, your resume will not be picked up for further review. That means each job you apply requires a customized resume. It took me six months to become proficiency in my Federal resume writing. Now I have set up three standard resumes: one for Accountant, one for Budget Analyst and one for Financial Analyst position. Each time I apply for a new opening, I just have to revise some wordings to match with those on the job description.

Finally, the technical and assessment questionnaires, which can add up to a hundred questions to answer. I usually print them out, study them and use the questions to adjust my resume as well. All these never ending processes add up to many frustrations. A lot of people did finally give up.

But I am not giving up. I will continue applying for that Federal “Dream” job. I truly believe that if I work hard, I shall be rewarded. In addition, I really like President Obama; and I love to help him to straight out the Federal Budget. :-P

September 12, 2011

I was watching the US Open on Azeri TV. It was the final match and Stosur from Australia won the championship. As I looked at both players: Williams and Stosur, I could not help but noticing physically how strong both of them are. Their arms and legs are muscular, tanned and with athletic curvature. Maybe according to the Hollywood standard, they are not feminine enough to be called beautiful. To me, they are striking, eye-catching, stunning.

I have always admired athletes: sportsmen, dancers, runner, and mountaineers. How discipline they train every day in order to achieve most human beings cannot accomplish, how determine they are in order to win the competition. They are mentally and physically powerful, have strong will and restraint. To me, they are exceptional human beings.

Most my friends in New York my age are either over-weighted or completely out of shape. Their muscle is drooping everywhere with floppy stomach, sagging bottom and wilting figure. Numerous times, I advised them to take good care of their bodies, do moderate exercise; tune up their muscle, and to be physically and mentally healthy. Middle age women do not have to grow old like a piece of “SHIT”. With daily exercise, we can look as well as younger women. We should all grow old with grace and dignity. Unfortunately, my friends’ altitude is “Why bother, men don’t even look at me any more”. I got frustrated every time I heard this. Why we continue to allow men defining us?

We all should insist on having a quality life; a healthy, independent, productive, and happy one. Human life span is very short and I wish I could live a hundred, two hundred or a thousand years longer and experience more of what life has to offer. Unfortunately, I could not so I must live every second of my life to the fullest. In order to do that, I have to be emotionally and physically energetic, this drives me to go out everyday; run, walk, climb, jump, smile, and be active.

After a prolonged rain, the sun finally came out yesterday. I watched the sun peered through dark clouds, suddenly it came into full view on the horizon, hitting the earth like thunder! Life is beautiful!

September 3, 2011

Even Peace Corps discourages it, but every year, one or two PCV would bring an Azerbaijan animal home, usually it is either a cat or a dog. Not only it is a very costly arrangement, it is also a tiresome process, tons of paperwork to fill. Dog and cat are not well cared for by the Azerbaijani and it is not difficult to understand. Some Azerbaijani do not even have enough money to feed their kids; so how can they afford to treat an animal as well as the way the American do. Personally, I would never go through all these trouble to bring an animal home. However, I fully understand why someone would do that.

Few months ago, while I was running by the park, out of nowhere, a little yellow object leaped out from behind a bush. I was startled by it and my immediate reaction freighted the little creature as well. It, in return, ran back to the bushes and peeked at me coyly. When I finally realized that was a puppy no more a month old, I approached it with extreme gentleness. The puppy was still afraid of me but its curiosity overcame its fear, slowly he came out from the bushes, hopping up and down to greet me. The little thing was just a ball of furs, so tiny, so cute and so adorable. But as I got closer to it, I saw ticks covering the puppy’s head and body. I was sick to my stomach. The puppy was abandoned by its mother and it desperately needed affection. I wanted to touch him so badly but I would not dare, just left him there with those “begging for attention” and innocent eyes.

For the next few days, I continued seeing him, each time, he greeted me with the same eagerness and affection, and each time, I avoided him. After a week or so, I did not see him anymore and I just assumed that he was death (most dogs in Azerbaijan end up that way).

Few days ago, I came to the same area and met an old lady with a dog. The dog seemed to be very happy to see me. He kept using his feet to touch mine. I did not recognize it first but as I looked into its eyes, I saw that innocent look again. It was the same dog! He was adopted by this kind Azeri grandmother. He was tick free and had grown much bigger but it was still a playful puppy. The following day, I brought him a bone. As soon as he saw me, he ran so fast to greet me, again hopping up and down to show its affection. I told him “otur” (to sit), and he understood! He let me took a photo of him. My heart just melted. It was lucky that this puppy was adopted or I had to worry about leaving him behind.

Now I am seriously thinking about getting a dog or a cat when I get home! Hum……

I

I chewed over this statement for a long time:

“Peace Corps was a lovely idea-for idle and idealistic young Americans. Gave them a chance to see a bit of the world, learn something. But as an effort to “improve” the lives of other peoples, the inhabitants of the so-called “underdeveloped nations, it was an act of cultural arrogance. A piece of insolence.” - Edward Abbey

Edward Abbey is my idol but when the first I read this, I was angry. What did he know about Peace Corps, he never been a Peace Corps volunteer! Now as my Peace Corps dream approaches to an end, I can not help but brooding over his statement once again, and this time, to a certain degree, I agree with Ed.

Recently, I read an article written by Paul Theroux, a Returned Peace Corps Volunteer (RPCV) served in Malawi in the 1960’s as a English teacher, his reflection of Peace Corps experience somewhat resonates Ed’s opinion:

“My teaching had its uses for them, but what I taught was negligible compared to what I learned.....most people would not see what I saw in Africa: the resiliency of the people. Africans knew neglect, drought, flood, bad harvests, hungers, disease…..and yet in the face of these adversities they had developed survival skills, and prevailed….today... despite forty years of volunteer efforts, Malawi is probably worse off than it was back in 1963…”

So what is the point of Peace Corps?

“I became a teacher in Africa and my whole life changes. I was happier; I had a purpose…… I was becoming the person I wanted to be, not just a young man with a job but someone developing a sensibility....”

As Paul indicated, the time I spent in Azerbaijan, without a doubt has a greater impact in me than in the people whom I was trying to help. How much I have changed since I set foot in this “underdeveloped” country. I know I can tolerate a much higher degree of discomfort, no regular running water, gas or electricity is not the end of the world. Having lived with people with so little material provisions, now I can go home and be happy to live simple. I don’t need a high paying job; I can survive with less income. I don’t have to live in a luxury two-bed room condo. I can be just happy to live in a cozy studio. I don’t have to drink Starbuck coffee, eat imported cheese, and indulge with expensive wine. I don’t need fancy jewels and designer clothing to look good. I don’t have to compete with colleagues and friends. I don’t have to rush going from point A to point B.

I will return to New York with a much lighter spirit. Three most valuable lessons I learned from my Peace Corps experience: be patient, be flexible, and always have a sense of humor. I have grown to love life with a different attitude, I become more sensible and understanding, learn to listen more, have less self-pity, care more about my community, friends and family, recognize there are many people in the world with real problems, be more supportive with their needs rather than constantly complain about my own problems. Life in Azerbaijan has made a profound difference in me.

As my Peace Crops journey comes to an end, and soon there will be more new faces (the AZ9) coming to Azerbaijan in October. I wish them well and my advice to them is another quote from Paul Theroux:

“…don’t make a mistake in thinking that you will make an important difference in the lives of the people you are among. The profound difference will be in you”.

Value your time here for it will forever change you. Good luck AZ9, and be a good Peace Corps Volunteer!

August 28, 2011

Autumn has set in. For days the sky wept. During the entire COS conference, it rained everyday! but it was nice to see all my friends again. Perhaps this was the last time we would be together as a group. After the COS conference, one by one will leave this country and head home.

When the sun finally comes out today, the temperature drops to a very comfortable level. I think summer is officially over. It signals another beginning. With only two months left, I will be saying goodbye to this country for good. Deep down inside, I am aware that I will never come back here again……

Today, I begin systematically going through one drawer to another, sorting out things into three piles, items that I want to bring home, items that I can giving away to neighbors and items that should be discarded. Hard to believe that I have cumulated so much junks over the years. Lots of CDs that I used to love; now they become a burden to bring home. I will give them away to kids.

As I go through some old papers, I discovered a pile of package slips. Over the past two years, I have received more than 16 packages from friends and family. I purposely saved those slips to remind myself, how lucky I am to have friends and family supporting my Peace Corps mission. Their packages mean a world to me…..really…thank you all. I have to find a way to reciprocate their kindness someday.

A strange sensation emerges as I start preparing my journey home…….can not fully comprehend that emotion..…I think I am not the same person who left New York two years ago….I have changed and it frightens me.

August 19, 2011

COS (Close of Service) conference is next week. The event marks the beginning process of the end of our Peace Corps commitment. Any “work-in-progress” project has to be wrapped up or transferred to the AZ8s. For the next two months, we, the AZ7s will be dealing with lots of administrative procedures, filing out tons of paper works and forms, scheduling medical checkup, sorting out our personal belongings, donating some of our clothing to charities, arranging travel plan, closing Peace Corps meager allowance bank account, attending the conference, exit meeting with our country director, telling our Peace Crops stories, exchanging good wishes to other PCVs and saying farewell to Peace Crops staffs in Baku, etc. It is hard to believe that the end of my Peace Corps journey is actually near. Time flies.

Few nights ago, I looked up to the sky and saw a plane flying out of Baku. I pictured myself on that plane looking down to this dusty town that had been my home for more than two years, sadness surged….…. Maybe because of the emotional stress, I became sick next day. I have not been sick for a long time. The daily exercise keeps me very healthy in Azerbaijan, but Friday morning, I woke up with a sore throat, running nose, and headache. Saturday, with 101 degree fever, I could not do anything except sleep and sleep. But 24 hours later, I fully recovered with just minor cough. In the past, a cold usually lingered 4-5 days, but now it only lasts 48 hours. I have grown much stronger physically. It all due to the daily run/walk. Exercise indeed does my body good!

When I return home, I will keep up with the discipline, exercise everyday. But I realize that something will be missing from that daily routine. For sure, there will no more olive trees growing along my running path, no more breezes blowing in from the Caspian Sea, no more “Salam” greetings from my Azeri friends, no more little kids running after me and definitely no more staring from a stranger.

August 16, 2011

Vivian and Carol were my teammates during the pre-serving training. Over the past two years, we have developed close friendship. After the training, we went on our separate assignments. Both of them currently live in Ganja, about 5-hour bus ride from where I live. Nevertheless, we manage to stay in touch and try to visit each other as often as we can.

Vivi, (name that I give her) was once a famous “Party Planner” in Dallas, she had some impressive clients; like Ronald Reagan and Prince of Saudi. Even Martha Steward called her for an advice. I enjoy cooking with her. Carol, is the Yale graduated and schoolmate of Hillary Clinton. For the past few months, Carol has been my “resume writing” advisor. Vivi and Carol are very different. Carol is extremely intelligent, calm and rational. Vivi is funny, dramatic and emotional. I like them both. If I have to make a list of my best Peace Corps experiences, “Knowing them” has to be the top item on that list.

I always assume that Carol is “Book Smart” and Vivi is “Street Smart”. Today, I realize that I am wrong. Not only Viv is “Street Smart”, she is simply SMART. Here is section of Vivi’s daily journal about her life with Peace Corps:

“…It’s not that I am smarter, just that my mind is a lot more “open” than before. I still hear things in the news that just makes me scratch my head and run to the kitchen. But I think about humanity in a broader sense, about true differences in world cultures, deeper spirituality and everything that flows with it. It is incredible how you feel as you listen to the Call to Prayer 3 times a day. I always stop to reflect for a moment, even at 4:48 AM every single day. This hauntingly beautiful cry is not just about Muslims; it transcends the boundaries of religion for me and brings me to a peaceful place to consider “ME” and how I want to continue living. Since I am getting anxious to get home and start this new living, I need to keep listening to the Call and feel the patience (no urgency) in its cry. “

Somehow, Viv’s profound spiritual revelation frees me from weeks’ of self-inflicted despair, urges me to forgo the past and inspires me to continue living intensely and richly after Peace Corps.

Like Vivian, I also eager to start a new life.

The temperature in the sun is 54C, or 129F. Standing directly under the hot sun, you think your brain is melting. If my friends complain about the 90s degree heat in New York City, I would gladly exchange places with them just for one night here in Azerbaijan.

Azerbaijan is in the middle of summer, everywhere is hot, hot and Çox isti. Between the hours of 12pm to 4pm, the street is nearly deserted, not many living or non-living creatures around. Taxi drivers, construction workers and street cleaning ladies all nap/hide under trees, birds refuse to sing, cats stretch out with their flat belly on cool sands, policemen hide in teahouses, chickens burrow under bushes. Cars, trucks and bicycles are abandoned on shaded sidewalks. Not a single soul is willing to venture out in the open.

My balcony faces south. Normally if I open my balcony door, there is a light breeze flowing in directly from the north, which makes my apartment cool in summer. Three days ago, when I opened the balcony door, I noticed the shift of wind direction. The cool breeze was replaced by blast of hot air. Instead of blowing from the north, the sizzling wind charged in from the south. The temperature inside my apartment changed from warm to scorching hot. I could not sit, stand, sleep or walk. The boiling heat combined with high humidity liquefied me. I found every inch of my body covering with sweats. I stayed half-naked whole day inside my apartment. (Thank God, I do not have a roommate!) Repeated cold showers could not alleviate me from the agony. For once, I wish for winter. (I normally hate the cold) The heat lingered deep into the night, by midnight, my apartment remained hot like an oven. I lay wide-awake until dawn.

Remember once my Azeri friend told me that there were two kinds of wind blowing in Azerbaijan: the north and the south wind. The south wind is notorious for its high temperature. It sets off from the Saudi desert. Summer when it swifts through Azerbaijan, sometimes it can destroy crops and kill farm animals. These past three days, I have experienced its power. Once I understand what it is, my altitude towards the “devil heat” changes. Instead of hating it, I accept it, respect it and make peace with it.

“Harmonize with nature “

Another Chinese wisdom ricochets from memory.

Three days later, the wind changed direction. Now it is once again blowing from the north. What a relief! Even daytime temperature remains well above 110F, but if you stand under a tree or hide in a shade and do nothing, it is not so bad. By evening, with a light breeze, I can go out for my normal run. I, once again LIVE.

July 31, 2011

Right beneath my balcony is a mulberry tree. Summer time, its leaves over grow and its branches spread everywhere. My balcony is practically sitting on top of that tree. I really do not mind the tree. I enjoy watching its branches waving back and forth with each breeze from the Sea. When the afternoon sun is so strong and the temperature becomes unbearable, the tree with its broad branches casts a shadow to my balcony, creating a lovely and inviting place to sit and cool off.

However, the only problem is; my laundry wire intersects with the tree. Winter when the tree is bare, it is not a problem. Summer, I often find my laundries tangled with the branches. Last week I tried to use a long stick to knock down some overgrown branches, but in vain. I was either not strong enough or my arms were too short to reach the branches. Eventually I gave up. This morning, when I hang my laundries, I notice something different about the tree. I did not really become aware of it until I hang my laundries. The overgrown branches are no longer there. Someone, sometime during the week, when I was not around, quietly climbed up to the tree and cut down those branches for me.

When I first moved in to this small, dusty and antique apartment compound, I hated the attention. Kids would be chasing after me; housewives followed my moves and whispered endlessly about me, and men, of course, stared at me intensively. I tried to be graceful and said my “salam” to all of them. Overtime, slowly and surely they have accepted me. Today, I realize not only that they have accepted me, they actually adopt me, watch over me as well. Perhaps last Sunday, someone accidentally saw me struggling with the tree; he/she decided to give me a helping hand.

I am moved, deeply touched by his/her kindness. My eyes become watery as I hang my last piece of laundry on the wire. Thank you neighbor, whoever you are. I will ask Allah to watch over you and your family, like the way you have been watching over me.

July 18, 2011

Unexpected news arrives today from home....

Although I have long believed that time could heal all scars, today I can once again feel, deep and quick, the pain of a long distant past, the pain of a fruitless relationship, the pain of that day's parting in Philadelphia. The pain, for a moment over whelms me. It is the time like this that I wish I was not alone.... but I am, so I weep, cry and sob......

It was more than 18 years ago that we met. The memory of that moment had been imprinted vividly enough to last for all these years. I don't remember the granular detail, but I remember the essence of how it happened, and that is enough...

I will miss him, everyday of my life.

July 15, 2011

Pick up a book from Peace Corps office, “My Everest Story”, it is a book about a young man climbing all the dangerous mountains since he was 13 years old. By the time he reached 16, he already acquainted with some of the best known climbers in the world, shared with them the hardship and the joy of Everest experiences. Although the book mentioned that he was just a regular kid, for me he is an exceptional human being. His philosophy of climbing is so different from that of other climbers. Mark Pfetzer is his name.

Mark and I have a few things in common. First, it is the dreams-to-reality ratio, we both score high. Similar to Mark’s belief, once I decide to take on a skill or an activity or a dream, I become committed. I learn, prepare and immerse myself so intensely that success is not only predictable but inevitable. A discipline, so many people I know is lacking. I wish there was a “Commitment” major in every university so the youngsters could learn the importance of holding on their dreams and not giving up easily. Reinhold Messner (a world renowned Everest climber) once said that climbing Everest is “Not strength”, he said, “but will. Will makes the body go up like an arrow”. A truism I found repeated often throughout my life - “If there is a will, there is a way”.

It was nearly 15 years ago that one of hiking club friends told me that she wanted to do something big. I was excited for her. After a while, I realized that was all talk. She did nothing to prepare for that “BIG” dream. Today, she is still moaning and groaning how unhappy her life is, how difficult to achieve anything. She blames her English, because she can not speak English well. I nearly wanted to ask her why she dropped out of her English class after just a few months. And today I saw similar problem exist among other PCVs. Some of them did not realize that coming to Azerbaijan is only the beginning of their commitment to Peace Corps, behaving like a truth Peace Corps Volunteer and remaining until the end of their service are the biggest part of their commitments. It is disappointing to see them quit so easily for whatever reason that they think is justifiable, or behaving like a typical “bad American” in front of the Azeri.

Again, it all comes down to “Commitment”, the simple secret to success. Joining Peace Corps was a big commitment that I made in 2006. Back then, I had to worry about a big mortgage, an obligation to my aging parents and a lot of consequences to consider before making that big step. It was a 3-year painstaking process, but I remained committed.

Today, nearly at the end of my service, I feel proud, another milestone, and other accomplishment I set out to do. Looking back the past 21 months, not a single moment that I thought about quitting. It has taken me so long to get this far, so quitting was, is and never will be my option, for I truly believe in Commitment.

July 10, 2011

The temperature in the shade is 43C or 110F, not a drop of breeze in the air. What happens to the Baku gale? For two days, my town has been steamy hot like hell. In the afternoon, the entire street is deserted. You can find men, cats, dogs, chickens, ducks, cab drivers and street cleaning ladies all squat under a tree, any tree they could find just to escape the unbearable muggy heat. Maybe it is coincident; the authority decides to cut off running water from 10am to 7pm, so you have to clean yourself with your own sweat.

Days like this, you should stay away from local buses, walk rather than sit inside a crowded minibus with smelly Azeri men for they do not believe in taking shower everyday, even in a boiling hot summer. Most buses have air-condition, but they never intended to be used. If you try to open the window, the old lady sits next to you would order you to SHUT the window. If you refuse, someone would shame you. How could you offend an old lady! “Don’t you have a grandmother at home!” they said.

After running, I pass by a store to get a cold drink; sorry, the refrigerator is only for show. The drink is not cold, even the beer is hot. “You will catch a cold if you drink cold water” the store owner tells me. Now, I understand why those men in the tea house would drink HOT tea even they are soaking wet from the hot sun, why my co-workers roll their eyes when I told them I took cold shower in the summer, and why water melon is not chilled to eat, and why little babies are all wrapped up with layer of blankets in summer, BUT BUT BUT, they all love ice cream. Isn’t ice cream cold? They swim in the Caspian Sea, isn’t the sea water cold?

Would someone please explain all these to me?

(These kids are from my neighborhood, I love them, they are all out of school and love to say Hello! Hello! Hello! to me. )

July 4, 2011

Early this morning, received a text message:

“My dear friend and teacher, u are the best, I now getting on the bus. I gonna leave home to army, I wont forget u, Bye, I love you”

It is a message from a nice young man. For a few months, we worked together on the “Junior Achievement Program Azerbaijan” project, helping six local high-school students to compete with the annual event. After the end of the project, I also helped him to finalize his college research paper. He has been treating me like his big sister, a mentor.

He is an upright, very good-natured young man: polite, passionate, gentle and kind. He speaks English very well but still wants to improve his level, so I ordered an advanced TOFEL book with CD from the US and gave them to him as a gift. When he held the book in his hands, he was nearly in tears. He wanted give me a big hug but it is an “Olmaz” in the Azeri society, so he kept telling me that he loved me. (I am sure, it is the friendship kind of love”) He just graduated from college this summer and has to join the army for one-year. Knowing that he probably would not see me again, so he texted me with his final farewell and made sure his family would be available for me if I need any help. I am touched, deeply moved by his gesture.

Nearly three years ago in Peace Corps New York regional office, I explained to the recruiter my motive to join Peace Corps. I told them that I did not expect that I could change the world or even change anyone’s life by joining the Peace Corps. However, if because of my present, somehow, someway, I touched one or two individuals’ lives, and had some impact on their future, I had done my job as a volunteer.

I know this young man’s life will never be the same again. Before meeting Susan and I, he knew nothing about Peace Corps, and had no contact with any American or foreigner. He confessed to me once that he had problem understanding why I was in Azerbaijan, why I would be willing to leave the comfort of my home, live in a foreign country, and work with strangers for nothing. However, he showed his admiration, and willingness to do the same for his country in the future.

I left him with Peace Corps contacts in Baku, hoping that next year when he returns from the army, he would apply for the LCF position and work with more Americans. He has a lot of potentials, just needs someone to unlock them and that is why I am here.

I still remember his smile, his tearful eyes……..I hope I will see him someday, I hope he will excel.

June 25, 2011

Before joining Peace Corps in 2009, I worked for three multi international organizations and dealt with many senior executives. I have to admit, never once did I feel connected with them. Majority of them built a wall around them, remained “professional” all time and occasionally they tried to be personal or funny with me, nevertheless I did not feel their sincerity. One of them was a CEO, and he was alcoholic, used drugs to conceal his loneliness and desolation. Eventually he lost his job. Today, he still has money, but that is all that he has. Another executive I know is old enough to retire, but he does not know what to do with his retirement. He fears to sit and die alone at home. Years of climbing the corporate ladders have left these people in isolation. They have lost touched with others and most importantly, they have forgotten how to be human.

Contrary, ten years traveling abroad, I have met many working class folks, not so well-to-do locals. I found most of them were down to earth, warm, caring, had a sense of humor, and always generous and giving. Some of them were very poor, could not afford to be generous but were still willing to give. Their hospitality was the most genuine and they expected nothing from return. I met these folks in Nepal, in Venezuela, in China, in Peru, in Tanzania and in many remote parts of the world. Today, I met a few in Azerbaijan.

One of them is a street vendor, selling greens on a side walk, probably making just few dollars a day. Each time I passed him, he would give me the warmest greetings; hold my hands as if I was her closest relative. Another one is an amiable old man. I happened to pass by his home one day. He was tending his small garden, and I watched him picking fruits from his trees. As soon as he saw me, he grabbed a basket of fruits and offered them to me. His silver grey hair glittered in the afternoon sun, like the halo of an angel. They both were strangers to me, but somehow, I felt the connection.

Perhaps that is why I choose to be a Peace Corps Volunteer. It gives me the opportunities to connect with people like them; kind, generous, still have the old value, culture, still believe in happiness could derive from simple life.

Another four months, I will have to return to that strange cold place where I once called home. I am beginning to have fear…….

(local summer fruit, they are sweet, sweet and sweet)

June 11, 2011

The plant I brought back from Georgia last summer is growing nicely. Two weeks ago, I discovered a small bud. I was elated. Every morning, I gave my plant a cold shower, and watched the bud getting bigger and stronger. Last night, it finally bloomed.

This plant is similar to the one that I had in my New York apartment. They have the same type of leave. My plant in New York only bloomed at night and the bloom usually lasted just a few hours. It died around midnight. The size of the flower is enormous and it is absolutely beautiful. (I know, all flower is beautiful to me). This one appears to be slightly different, but I am sure they are related to the same family.

Yesterday morning, I noticed the tip of the flower burst; it is a sign of “ready to bloom”. I brought it inside and took pictures of its every move. By 10:00pm, the flower opened up more, now I could see the hollow inside the flower. When I went to bed, the flower was still alive and this morning, I found the flower grew even bigger. She said “salam” to me. I was having a wonderful morning.

To make my morning even better, I decided to make some scallion pancakes (all of PCV friends know I make the best scallion pancake) to go with my coffee. I had my plant next to me. We enjoyed each other’s company, ate pancake, drank coffee and had a fabulous time.

Remember what Edward Abbey once said: “We can never have enough of nature”. Amen. Amen and AMEN!

June 8, 2011

Clouds are gathering, storm begins to build but it has not rained yet. Soon I can hear the thunder mutters ominously in a distance, lightning flashes and the storm moves closer. Suddenly a clap explodes directly overhead and lightning pierces the gloom. Eventually clouds burst, rain begins to fall. At first, tentatively, soon, gaining confidence, heavily. Before long, rain lashing down in torrential sheets whips my bedroom window surface. I sit and watch the sky weeps. I LOVE rain!

No one whom I know is as enamored of a rain as I do. I always fancy the rain, especially the one that comes late at night. It has a steady and soporific rhythm that could induce me not only to sleep but also to dream…..

Outside, loud peals of thunder crash and reverberate in the darkness. Rain continues to come streaming down. I close my eyes and eager to start my dream….. I hope tonight, I will see my loved one again.

Wake up early in the morning, already forgot the forgotten dream. Look outside the bedroom window, the sun gleams out of ragged clouds, birds are singing and rain, no more. I open the window to let in some fresh air, a horrible odor hits me, it is the raw sewage again! I should have known better. Every time when it rains, most of the alleys and streets in my neighborhood would be flooded. All the “ugly & smelly” stuffs would ooze out from underground and inundate the sidewalks. The pipe systems in Azerbaijan are abysmal and they desperately need to be replaced, but it is not the priority of “X” (not allowed to criticize per PC policy). I shut the window and try to make myself a cup of coffee and ……NO WATER!

Oh well, I do not get frustrated anymore. Occasionally no water, no electricity and no gas are just part of daily life here in Azerbaijan. The only thing that bothers me is the water bill; it was once 0.8 manat ($1.0) and now is 2.32 manat ($3.0).

I dry clean myself a little, pick up a book and begin to relax. It is a book about nature, my kind of book, and a story about rain, my favorite subject!

I still LOVE rain, even here in Azerbaijan….

June 1, 2011

It was six months ago that I first met this Azeri gentleman in the park. At first, he just stared at me, few days later; he began to say “salam”. Few weeks later, he stopped me and started talking to me. Although I could not fully understand what he was saying, I could hear some “danger” words, like “chox” (very much) “sevimli” (love) “xoshma gelin” (like), cay ichmek (drink tea). Watching his expression, I further convinced myself that I had understood him correctly. I was very flattered, but did not like those words at all. If he were an Asian man, I probably would tell him to get lost. I did not want to hurt his feeling, so politely, I told him “thank you, thank you” “don’t like tea, No” and “goodbye”.

One spring day, running by the sea, I saw him again. He was with a group of Azeri gentlemen. This time, he did not stop me, just waved and said “salam”. As usual, I said my “salam” as well. Couple of days later in the same wooded area, we met again. This time, he was alone, in fact, he was waiting for me. As soon as he saw me, he approached me and started using those “danger” words again, and this time, he used them a lot! With my broken Azerbaijani, I tried very hard to explain to him that I was married (of course I lied). He understood me all right, but still was reluctantly to let me go. His body language was telling me that “yes, you are married, I am married, so what”. Oh good God, I was embarrassed. Before I had a chance to run away, he held my hand and started kissing it. IT IS AN OMAZ! (Forbidden in Azeri society).

Now he was holding both of my hands, grinning at me, showing me all his 24k gold teeth. (that means he is quite well off) Maybe for the Azeri women, he is a handsome and rich middle age man, but to me, he is not so desirable (don’t want to use the “u” word), especially with all those yellow teeth. Again, I told me that I was married. Turning around, I ran as fast as I could.

This afternoon, he was there again and this time, he was NAKED! I was not sure he was completely naked for I could only catch his upper body. I really did not want to see the rest. He yelled out “Salam”. I pretended that I could not hear him and ran out of the wood like a shooting bullet. Good God, what did I get myself into!

Maybe starting tomorrow, I need to change my running route

May 28, 2011

Today is Azerbaijan independent holiday. Get up early in the morning. Clean the apartment, do laundries and hang them outside, have a healthy breakfast: coffee, French toast (local whole wheat bread) and home made fig jam. Afterward, head out to the Bazaar.

Weekend in the Bazaar usually is very busy. I get there a bit early; some of the fresh vegetables have just arrived. Spring ends soon and summer is approaching, varieties of vegetables are already available in the market, and the prices are getting cheaper; cucumber 3 kilo for $1.25, cauliflower used to be so expensive in the winter, and now is only $1.0 for a kilo. Beet is my favorite root vegetable. The young one has thin smooth skin and dark burgundy color. It looks like a ruby gem. My vegetable man shows me some fresh oriental beans, which are still inside a pod. He opens one and let me taste it. It is so tender and sweet! The price of cabbage comes down significantly as well, only $0.5 a kilo. Some of the vegetables actually come from someone’s gardens; they are freshly picked just this morning!

I am overjoyed by all the fresh fruits and vegetables. I purchase a kilo of apple to make cabbage salad for lunch. This is a healthy dish I experimented last summer, all my friends loves it. Simply cut the apple and cabbage to thin strip, add salt and black pepper, few drops of sesame oil. The final touch is two teaspoons of ginger vinegar, put in the refrigerator for an hour to chill. It is healthy, tasty and inexpensive. As for the fresh oriental beans, I will steam it with the cauliflower, add only salt and pepper. They will definitely go well with my homemade vegetable dumplings. That will be my dinner tonight, yum yum!

Return home, cutting all the vegetables, make a big bowl of salad. After lunch, take a long stroll in the park, bring home some wild roses and sit by the kitchen window, watch the day fade…..my day slips by unnoticed. I have grown to love more and more this effortless, uncomplicated and peaceful life style, it really soothes me. This, I reckon, is how life is meant to be….. At this moment, New York seemed distant, tenuous and marginally real….

Peace Corps encourages us to extend our service for another year, it even adds another 100 manat ($125) to our monthly living allowance, AND, a job offer from the bank ….. tempting, really tempting…..

May 17, 2011

Last Saturday, Azerbaijan won the Euro Vision Song contest, an annual popular event that is widely celebrated in Europe and Central Asia. The contest was held in Germany, the winner of last year. These few days, every Azeri TV channel broadcasts the event nearly 24 hours a day, and the winning song is being played repeatedly every hour. You can feel the elation from every Azeri, young or old, male or female.

More than 45 countries take part this once a year competition, and among all the contestants, Azerbaijan perhaps is the least recognized nation. To win the contest over some strong competitors like Germany, Spain and France, it is undeniably a dream comes true for the Azeri. They should be proud.

These past few days during my daily exercise, I greeted my Azeri friends and strangers (even the horrible teenagers) with “təbrik edirəm” (I congratuate you). As soon as I cheered them, a crowd would gather around me, shake my hands, thank me and offer me “çay” (tea). The teenagers even wanted to run with me just to show their friendliness. I feel their excitment, their pride and their joy, and I am honor and deeply moved by their willingness to share their “National Pride” with a stranger like me.

Being a winner this year, next Spring Azerbaijan will be a host state to organize the competition. The occasion will bring in many tourists to this country, increase international awareness of this small nation, hopefully will boost its economy, and ultimately increase the wealth of its people.

I am proud for being a Peace Corps Volunteer in Azerbaijan!

Here is the news:

The Eurovision Song Contest brought in 120 million viewers this year and was aired in 55 countries....

Azerbaijan, a tiny country that is lush with natural resources, won the competition and as a result will host the event next year. The winner surprised experts who had expected countries such as France, Ireland or the U.K. to win. Azerbaijan is a country with a large Shiite Muslim population that has suffered from a longtime border conflict with nearby Armenia.

The winning performance was by the duo Ell and Nikki with the song “Running Scared,” which won with 221 points. Concerns are already being raised as to the country’s ability to host next year’s Eurovision, mostly from the popularity of the event with the gay population. Azerbaijan legalized homosexuality in 2001, but Muslim countries generally aren’t tolerant towards individuals expressing these freedoms.

Eurovision began in the early 1950s to test TV linkups across country lines. The participating countries were also interested in creating a good rapport with each other. Communist authorities attempted to stay out of the event and even tried to start their own, but the popularity of Eurovision could not be denied.

May 11, 2011

As a foreigner, especially being an American, PCV is often regarded by the Azeri as a “Rich American”. They assume every American is well-off. First day at work, the opening question from my co-workers was “How much money do you make in America?”, and the 2nd question, “Can you take me with you to America?” and when I asked what they were planning to do in America, their answer was “Stay with you! You have money”

One time I made a mistake by offering my co-worker a pack of 3-in-1 coffee. Afterward, he asked me for coffee every morning. Finally, I had to stop drinking coffee at work to avoid being asked again. Another time, another employee asked me for money. At first, I assumed he just needed some changes for a pack of gum, so I gave him a manat ($1.25). He took it and never paid me back. When he later asked me for more, I demanded for an explanation. He simply smiled and said “you are an American, you have money”. A week later, a credit manager approached me and wanted to borrow 100 manat ($125). I knew if I lent him the money, I would never see my money again, so I declined. A kid in my neighborhood saw me one day. He held out his hand and asked me for money “You are an America and you work at the bank, you have money, give me money”. I was utterly furious by their behavior! Where are their pride, their grace and their dignity?

I was poor once. I earned my college degree by washing dishes in the university kitchen and mopping the cafeteria floor until midnight. After graduation, I could only afford to buy a cheap “Sears” suit for a job interview. During the interview, I was honest and humble for who I was. I told the interviewer (partner of a prestige accounting firm) my struggle and hardship during the school years. He was impressed and offered me a job on the spot. First day reported to work, I wore the same “Sears” suit and received a few stares. Of course, I was embarrassed, but I would rather be embarrassed than asked money from friends to make myself look “expensive”. My point is: there is NOTHING wrong for being poor. We can not help for being WHO we are, but we can choose to be WHAT we are. If we let money to define us, we lose our self respect!

Fortunately, my female Azeri friends at work are more gracious. They never asked me for anything, contrary, they often offered me their foods when we had tea together. So, not all Azeri is as gluttonous as the three creatures I encountered. Perhaps they are just a few bad apples, not necessary representing most people in Azerbaijan.

May 6, 2011 – Wild Flowers

I suspect that my previous life I was a flower, for I love flower. These couple weeks, my apartment is full of flowers, and they smell just WONDERFUL!

The April shower finally ends. Weather in May is just lovely. The temperature is getting warmer and plenty of sunshine every day. The day is also getting longer. After work, I can not wait to head out for my run/walk. There are plentiful of flowers inside the park, but I only fancy the wild ones. Wild flowers particularly appeal to me because of their unique characters. Usually they are not so flamboyant, but subdue, not so colorful but still attractive, and most of them have a short but strong and productive life. Inside the park, there are wild flowers everywhere, but you have to know where to look for them. They tend to grow in secluded locations where “The Place No One Knew”.

Last year, I accidentally discovered four wild Lilac bushes hidden behind some desert shrubberies. So this year since April, I have been visiting the plants diligently, watching young leaves unfold everyday and finally clusters of purple flowers appear. Two days ago, I climbed over the fence, dug myself into the underbrush, created a parade for the locals to watch, and got my Lilac! Beside the Lilac, there was a yellow flower that caught my attention last year as well. Initially, I could not locate them, just kept smelling this wonderful fragrant as soon as I entered to the “Lover Lane” (a green tunnel where all the young Azeri lovers like to linger). I searched and searched, of course received lots of dirty look from the “Azeri Lovers” and eventually stumbled upon a ditch and nearly killed myself. As I picked myself up and looked to the ground, Ah! Here they were, those infinitesimal yellow flowers were looking back at me and gave me a warm welcome smile.

When the yellow flowers are in full bloom, they give away such a powerful, sweet aroma that they attract lots of bees. Yesterday, I risked being stung by a bee and picked tons of them home to decorate my apartment. Now, I can smell them when I am writing my journal and tonight I can smell them in my dream. Every morning when I get up, I say “hello” to all my flowers, give them a cold refreshing bath, and they absolutely LOVE it. How do I know? Because they told me!!!

Each day, I am more and more convinced that, once upon a time, I was indeed a flower. Perhaps, a wild flower.

(Morning, time for a cold shower girls!)

May 2, 2011 – Gossips, Gossips, endless Gossips

Gossips among the Peace Corps Volunteers are notorious. One time, a PCV conducted an experiment to see how fast and how far a rumor could travel. She made up a story and asked another PCV to spread the news. Within a short period of time, the rumor came back to her with vivid details.

We, PCVs live in a foreign land. Our friends and relatives are thousand and thousand miles away. We only have each other to entertain or to comfort ourselves. PCV community is extremely small. If you have a site mate, he/she inevitably becomes your buddy. Some PCVs hardly have enough work to fill their week or even day, so they travel, visit another PCVs, hangout, eat, drink and what else? TALK!

For more than a year, I had no site mate. I kept myself busy, worked at the bank every day, set up routine task, did my daily exercise, read, cooked and read more. No gossip reached Sumgayit, the town I live. I was 100% out of that circle. One time, a young PCV visited me and asked me about a rumor of other PCV, and my response was “I have no idea who is X” (we have more than 100 PCVs in Azerbaijan, it is hard to keep track with who is who, really!)

“Where the hell have you been Chi!!”

She got very frustrated with me because I could not add more “juice” to her story. From that point me, no one voluntarily fed me anymore gossip. Thank God!

Last week, we received an email from our country director. The sole purpose of that e-mail was to dismiss some BIG rumors that had been going around and were being ignited like the fireworks of 4th of July. Each time those rumors traveled, they became bigger, more colorful and “Juicier”. I am sure our country director has better thing to do. For her to write such an e-mail, you can image how bad the situation has been. As usual, I know nothing about those rumors. I go on with my life in Sumgayit, concentrate my work at the bank and with the local community, continue to be a “dull” but good old Peace Corps Volunteer.

Years ago, I did not mind listening to gossips (well, I was much younger then). One time, I heard a rumor about me. The story was completely fabricated, but it was so painful that I went home cried for days. So I know how hurtful a gossip could do to another human being and how much chaos a rumor could create for a situation. During the PCV training, I was watching a young PCV gossiping endlessly about other PCVs. I watched her facial expression, could not help but feeling sad for her……

If you really have nothing to do, please read a book, take a long walk, go for a run, pick some wild flowers, breath fresh air, cook a meal, play with local kids,…….do anything, anything that keeps you away from gossiping, for gossip adds nothing to your brain.

April 23, 2011

Peace Corps living allowance annual survey is out. In order to make the survey more meaningful, we are urged to itemize our daily expenditures. In fact, a quantitative and qualitative analysis would be more preferable. I was always a good student at school; so I followed instructions and dutifully completed the survey timely.

Young PCVs tend to complain how meager the monthly allowance is. Well, they are young, they are entitled to have fun, to visit other site mates, to travel outside of Azerbaijan, to have a few drinks, to take taxi, to eat at a local restaurant and of course, to be in Baku enjoying the city life occasionally when they are tired of the harsh village life where they serve. Besides, to do community project, sometimes, they need money to buy materials. So, I agree with them 100%, the monthly allowance from Peace Corps is insufficient.

I live in an expensive town, not far from Baku. In fact, I am the first volunteer placed in this town. Because it is so close to the capital, the rent is disturbing expensive. But I have a nice apartment, perhaps the best apartment ever rented by any PCVs’. Of course, it comes with a price, a high price. Even with the extra housing allowance from Peace Corps, 90% of my monthly allowance goes to rent. I could have rented a DISGUSTING (i.e. leaking pipes, smelly and broken toilet, dusty carpet, uninvited insects and animals running around etc.) place for around 250 manats, but I have made my choice. My home is my nest, it is important to me. I need it to comfort myself when I have a bad day, to run away from the dreadful teenage boys, to keep myself relatively warm in winter and most importantly, to cook myself a healthy dinner. I would not have been able to survive if I had to constantly argue and wait for my landlord to fix my apartment. I heard too many horror stories!

In exchange for a nice apartment, I have to give up many things. I can not afford to travel often, to visit my PC friends, to eat out, to have a drink or even to buy a kilo of banana or apple (average 2.5 manats a kilo) once a week. My daily diet includes many local cheap vegetables: carrot, potato, spinach, cabbage and onion. I probably ate more cabbage here in a month than a year in American. (Cabbage soup, cabbage salad, cabbage pickle, stir fried cabbage with garlic etc). Last month, I had a digestion problem because I ate too much cabbage. PC doctor had to drug me so I can continue to live on with cabbage.

Once in a blue moon, I felt sad. I had a good life in American. I was once spoiled by the “Wall Street” lifestyle and literately could buy anything I wanted, and eat anywhere I desired. Now, I could not even afford to buy myself a hamburger and a beer. Of course, I could have used my own money, but every time when I tempted to do so, I felt very mortified.

I remember the promise that I made to myself two years ago. I am determined to live like the locals, to live within the budget of Peace Corps allowance, and to live like a real Peace Corps Volunteer. I do not have to eat out, I can cook myself a nice cabbage dinner, I do not need a beer, and I can drink water. I do not have to see Vivian and Carol every month, we can e-mail to each other. I want to experience the kind of life that most Azerbaijan people experience. My co-worker in the bank only earns 250 manats a month, and he has two children, an aging mother and a wife to feed. If he can do it, so can I. I only have to live like this for another six months; my co-worker most likely will have to live poorly for the rest of his life!

So I hit the “Send” button and e-mail my respond with the utmost honest answer.

April 14, 2011

It is a pale morning, the sky speaks of rain to come. I open my kitchen window, a frigid air flows in; it does have a rainy smell. While New York is having 17C degrees warm temperature, this part of the world is still cold and damp. Soon, rain comes streaming down. I watch the storm rage with thunder and lightning and feel no urge to leave my apartment for work. It is already mid April; winter still lingers and does not want to go away. I decide to stay home and work on my resume.

So far, I have already applied for seven Federal jobs. The application process is tedious and extremely time consuming. Each job application requires a unique tailor federal style resume. The content must include personal profile, professional and personal strengths, experiences, duties, and responsibilities, and accomplishments. On top of that, I still have to write pages and pages of essay about KSAOs (Knowledge, Skills, Abilities and Other Characteristics.) No wonder so many applicants got frustrated with the paper works and eventually gave up.

“You have to complete the paper-work to beat out your competition. Treat it just like another summit you want to reach, you can do it!”

words of wisdom from a friend, so, I started the process in January and spent three months to write and rewrite, edit and re-edit, finally came up with a satisfactory draft, 8-page long resume and 10-page KSAOs! Each time I apply for a position, I still have to rephrase my work experiences in such a way that they match up with the job descriptions, so by no mean my resume is finished. It will be an on-going battle until I receive a job offer.

After spending four hours on my resume, I get tired. Looking outside the window, I see clouds still hang somber, still drips rain, but it has lessened. I make myself a light lunch and determine to head out for my daily run/walk afterward, rain or no rain. When I am ready to go, rain ceases. By the time I reach the park, the sun is already shining through fluttering leaves, which all seem to sprout after the rain. Within half hour, the entire park goes through a complete transformation. I am enveloped by sunlight and warm air. Spring creeps in unknowingly and the morning rain signals the final departure of winter. My spirits is uplifted by the sudden changes and I feel elated and energetic, so I run and run until my leg muscle aches.

No doubt, I fancy Spring. Spring in New York is lovely. The magnolia tree growing by the street corner of my New York apartment must be in full bloom now, soon it will come the purple lilac, my old love. Here in Azerbaijan, Spring is just as attractive. I notice the miniature blue flower appearing everywhere in the neighborhood. It resembles the “Forget-Me-Not” blossom I once saw in Alaska. The plant draws to the sunlight. On a sunny day, the flowers unfold and audaciously radiate their shapes and color in front of every pedestrian, but no one pays any attention to the plant except me! Last week, I plucked a few and brought home to decorate my desk. They have been greeting me happily since.

On my way out of the park, I pass by a small dirt trail bisected by a dead tree trunk rotting back to new life, and a fresh daisy already blooming beside it. Ah, I love Spring, everything is so alive!

Then, it dawns on me that today is my birthday! No wonder I love Spring. One special April day indeed!

(I started my own little garden last year, the Chinese night-blooming plant is growing bigger. This plant is from Georgia, a place I visited last summer)

March 7, 2011

Woke up late Friday morning, light snow is falling and I do not feel like to go to work. (Good thing about being a volunteer, you are not obligated to work!). Sitting by the kitchen table, I warm up my fingers with a cup of steaming hot coffee. Feeling unusually content, I watch a cheerful bird leaping up and down between the branches of a giant Pine outside my kitchen window. The snow in March is just a teaser, it does not last. I smell Spring already!

I am idle for the rest of the day; read some books, cook lunch, read more and work on my book for a few hours, after an hour of yoga, cook dinner. Before long, the day dims and I stretch out to watch the dark clear sky outside my balcony. It is a moonless night and the stars grow thicker and brighter. Besides feeling a twinge of nostalgia for a special friend, I am absolutely content.

Here in this foreign land, I grow to enjoy the seemingly dull chores; hanging my laundries on the wire, smelling their raw freshness from the sun, peeling potatoes and chopping vegetables in the kitchen, rolling a flour dough for my dumplings, eating a coarse local bread when my allowance is low or simply holding a cup of tea and listening to the sound of the frigid wind from the Sea, the contentment of doing one thing at a time or nothing at all.

I am alone most of the day, but I am never lonely! I realize I have reached as Sigurd Olson wrote,

“ the point where days are governed by daylight and dark, rather than by schedules, where one eats if hungry and sleeps when tired, and becomes completely immersed in the ancient rhythms, then one begins to live”.

Amen!

March 7, 2011

Susan, my site mate and I have been working on a community project since February, helping five school students to prepare their Junior Achievement Award competition. For the first time, I feel like a REAL Peace Corps Volunteer. I enjoy spending less and less time in the bank, and take pleasure in helping those ambitious and certainly bright and cheerful Azerbaijan youngsters.

Our job is to help those students to develop a business plan for their project, an Art Shop. The final product will be a PowerPoint presentation both in English and in Azerbaijani. The students will deliver their plan orally in front of the judges and answer questions if needed. The competition will be held in Baku mid May. Working for AXA, the French insurance company for nine years, I spent most of my working years preparing quarterly financial results in a PowerPoint format for the CEO, CFO and other senior executives. My knowledge in this area was once considered by my colleagues as highly skillful, an “Expertise” in a way (sorry to be so cocky). I cannot wait to share my knowledge with them.

Five of them have lots of great and interesting ideas, just need to be more focus on their thoughts. We meet once a week, Susan and I go over what they prepared and give them some feedbacks. They are really a group of delightful teenagers. I enjoy seeing how their faces lit up when Susan and I praised their work.

This country has frustrated me in many ways. There are lots of things needed to be changed but unfortunately the necessary reforms have not yet be recognized by its people, or encouraged by its government. Only with better education and more open policies from the top, there will hope and brighter future for the Azeri people and generations come after.

I am not a politician and I hate to be one. I just know that if there is a budget line for “bribery cost” in a company annual plan, shamelessly and conspicuously be included in a pie chart with bright red color, something does not sound right.

The future of Azerbaijan lies on these young men and women, I hope they will excel and continue to excel when Susan and I leave them behind after Peace Corps.

March 2, 2011 – The “Why” Question

It has been over a year since I joined the Peace Corps. I am still being asked over and over again the same question, “Why did you join the Peace Corps?” The question came from surprisingly a variety of individuals; friends back home, strangers from internet, my host family, Azerbaijani and even my Peace Corps friends. I figure this question most likely will be asked again when I return to the United States, when I am going through a job interview, when I am “drunk” in the bar having a casual conversation with strangers, or when I travel back to Hong Kong and am interrogated by relatives, therefore, I should really prepare and come up with a short and sweet (according to RPCV, usually people lose their interest about PC story after 5 minutes) but convincing reason.

I contemplate the answer for quite sometimes now, instead of answering the question; perhaps I should begin with a series of question:

At one point of our life, we need to look into our heart and ask ourselves, is our own happiness enough to justify our living? Can we truly be happy when others suffer? Is it moral to ignore the needs of helping others? Can we continue to pretend there is nothing wrong to be selfish?

It is high time to “Giving it back!”

February 24, 2011

Sitting in my chilly apartment, I wait for the pot of water to boil. It has been more than an hour; the water just would not boil for the gas is very very low this evening. I have five layers of clothing on me and my fingers are still stiff and ice cold. I could not stand it any longer, I grab a rope and start jumping rope, the exercise the doctor advises me to do to keep warm.

After five minutes, I feel better, and then I become very hungry. I need foods, like….

creamy cheese cake, cheese puff, or even just a piece of cheese…

what about sweet and sour pork, roasted pork, or just a roasted pork bum,

Peking duck? By God, I would love to just smell it...

All right! I am not greedy, maybe just a bowl of egg fried rice…..Oh God, I am so hungry.

The water is still not boiling; I open a bag of salty cracker that my sister sent me. I eat it with some peanut butter and watch TV, it is BBC.

Some British lady complains that she could only afford to run a wash once a week because the utility bill is too high. Start doing it by hand lady!

She can only feed her kids with pizza, DID SHE SAY PIZZA? I am so hungry……

I open another bag of cracker, this time I eat it just plain with no peanut butter because I am running low on peanut butter as well…. and then I go to bed with a prayer “please god, let spring come soon, really soon”. I like Azerbaijan, but I hate the COLD!

Maybe tomorrow I can take a shower if the gas is back on…..Inshalla (God’s willing)

February 20, 2011

It has been snowing for two days, and this morning, the snow turns to freezing rain. What is the better way to spend a day indoor with a good book, “Eiger Dreams” by Jon Krakauer.

It was nearly fifteen years ago that I first read Jon Krakauer another infamous book “Into Thin Air”. His personal account of Everest disaster enthralled me and after I finished reading the story, I decided that I had to see this legendary mountain that claimed so many climbers’ life. I even thought about climbing it.

After enduring 28 days with subzero temperature, I finally reached Everest base camp, barely weighted 95 lbs, with greasy hair, charcoal face, smelly cloths and dirty fingers. That morning, looking up to the Western Cwm which led to the Lhotse face of Mt. Everest, I shivered in the bitter cold mountain air, realized that there were limits of my dreams. The dream of climbing Mt. Everest for me, not only was impossible, it was in deed suicidal. I gave up that dream and swore that I would never ever set foot on that hostile, barren and cruel land again. Seven years later, Jon Krakauer’s “Eiger Dreams” makes me relive those horrible moments.

It is easy, when you are young, to think that what you desire is what you deserve, to believe that if you want something badly enough, work hard towards it and at the end, you are entitled to have it. Everest experience had nudged me a little further away from that obdurate naive assumption. It taught me that not all dreams are attainable. There are limits for what we can and can not do in life. After Mt. Everest, I moved on to other dreams, dreams that may not be as grandeur as the dream of climbing Everest, but they were meaningful events that fulfilled my happiness, defined and enriched my life.

It is not the end of the world if we cannot achieve some of our dreams, but stop pursuing dreams, however, IS.

February 16,2011

It rained whole night last night.

When I walk to work this morning, suddently rain turns into snow. It is very pretty, remains me of New York. But then when I think about how cold it will get in my apartment, and how much my fingers and toes will suffer at work, the snow doesnot look so pretty any more.....

Arrive at the bank, the snow turns back into rain again....

February 15, 2011

Since the beginning of January, my fingers and toes have been so cold. Even when I put on warm gloves or wrap my hands around a cup of hot tea, they still would not warm up. The worse is; when the weather gets warmer, my fingers and toes turn red, begin to swollen and are itchy like hell. The symptom occurred last winter as well. It brings back memory of my childhood when I was in Hong Kong, I had the exact problem every winter. My grandmother used to soak my feet in a bowl of hot water to ease the discomfort. But since I moved to the US, the problem never reappeared. Even when I was in Nepal hiking to Mt. Everest base camp with temperature -18F, I was never troubled by the same symptom. Here in Azerbaijan, it happened again.

I mentioned the problem to Peace Corps doctor and immediately, he sent me to the Baku hospital for a skin scanning. He suspects that I have Raynaud’s disease and indeed, the test confirms it.

“When a person's body is exposed to cold, the blood vessels in the extremities become narrowed and slow down blood supply to the fingers and toes. In the case of an individual with Raynuad’s disease, these blood vessels narrow dramatically, causing troubling symptoms. Fingers and toes turn white due to a lack of blood, then blue as the blood sluggishly returns. As they warm and normal blood flow is re-established, they turn red”

Even though winter in Azerbaijan is relatively mild when compared to the winter in American, average temperature is still around 40F or 4C. In my apartment, I stayed near the kitchen, so the heat from cooking keeps me warm, but at the bank, it is a different story. My co-workers each place a “Peç” (a electric heater) next to them to keep warm. I have none. They tried to offer me one of their, but I did not feel right to take away their comfort. Instead, I just drank lots of tea. When the cold becomes so unbearable, I wear my gloves to keep my fingers warm. Of course, it creates unwanted attention of bank customers and sometimes, I have no choice but letting my fingers turn cold and numb. The prolong exposure to the cold, my childhood nightmare, therefore, returns.

But soon it will be Spring, soon it will be summer, soon I will be home in America and soon I will be warm. Knowing there is light at the end of the tunnel, I feel better. For now, I just have to deal with it.

January 30, 2011

It is bad enough to receive daily harassment from the local teenage boys, so when I discovered a “hate note” in my mailbox during the Peace Corps MSC (Mid Service Conference), my Peace Corps spirit was shattered. The note was from one of my fellow Peace Corps associates. Yes, it was not from the Azeri boys but from one of us. Looking at the note, I was confused first. I tried hard to rationalize as why such an offensive note would be written and direct to me personally. I expected support from my PCV friends, not attack. If we begin to turn on each other, what strength do I possibly still have to cope with those dreadful Azeri teenage boys tomorrow?

After turning the note to our country director, for the next five minutes, I felt isolated. I could not hear a word of what our guest speakers said. I was hurt, sad and just wish that someone would come over and tell me that the whole thing was a mistake. Fortunately, it did. The whole saga was over within half an hour, thanks to our country director. I received an apology and I was relieved to know that the note was not, in fact, mean to direct to me personally, and the whole matter was really a big joke. Standing in front of me was this little fragile sweet young girl whose name I could not even remember. She was shaking and nearly in tears. I accepted her apology wholeheartedly. She really had no reason to “hate” me, so I believe her. I HAVE to believe her. She is one of us!

Thinking back to my younger years, I often did foolish things like this. Even today, I still make the same mistake once in a whole. My elder sister and “J” often received my verbal and “e-mail” abuse. Although I really did not mean those awful words and deeply regret what I said and wrote to them afterward, it still would not make thing “whole” again. Like a nail hammered to a wall, even after it is removed, the scar is still there. The damage was done and no matter how sorry I was, I could not remove the hurtful feeling that I inflicted upon them.

Remember President Obama’s recent speech

“it’s important for us to pause for a moment and make sure we are talking with each other in a way that heals, not a way that wounds”

His wisdom echoes….

January 18, 2011

They say darkness does evil things to your mind. Winter in Azerbaijan, sunset begins 6:00pm and the sun does not come out again until next morning 8:00am. For 13 hours, there is total darkness around me. I stay in the bank for 6-7 hours, so that means, everyday, I only have 4-5 hours to see the light. I take fully advantage of these precious hours. Most PCVs stay indoor to get warm, I do the appositive. I stay out door to get warm as my apartment usually is ice-cold. Most importantly, the walking and running lift my spirits so the evil things would not get into my mind. (i.e. torture the Azeri teenage boys, quit the Peace Corps etc.)

Yesterday evening after my routine exercise, I was rewarded by the most magnificent sunset. It was around 5:50pm. I was crossing the street in my neighborhood. A car stopped in front of the traffic light. As soon as the driver saw me, he blew the horn to irritate me; he even started the engine to scare me. How much I hate those dreadful human beings! I ignored him and turned to the other direction. Here it was, the big orange sun looking back at me.

It was a cloudy evening. The overcast sky softened the intensity of the desert sun. I could look at the sun directly without hurting my eyes. The sun looked ten times bigger. It had the most brilliant color; not so red, maybe pink, more like orange, gorgeous absolutely stunning! I ran home and graphed my camera. In order to capture the sun, I had to stand in the traffic. I was aware that I would create such a stir that those teenage boys would be thrilled to harass me.

“The hell with them!”

Half way crossed the street; I stood between two traffic lanes. I let the drivers blow their horns, fresh their headlights or even make fun of me. I held out my camera and took three photos. As soon as I was done, I pointed to the sun. I wanted people around me to enjoy that moment as well.

“Nedir?”

No one seemed to appreciate what I saw.

Sadly to say, being in Azerbaijan more than 16 months, I observed that Azeri people are curiously blind to the natural beauty. The color of the sky, the sunset, the moon and the stars reflecting on the Caspian Sea, all leave them unmoved. Yet they would adore things like a new pair of “made in China” 4 inches high heel plastic shoes, a ridiculous flamboyant wedding dress (wedding is huge here!), a new hairdo and other artificial beauties. Numerous times, I showed my host sisters and my co-workers the pictures of American National Parks, none of them seemed to be moved by what they saw.

It was useless to argue.

January 15, 2011

My apartment has been so cold and my fingers suffer the most. At work, the bank also has no heat so, the prolong exposure of my fingers in a cold temperature makes all my joins inflamed and itchy like hell, (don’t really quite understand it). It is especially bad on my right hand. Now my right hand is ½ sizes bigger than my left hand. It happened last winter as well. Now at home, I have to wear gloves to protect all my fingers. Wrapping my fingers around a cup of hot tea also helps. It is fact of life here in Azerbaijan, so I just have to deal with it.

Yesterday I received a package from a friend in the States. It contained the book I ordered; “River” by Colin Fletcher. As I began to read it, I could not put it down. Sitting in my living room which was now slightly heated by a strong afternoon sunlight, I felt a bit warmer. My fingers were still puffed-up, but the hot drink helped to ease the discomfort. Reading the book and sipping the 3-1 coffee, I found myself unconsciously drifting into a world of Colin Fletcher. How much I had missed reading all the books I used to love at home. Peace Corps office has a lot of books, but it does not have or lacks of the kind of books I like. Shipping a book from the States to here, it costs a lot of money for my friends to do that. Luckily, I have a few individuals whom I can truly relay on and call them a “real friend”.

Winter here in Azerbaijan often makes PCV feel extra lonely and unhappy. We have to find a way to please ourselves. Young PCVs like to visit each other, cooking, drinking, partying or doing other crazy things to keep alive. According to statistic, average female volunteers tend to gain weight after joining the Peace Corps. As for me, I enjoy the coziness of a warm blanket with a good book, the kind of languid day I fancy. Colin Fletcher is one of my favorite adventure writers. He is regarded as the “Father of modern Backpacking”. I have a collection of his books at home. This book is about his latest adventure. At age sixty-seven, he decided to make a six-month single-handed, foot-and-raft expedition down the full length of the Colorado River. The kind of journey someday I hope I will venture.

I know this book will help me to survive in some of coldest and loneliest winter nights in Azerbaijan. I plan to take my time to read this book so it will last until the end of winter, but I really doubt that would happen.

Hi friends,

I just added pictures to all my old posts, make sure you go back to November and check them out.

Bye now