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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yesterday I had a small celebration with our Women's Club to celebrate Thanksgiving. We each brought or prepared something to share with each other (other than our wonderful conversation, of course). The teachers at our organization came and participated as well, adding additional zeal to an enjoyable meal.

While we ate, we talked about what we were thankful for. I learned many of the girls give thanks every day through prayer as a part of their religious traditions (which seemed like something I should practice more of myself). After eating, we were all (very) full so I suggested we play some games. It's interesting to me how even after my year here, I still have preconceived notions about what things I think the girls will or will not do. I had a few more physical "run around" games that I didn't think they would participate in, but those were the games which ended up being the most fun (and funny, especially when I was socked in the face by a flailing arm; this moment was so hilarious, the girls had tears from laughing so hard). During the day yesterday I had a few moments of profound gratitude. Gratitude for these new friends, for the opportunity to be here and doing the work I'm doing, for the laughter and shared hugs. I have much in my life to be thankful for.

As individuals, I think we can get lost in our complaints and caught up in our wants. I don't think there's anything wrong with either of those things per se. Our wants allow us to strive for something more and to pursue our goals in hopes of improving our lives. Complaining is normal, and if we're doing it right, it will be those complaints which lead us toward change. But it's also important to pause and recognize the (many) things we've been given; to stop, give thanks, and put our gratitude out into the world. If you're a person of faith, to God. I think in pausing to give thanks and in showing gratitude we open ourselves up to a heightened sense of awareness into our blessings. In giving thanks, we open ourselves up to becoming happier and more fulfilled.

Gratitude allows us to see our lives more clearly and to find within ourselves a fortitude which perhaps we did not recognize. Gratitude humbles us and allows us to stop thinking about what our lives lack and allows us to see, instead, how much our lives contain. I'm not saying we stop shooting for the moon or striving to make our lives or ourselves better, but I think we should also seek to recognize the things we have and the traits we possess; the things which allow us to be who we are today and in this particular moment.

I've been thinking recently how much I have to be grateful for. How blessed I feel to have been given the opportunities I have (and to have been able to recognize and seize hold of them). How truly lucky I am to have the family and friends that I do and to be here in Azerbaijan meeting new members of my family and making new friendships. To have an able body and mind, food to eat and a roof over my head. I wanted to write this post to remind myself in the times I overlook what I have to be grateful for or am, perhaps, a tad ungrateful, to pause and to give thanks.

And so I say, thank you.

The mission of Peace Corps and the three goals Volunteers work toward are as follows:

1. Helping the people of interested countries in meeting their need for trained men and women.2. Helping to promote a better understanding of Americans on the part of the peoples served.3. Helping to promote a better understanding of other peoples on the part of Americans.

Today in conversation club, our topic fell into goal two. I asked my students to go back to the days before they knew an American and to think about what they thought of America or Americans.

Something I had forgotten I had, but recently came across, was a note I received once from a man who attended a presentation on domestic violence I did with my organization. It was a month into my service at site and I was still learning. I didn't know much about Azerbaijan's policies and cultural norms, other than what I had been taught in pre-service training. Certainly, I wasn't yet sure how individuals and families cope with domestic violence issues. When my counter-part (CP) asked me to help him present, I said I was willing to discuss what options are available in America, but I didn't know enough about Azerbaijan to talk about domestic violence in AZ. He agreed.

During our presentation, I discussed how incidences of violence are reported to the police and how it's handled (or not) in America. I asked questions about how these incidences are handled in Azerbaijan. After the presentation, some of the women at the university stopped to ask me questions, one young man waited patiently to exit the room and shake my hand. As he shook my hand, he gave me a piece of paper. My CP happened to see this and asked what it was. I hesitated opening it in front of people, just a gut feeling, but with a little more coaxing (and grabbing) from my CP, I opened it. The note read "You speak about violence. Americans hate Muslims. They rape and kill women every day. Americans are one of the most violent nations in the world." My CP and the students I came with were furious. They thought it was disrespectful, but I just remember being embarrassed. It knocked a bit of the wind out of me; mostly because of how much truth was scrawled on those four lines.

As Americans, in the international community, we are known only as we are seen on the news or within the countries we have invaded or gone to war with. To an international observer, I cannot see in the past ten years (or so) where we have lived up to our reputation as one of the world's greatest nations. We may be the world's "most powerful," but we've taken that title by being bullies. For the past ten years we have been engaged in war. Since we entered Afghanistan, 13,000-34,000 civilians have been killed. This says nothing of the individuals who have lost their homes, families and livelihoods. In 2003, we invaded Iraq, we (finally) "left" in the middle of last year (seven and a half years later). In Iraq, approximately 122,000, civilian deaths have been reported. In one incident, an air raid near Lake Thar Thar in October 2007, 6 women and 9 children were killed. There were also claims of American soldiers raping and killing women. If these are what you see about America and you've never met an American, what would your opinion be?

The question I posed today to my group about America, stemmed from the note I mentioned earlier. I wanted to know what they thought of America. Many of the students' comments were kind. Most seemed to hold the opinion "like in any country, there are good people and there are bad people and it is not your nationality which is important." However, that wasn't the opinion of all the students.

I thought one of the most interesting comments was Ibrahim's "People in our country like America, but no one likes Americans." I will disagree with him briefly; I don't think the entire country believes this, that would be imprudent, but I would say there is a fair percentage who would find that statement to be true. Ibish (his nickname) went on to talk about how people want to go to America because of their democracy, economy and many opportunities, but certainly not because of the American people (at that point I laughed and said that I was obviously never inviting him to visit). A few other students chimed in, nodding in agreement. One student began to talk about the wretched years of George W. Bush, citing the various deeds of America during his time in office. He went on to discuss President Obama's initial rise in the international community, with the world feeling hopeful, only to take on the role of the Presidents who came before him. As another student so ardently put it, "He tells other countries what to do, when he should solve his own country's problems."

I recognize that my ability to openly and incandescently criticize my country (and its depravity) also reveals one of the greatest parts about being an American, our freedom. But recognizing my countries triumphs, doesn't mean I'm blind to its failings. It's these failings which I am frustrated and embarrassed by that sometimes make it difficult to work towards "helping to promote a better understanding of Americans on the part of the peoples served." Heck, sometimes I don't even understand Americans. However, I recognize that being honest with my students and admitting that I find these acts deplorable, I am helping to fulfill goal two. But, at times, they're tough conversations with an even tougher audience.

What it means to be a Peace Corps Volunteer (in Azerbaijan):

When traveling (or if you live in a city and discover new people on a daily basis), you will meet people who want to know your life story. They will be charmed (or dumbfounded) by your speaking of their language (little known by foreigners). If you're sociable, a bus driver might ask you to be his guest and buy you lunch. You will be invited to strangers homes and be their guest while you eat (and eat and eat). When you think you can't eat any more. You eat some more.

While in classes, you will laugh. You will find happiness when students discover an "ah-ha" moment and you will find frustration or sadness when you need to ask a student to leave or tell a student they cannot attend a class. You may be haunted by that moment for a few more days (weeks/months). You will find sadness when a female student stops attending classes because she recently became engaged and no longer has permission to attend. You will find excitement when a student leaves for a program abroad they applied for and were accepted to.

You will find harassment. People who follow you home or invade your personal space. You will discover moments of fear and uncertainty.

You will encounter moments of pure bliss, when after months of engaging in a conversation on a certain topic, finally, (finally!) a moment awakens an awareness in the individual you were trying to reach.

You will attempt a project and fail. You will start again and attempt a project and fail. You will attempt a project again. And fail. You will attempt a project again and fail, miserably. You will attempt a project again. And succeed. You will learn persistence.

You will be loved and you will love.

You will listen to the advice from others and follow it. You will listen to the advice of others and defy it. You will begin to discover your own way in your community and the boundaries you can push and others which you follow to the letter.

On bus trips, depending on the amount of tea and coffee you've consumed that day, you will find yourself in a situation which requires you to use a public rest area. Rest areas consist of a few bricks over a hole in the ground. If there's a line, you'll be able to hang out while other people take their turn squatting over the hole. You will learn how to pee while being observed and the subtle art of looking anywhere other than at the other person who is peeing while you're waiting in line. You will learn to get over any onlooker stage-fright and learn to pee quickly, mostly as a form of self-preservation, because the smell will, most certainly, kill you.

You will find there are either not enough hours in the day or far too many.

You will find generosity. People who are willing to help you find a street or escort you to a place you cannot find. You will discover people who are willing to come to your home when you have a leaky pipe or have been harassed by men who have frightened you so wildly, you called someone to come over. You will have people who invite you to their home for dinner or lunch (repeatedly).

You will cry. Sometimes for no reason. And you will feel stupid.

You will work with amazing people. People who are excited and eager to listen. Sometimes these aren't the people you expected to work with or the people you are initially assigned to.

You will work with people you secretly pray will be promoted, because if you secretly prayed they'd get hit by a bus and publicly wrote about it, people would judge you.

You will learn how to do laundry by hand, to unplug anything that uses electricity before leaving your house for the day, to heat your home with the stove, to live without dependable electricity, central heating or window fans. You will learn how (very) much you can live without.

You will take great pleasure in having English novels in your possession. Holding that book and reading in bed will be one of the greatest experiences of your life. You will find new members of your family. With them you will laugh and hug and share in each other's lives. If you have host siblings, and you consider them family, you will both love them and be frustrated by them. Especially if they are 17 year old twin boys (who you adore! but argh!).

You will discover a difference in the person you were during your first months at site and the person you become after a year, and although I don't know it yet, most likely after two years. You will find confidence and assurance in your site or in your work and begin to feel less trepidatious or anxious. You will find changes in yourself, mostly for the better, but you constantly wonder.

You will lose some of your English and you will have occasions where you speak to native English speakers in a slow English which you typically reserve for your non-native student speakers or friends (perhaps while on a Skype call or Gvideo chat with someone you find particularly good-looking or attractive); in these moments, you will feel especially idiotic.

You will wonder about the work you're doing (or lack of work you're doing). You'll wonder if it's serving a purpose and if you're doing what you came to do. You'll start to wonder what exactly it was you came to do.

You will make incredible friendships. These may be with people in your community or with other Peace Corps Volunteers.

You will discover, when you love what you're doing, the hours and moments of your work fly by and in approaching each month of service will exclaim "It's ______ already?!"

You will find moments of true, unadulterated, embarrassment. Embarrassment which you feel so keenly, its effects are felt long after the moment has passed, especially if you're lucky enough to have someone around to remind you.

Being a Peace Corps Volunteer is a challenge. It is a blessing. A curse. It is opportunity and defeat. It is learning and teaching. It is happiness and anger and frustration. It is joy and love and elation. Being a Peace Corps Volunteer brings out our best selves and has the potential to reveal our worst. It challenges our patience, our views and beliefs. It gives us hope. It gives us sadness. It is humbling. It is the discovery of our world's corners and crevices; areas of light and darkness we didn't know existed. It is humility. It is embarrassment and awkwardness. It is development; those of friendship, community, business and family. Being a Peace Corps Volunteer is a series of memories, moments and lessons which are guaranteed to last a lifetime, for both those who have touched our lives and for those whose lives we have touched.

This week, Muslims around the world observed the account of the Prophet Ibrahim (Abraham) and the (near) sacrifice of his son. The observation comes at the end of Hajj (the annual pilgrimage to Mecca) and typically lasts for around three days.

In Arabic, the observation is referred to as Eid Al-Adha or "Festival of Sacrifice." During the observation, individuals in Muslim nations often slaughter their own goat, sheep, cow or camel (in accordance to how the prophet taught its people and other animals cannot be used). In Azerbaijan, it is most commonly sheep.

The ritual symbolizes the life of Ibrahim and his devotion to Allah (the most important and well known story being that of God's request to sacrifice his own son and Ibrahim's willingness to do so). The story is known in the Muslim, Christian and Jewish faiths. (Although there is a disparity between which son, Isaac or Ishmael, was called upon to be sacrificed.)

The observation is one of importance (the second most important Muslim "holiday") and one which emphasizes community, sacrifice and giving to others.

Qurban Bayramı can be misunderstood by other nations. The slaughtering of animals as a ritual seen as archaic or barbaric. However, the slaughter of the animal symbolizes the trials faced by Ibrahim and is performed while observing dhabihah, an Islamic law which prescribes the appropriate way to slaughter an animal. The animal is shown compassion and respect and the rites are intended to ensure as little pain and suffering to the animal as possible. The name of Allah is spoken in recognition and remembrance that life is sacred. The meat is then given to others. Christine Huda Dodge writes:

The meat from the sacrifice of Eid al-Adha is mostly given away to others. One-third is eaten by immediate family and relatives, one-third is given away to friends, and one-third is donated to the poor. The act symbolizes our willingness to give up things that are of benefit to us or close to our hearts, in order to follow Allah's commands. It also symbolizes our willingness to give up some of our own bounties, in order to strengthen ties of friendship and help those who are in need. We recognize that all blessings come from Allah, and we should open our hearts and share with others.

Last year, at this time, I went to my clustermate's house and watched as his family slaughtered a sheep in observance of the holiday. Following the slaughter, a small bit of blood from the sheep was dabbed on the foreheads of those in attendance. (After further reading, I discovered this was not due to a rite of Islam, but instead comes from cultural traditions in Azerbaijan.) Watching the slaughter was, admittedly, difficult, but I also remember thinking how much better it would be if we respected our animals, and their deaths, the same way in the west. Although there are activist groups which disagree with this ritual (I read something ridiculous by PETA), I can't help but think this is far more humane and respectful than how we do things in the west.

The day, although seemingly strange to Westerners, is one which might be admired; the recognition of life and sacrifice, the giving of food to those less fortunate and the showing of respect and compassion toward an animal which gives its life for our consumption. These are something which we could all use a little more of in our lives.

For more information on Eid Al-Adha, visit the Questions on Islam website. The site answers many of the questions asked about the rituals and rites associated with Qurban Bayramı (and certainly better than I could).

One of the joys in living abroad is meeting other individuals who, too, are living away from their country of origin. It allows for a more enriching and diverse experience while engaged in a shared experience. There are quite a few ex-patriots living in Baku, Azerbaijan's capital city, but none as dynamic and engaging as Steve Hollier and his partner, Sandra.

During our Writing Olympics event this year, I was introduced to Steve, a writer and photographer from the United Kingdom. He served as a finalist judge, reading dozens of our students' essays to help choose the 1st, 2nd and 3rd place winners. I believe one of my first interactions with him was through email when I flubbed something in the details of what the judges needed to do. I remember feeling embarrassed and he was very kind and comedic about it.

Steve was an incredible advocate for Peace Corps and for Peace Corps Volunteer projects. Steve would frequently hear about a PC project and respond with "That sounds great! Would you be willing to write about that? What other projects do you have going on? What other projects are PCVs working on, do you think they'd write about it?" The October edition of AZ Magazine, a lifestyle periodical magazine to which Steve was editor, held three articles written by PCVs; the September edition two, with dozens of pictures of Peace Corps projects scattered throughout.

Steve could often be found off roaming the countryside with Sandra, an English teacher in Baku and Steve's partner of several years. If he wasn't exploring a new place with Sandra, he could be found on hikes in a Peace Corps region with Mason and Jessi, his Peace Corps "children." He took beautiful photographs of the people and locations within Azerbaijan, often writing about many of his excursions on his blog. Steve wanted to know about the country he lived in, and he did.

Steve and Sandra have opened their home to countless Peace Corps Volunteers; within those walls they have offered kindness, laughter, absorbing conversation, delicious food, wine and a comfort of home. I've loved the conversations at their home, not just those of politics (and those were plentiful), but those exchanged between Sandra and Steve. I wish I could express the love and care exchanged between the two. When I met Steve and Sandra together, I asked them how they met and they told it as two parts of a whole. Where one sentence ended in ellipsis, the other would pick it up without hesitation. There is a love shared between the two which is ever apparent and enviable. It is one which left me with a feeling of hope in what I might someday obtain.

On Thursday, Steve went on to his next big hike, a journey which, this time, he has taken alone. His death is a loss to the Peace Corps Community and to Azerbaijan. It is a loss to those who loved him dearly and to those who had come to know him as a dynamic and generous man. He is, and will continue to be, well missed.

Today is gray and cloudy. The weather is cool and rain is falling intermittently. The trees which line our courtyard are slowly shedding their summer shells and brown leaves litter the blacktop. I'm currently sitting in the kitchen with the oven door wide open and the gas flame on high; my winter heating method. The hot sticky weather I mentioned in my earlier posts has given way to the cold gray days of fall and winter weather threatens to make its dismal appearance.

I've had a hard time writing recently. I think partially because my mood has been a little low, which affects my ability to effectively evaluate my writing (my mood as of late is "crap! crap! it's all crap!"). Today's weather is befitting my mood, gray and dreary. Don't get me wrong, I'm happy with my work and students. Actually, I love my work. Truly. However, there's something here lingering beneath the surface. I think if I'm being honest, I'm a little lonely. I miss dating and having someone in my life I can talk to in a way which could potentially lead to love (one which is reciprocal) and commitment.

I'm also beginning to think about post-Peace Corps life. Many of my current PC friends will be leaving soon to start their next big adventure (they are PCVs who arrived here a year before me and are now finishing their second year). As they begin to plan for their post-PC life, I can't help but begin to think about my own and I can't quite figure out what that next step is. As of this moment I've finished my initial "list of things" I wanted to do with my life. I went sky-diving. I traveled. I lived in other states and countries. I finished my degree. I joined Americorps (twice). I joined Peace Corps. In fact, Peace Corps was one of the last on that initial list and now the time has come to make a new one and, well, I'm a little frightened at the prospect of pursuing some of those next items. They're rather risky and life-long.

Many of my fellow PCVs are discussing their "mid-service slump." I don't think that's quite right because my service is going pretty great. I think I'm more in a weird place in my personal life and I'm not entirely certain what to do about it (or, more accurately, there's not much I can do about it, not for dating, at least not for the next year or so). As a problem solver, relinquishing a sense of control over that part of my life is frustrating (and a little annoying). Yes, I knew this was something I would be facing when I signed up, but that doesn't mean I won't have to deal with it as I go along. My post-Peace Corps life is just a matter of thought and consideration. I have a few ideas, I just have to identify which one is right for me.

In addition to these, I also feel like I have all these "adult-type" things lingering in the background. My student loans are currently in deferment while I'm serving, but they'll be there when I get back. I'm feeling a little anxious to start paying them off. Additionally, not to be what I consider a cliche, but thoughts of things like babies and marriage are beginning to make their way to the surface and they're kind of freaking me out (I hate even admitting to that). They contradict the various traveling I still want to do and I can't seem to align my personal and professional goals.

Overall, there's nothing to be too alarmed about, none of these are things which can be solved today, nor do they need to be. They are more things which are on my mind as of late and seem to be thoughts which drift in and out of focus (as time and tasks permit). They also have me in a bit of a contemplative mood and if I let them, can take a cynical turn. I try not to let them (too often) and most of the time I'm Candide in my outlook. (I mean, after all, Voltaire demonstrated so well how great things turned out for him, why not take the Candide approach, and.....there's that cynicism I mentioned.) Truly, though, it's just a bit of a rut. They happen to each of us and I'm currently just making my way through mine.

Here I am entering my second year in Azerbaijan (although not quite yet my second year of service) and I'm feeling great. My anxiety level has decreased, my defenses have lowered (a tad) and I'm excited about the projects my second year has in store.

During my first year, one of my primary goals was to build relationships in my community. I did this by spending a great deal of time at both my organization and in my students' homes. I said "yes" every time I was invited (unless I had other commitments). Much of those relationships have been with the young women who attend various courses and clubs at my organization. I've had the privilege of forming relationships with both the girls and their families. For this reason, I've been able to form a women's group. It's open to the girls who I know well enough to talk about topics which may be a little uncomfortable, but are also important (women's health, for example). Knowing the girls' families has made another part of our club easier as well; many of the girls haven't been to regions which are a mere hour from our city or, more still, to locations in our own city. Together, and with their families' permission, we've begun to explore some of these places.

Our first trip was to a local hotel. The hotel is a little over two years old and located on the riverside. It sits behind a large fence and has security at the entrance. I'm not sure who they're trying to keep out exactly, but I'm thankful for the relationships I have formed there which allow me access to it. The hotel is almost a complete departure from the rest of the city. It has an expresso machine, a lobby with plush couches, wireless internet and a view overlooking the river. It's a nice place to relax or perhaps take in a cup of coffee (or three). Occasionally if we (my fellow volunteers in the city and I) feel indulgent we'll split a lunch or dinner meal. The staff is spectacular.

I took the girls to the hotel, with their parents' permission (because spending time at a hotel could have a certain connotation associated with it); we had a grand time. We sat in the lobby, drinking tea and feasting on pakhlava. We discussed topics which I will not disclose on my public blog, because there is also a "confidentiality clause" for those who attend club. It probably goes without saying, but this helps everyone feel secure in what we're discussing and open to being honest without the fear of it being repeated.

I love facilitating this club. I don't advise, I don't judge, I just ask a lot of questions, e.g.,Why do you feel that way? Why is it so? What do you think? I heard in Azerbaijan ______, is that true? What differences are there between? How do you feel about? Does that mean?And other facilitator questions which help continue the conversation, although the girls don't need much assistance, the conversation flows freely. I love getting to know these women, their thoughts and insights, their opinions. I like to, at times, challenge what is being said (although, I also enjoy them challenging each other, which they do).

A few of my favorite moments from our visit: laughing as I looked back at all of them crammed in the back of a taxi, jumping in the air for photos on the restaurant balcony, collective laughter and linking arms while we walked and, of course, our conversation.

At the end of October we will take a day trip to Ganja, a neighboring city an hour's busride away. There will be about 11 of us and all of the women have their family's permission (already!).

I'm excited for this club, it's my favorite part of the day and as much as the girls may be getting out of it, I know I'm getting a lot out of it myself. After I took the girls to the hotel, a place none of them had been before, a few of them said "I will remember this day forever." And I can't help but think, "so will I."

I love the location of my computer in my apartment. I set in on the table in my living room, near a giant window and occasionally, when I'm writing, I can pause and look outside to the green of the trees and clothes hanging on clotheslines. However, sometimes the reason I'm looking out the window is due to a noise that startles me. An odd "thump" as something makes its way onto the balcony. This thump is most commonly trash (although, once it was the world's largest grasshopper). The trash being thrown from windows makes. me. crazy! (Littering in general makes me crazy, but this is a whole new level.)

Littering in Azerbaijan is extremely common. Walking down the street, you will witness individuals of all ages throwing trash on the ground as they walk: candy wrappers, empty cigarette packs, cellophane, cell-phone kontour cards, etc. One day, while walking to work, three buses full of school children were parked outside the local theater. It was during the lunch hour and the children were piled on the buses to eat; animated laughter and conversation could be heard from a block away, which was enjoyable. The trash from their snacks and lunches which was scattered along the street? Not enjoyable. As I walked by, more was being tossed casually from open windows. As the buses pulled away, there were hundreds of empty cookie and chip packages lining the street.

Photo courtesy of RFE/RLLittering, as you might guess from my initial paragraph, is not limited to just the streets. Individuals also liter from balconies, apartment windows and anywhere that allows their trash to be swept up in the morning. Yes, here's the part I have yet to mention. My city is fairly "clean" in comparison to others, mostly in the morning. In the early hours of morning, usually at about 6 or 7 am, you will find women across the city in yellow vests sweeping up the liter of the day before. They're put into piles and sometimes towed away and other times hidden in the holes of sewer indentations (sometimes they're swept into piles which are left there and then the wind picks them up and we're back to where we were the day before). Mingachevir is especially unique because it has public trash bins (which people sometimes use and other times completely disregard).

Littering bothers me in particular because it's completely unnecessary. The streets, especially in the evenings, are strewn with trash. I even watched as one of the students who has helped in environmental projects threw his trash on the ground (I had him pick it up and teased him that I was going to tell his Peace Corps Volunteer/Teacher, to which he begged me not to). In Ming, we also have trash pick up. My building in particular, has a trash shoot, making it easy for people to dispose of their trash, we don't even have to take it to the garbage truck (some people have to make sure they catch the garbage truck to have them take their trash, it's not the most efficient system). In other cities, there is a giant trash dump located behind buildings. In my last host family, we even had garbage cows, cows which "grazed" in the garbage and ate it (chickens too). For individuals in the village regions and without any kind of garbage pick-up (actually this happens in cities too), trash is burned. It is not a pleasant smell.

The trash which flutters to the ground from the apartments above me makes me crazy. It's our neighborhood, why wouldn't we take care of it? (I can make this same argument for neighborhoods in America.) I have found on my balcony: nylon packages, cigarette butts and wrappers/packs, cereal plastic, sunflower seed packages and a lot of candy wrappers. I know this is cultural and that I have been programmed since childhood to Reduce, Reuse and Recycle and to never be a litterbug, but it still makes me crazy. I equate the annoyance level to someone constantly flicking me in the forehead.

One of my other "least favorite things" is smoking. I will openly confess that I have smoked before in my past. I will also confess that living in Azerbaijan has been the most effective anti-smoking campaign I could have ever asked for. I loathe cigarettes.

Cigarette smoking is everywhere. Men smoke in cell-phone stores, in real-estate businesses, in markets, in homes, on the street, in cafes, on buses and on marshrutkas. Young children can be seen outside schools smoking in huddles, I think the youngest child (yes child), I've seen smoking was around 7. I told him (and his other friends) I was going to tell their teachers and they just shrugged at me. They're not supposed to be smoking, it's against the rules, but there isn't much done about it either. One PCV game a presentation at a school about not smoking, it was done through the youth ministry, and the doctor who gave the presentation to the kids was then seen outside the school smoking. There's something that doesn't add up there.

Street food vendors smoke and then serve food, once I saw someone smoking while serving food.

And it's not just one cigarette, it's chain smoking. In my first host family, my host dad smoked in the house. He could go through a pack in about two hours. Cigarettes are CHEAP here. I think they're about 1 manat a pack (about 1.30 USD). With the ability to smoke anywhere, the lack of taboo, prices being extremely low, nicotine addition and a lack of health information (although, most know it is bad for them from Russian programming), there isn't much to deter people from smoking. (Although, some of the men who refrain do so because of their religious teaching, for others this isn't a deterrent.)

Littering and smoking, these are two least favorite things.

That's me in the middle. Sandy, to the left and the cute

blonde is Kim. You can thank my grandma for the outfits.I was a pretty nerdy kid in school. I had bad clothes, listened to classical and oldies music and raised my hand a lot in class (a lot). With that said, it should not be at all surprising that I was made fun of a lot (a LOT). I remember grades 4-8 being the worst of it (although, there was this one girl in 9th grade who was the Mean Girl, as in, I'm pretty sure the movie was based on her).

Growing up I also had really bad hair. I had weird curly hair that without the right haircut could look pretty bad. There was a girl in my 7th grade French class who called me "The Hair." If I went up to the board or stood up to speak, she would say something like "Oh, it's The Hair." Or "Great, The Hair is talking" or would lean over to one of her friends and loudly comment for me to hear. I never said anything back, but instead would just sit there embarrassed. (I'm actually a little embarrassed sharing this story right now, and I'm THIRTY. This was more than half-my-life-ago.) I have a lot of stories where people, mostly girls, were just awful. It wasn't just to me, my nerdy friends were treated that way too. Classes were bad, but being in the hallway was worse. That's when the name calling really happened. I remember how desperately I wanted to fit in. Here I was, this awkward kid, in oversized sweaters (and too short jeans and penny loafers--pennies in), who, more than anything, really wanted to be included (which is probably what every kid wants).

Much of this treatment changed when I began high school, not because kids were suddenly nicer or because I was magically cooler, (I assure you, I was not) but because our high school campus was huge. With about 1200 students on campus, it was harder to exclude people because so frequently you were in courses where you didn't know anyone. I was lucky, high school offered me the escape nerdy kids usually find in university.

While I was running this morning a thought occurred to me, one thing I admire about my students here in Azerbaijan, is how extremely inclusive they are with other students. Although many of them go to different universities and they differ in opinions on things, I have never had a moment in any of my classes, or even before classes started, where I needed to remind a student to treat another student well. They are big on sharing, a piece of candy, a sandwich, whatever it is, it is always divided to share with all the students. Even the students that make me crazy, and I do have a few, are treated with respect and inclusiveness.

I don't know what the grade schools are like here, it's possible my experience with my students is the exception and not the rule. I don't know if grade schools reveal more exclusion and bullying of others. I would be interested to hear the feedback from my TEFL friends who work in the lower levels.

Where does this treatment of others come from? Why do young people bully others, and now in the states, in such terrible and awful ways? The names girls call each other and with such vehemence, I just can't comprehend. I can't imagine what it would be like to grow up in an age where social media is available during adolescence. I cringe at the thought of it. Instead of bullying being isolated to school days, kids are offered no respite. Turning on a computer at home, students are dealing with online bullying, as if the hallways weren't venue enough.

(In full disclosure, I can remember times in my own life when I wasn't nice enough to someone and it really stays with me. I try hard though, honestly, to try and be as nice as I can, without my sarcastic self getting in the way. My friend Matt was probably right and although I usually use it to be funny, it also may be a defense mechanism.)

I grew out of my nerdiness, or rather, I grew into it. I found my own voice, which is sometimes a little too loud and a little too boisterous. Sometimes I snort when I laugh (which is actually pretty embarrassing). I still raise my hand (a lot). I gobble up novels and literature like the bookie monster. I no longer sit silent and embarrassed if I'm being made fun of (or if someone else is being made fun of). I laugh WAY too loud. My hair is still sometimes a mess. I love studying and will probably be a lifelong student and I still like oldies and classical music. Also, I use a hairbrush as a microphone to lip-sync to songs when I'm alone in my apartment.

Instead of trying to fit in, I learned who I am and, more importantly, that I really like me. I realized how very unimportant other people's opinions of me are as long as I have a few close friends and family members to keep me in check. I accepted I am not "like everyone else," but most importantly no one is. We are all different and our differences can often be what makes us great.

A few of my fellow PCVs here in Azerbaijan put together this fantastic music video, be sure to check it out.

It's official, our group of volunteers have been in Azerbaijan for an entire year! In fact, this is the week the new group of Peace Corps Volunteers enter Azerbaijan. They're currently spending a few days in orientation in Baku, before meeting their host families who they will live with for the remaining 3 months in training. I can't help but think back to those first few days. I was exhausted, excited and overwhelmed.

There is a pre-pre-service orientation held in Philadelphia. It's a full day on filling out papers (loan deferments, birth certificate identification, direct deposit information and other formalities). This is followed by a bus ride to the airport, (we flew out of JFK). The next day is spent traveling all day and all night to get to Azerbaijan. When arriving to the gate at JFK, they weigh your luggage and your pray all those sheets they sent you with packing instructions are correct, as you spent the night before weighing and reweighing your bags (my bag was over the weight limit, but after spending the night packing, just said "screw it" so I could get a few hours of sleep). When my bags went over, the woman just waved me through, I was her last person to screen before she left for the day. I lucked out as some of my fellow PCVs had to pay the overage.

Upon arriving in Azerbaijan, you go through customs. You're carrying everything you own with you and feeling tired, excited and nervous. You wait in line in a smoke filled room with fluorescent lighting to show your passport/visa. Upon getting through the line and suffering through the smoke, it's then time to fill out the customs sheet. After filling out the customs sheet you discover the people at airport security just kind of wave you through, you offer them the form you just spent 15 minutes filling out and they just stare down at it, when you look at them puzzled, they take it, reluctantly.

When walking through the doors into the lobby, you are greeted by current Peace Corps Volunteers and a chipper PC staff person by the name of Khayal (I have since been told the Country Director and other staff members were there as well, but I don't really remember that part.) You tote your luggage to yet another bus and file on to head to the hotel. They give you brown bag dinners that have a sandwich from a local restaurant (sub-shaped bread with a mayonnaise sauce with various vegetables like corn and peas, an apple, a water and a Snickers bar). Khayal was my bus leader and he was talking excitedly in the front of the bus, honestly, I don't remember what about. I spent the time in the back of bus looking out the window at my new home. It was night, about 9 pm, and there wasn't much to see in the dark. A lot of concrete buildings and many many men standing around outside the places we passed.

Upon arriving at the hotel, you again have all this luggage to deal with which you now have to take up to your room. I shared a room with two other girls who were assigned to me alphabetically, Dai and Carrie.

I don't remember much from that night other than luggage and roomie introductions.

The next three days are FILLED with information. Safety and security, health, language, skits from current volunteers, brief culture introductions and, of course, more paper work. We also got a lot of shots (which continue all through PST.) You get your picture taken for your PC ID. All those days passed in a blur. The evenings are what I remember most. These were spent with my fellow PCVs playing games like: Werewolves, Human Knot, Miniature Tanks, Bananagrams and various others. We even went for dip in the pool, a feat not yet completed by any of the previous volunteers. (I should mention the water was freezing, but the air temperature was warm.) This time allows you an opportunity to bond with your fellow PCVs. When you go off with your host families, you are separated by your job assignment; each group has it's own region. (Last year is was YDs in Xirdalan/Masazir, TEFLs in Sumgayit and CEDs in Saray, or something to that effect.) You come together monthly for hubs, but for the most part you stay with your group.

On the last day of welcome week, you are divided up onto buses according to your region/specialty. It's time to meet your host family. You are then crammed into buses holding all the volunteers in your specialty, all your luggage AND the additional things PC gives you: smoke detector and giant water filter. I remember how nervous I was in meeting my host family. (I didn't mention our LCFs! LCF stands for "Language and Culture Facilitator." PCVs are divided up into "clusters," (about 5 per cluster) and given an LCF, this person helps with talking to families and is also your language instructor for the next 3 months.) We are then taken to our host family's house, our LCF does introductions and helps us get settled. After that, it's up to us!

I wanted to write about this today because it seems like it was such a short time ago and yet so long ago. I also wanted to write it for any of you families who may be searching for information about their loved one who just arrived. I heard everyone who got on the plane has arrived safe and accounted for. :)

Welcome AZ9s and congratulations AZ8s! We've made it a year! Soon the AZ7s will be heading to their next big adventure (AZ7 PCVs start leaving next month). Good luck to the 7s.

In a package from my wonderful friends at Hospice Care of Southwest Michigan, I received a squeaky blue rubber chicken (it's actually a dog toy, but with no dog, it is now a Crystal toy). Now, perhaps some would think this is an unusual gift, but when I receive such things I am: 1. Very amused and laugh to myself. 2. Take the opportunity to be as ridiculous as possible, i.e., the rubber chicken walked around my couch, the rubber chicken went for a little flight across the room (I wanted to see if he would squeak upon landing), the rubber chicken had a play date with a moose from a different care package; my imagination knows no bounds. Following my amusement and 4th grade antics, I used that imagination to think of ways I could use it with my students and as with any reliable imagination, I came up with one.

In order to do this, I needed to first transport it from my house to work. I put it in my polka dot bag with my course books and handouts/etc. My bag is usually pretty full, sometimes I bring my computer, depending on the lesson. The first day I brought Toyuq with me (pronounced, Toy-yug, which is Azeri for chicken) I had a wonderfully laughter filled walk. Why? When I took a step, my bag squeaked and I would laugh, as I sped up while walking, so did the squeaking.

It went something like this: step, squeak, laugh, step, squeak, laugh, step, squeak, laugh....etc.

I realized I looked crazy. I realized this, because people would look at me as I walked by, which they do anyway, but even more suspiciously. Who was this laughing girl? (Although, it's hard to know if they were looking strangely at the laughing or the squeaking, I may never know.) I tried to pull it together, but sometimes when you tell yourself not to laugh, it just makes everything funnier (Anderson Cooper anyone?) AND the chicken was still squeaking as I walked. At this point, I thought about taking it out of my bag and holding on to it so it would stop squeaking, but then realized a bright blue polka dot chicken still attracts a certain amount of attention. I left it in my bag and went on with my squeaky adventure.

When I arrived to my first course, which is my conversation club, I pulled out Toyuq and put him on the desk. The students were all curious, but I didn't say anything about it. I introduced our topic. The conversation began and, like any group of students who get together, two students began talking amongst themselves while another student was talking.

This is one of my biggest rules in convo club, no talking when other students are talking. It makes me crazy. Not only is it rude, but it's so difficult for the student who is trying so hard to talk in another language, some of the students are very shy and reluctant to talk out loud. I want to encourage them to continue talking out loud and it's very difficult to do when people are having side conversations. It also makes it difficult for me to hear them.

Toyuq absolutely needed to make an appearance. I looked at the student who was currently speaking in English, looked to the students who were talking amongst themselves, looked back to the student who was currently talking and motioned for her to pause. I then picked up Toyuq and SQQQQQQQQUUUUUUEEEEEAAAAAAKKKKKKK. The students all cracked up. I did this while looking at the two side chatters. They laughed and apologized. I was then able to go back to the student who was speaking and ask her the question again. I don't think I'll use Toyuq in every class. Typically I handle side chatter by walking up behind the talkers and putting a light hand on their shoulders as a reminder. This allows the student who is currently speaking to continue without (too much of) a distraction. If it's ongoing, I will stop the entire conversation and "stare down" the chatters until they realize we are all waiting for them to finish.

I realize Toyuq wouldn't work in every class. In some classes, this would be a distraction to the speaker and you might have students who are little hams themselves and would work to create situations which would make the rubber chicken come out, just to see it. My students are a pretty good group and I like to add games and props to their learning. These are very rarely (if ever) used in classrooms here. (Azerbaijani education is very similar (if not identical) to the Soviet education system, students are read at more than read to and coursework is more about memorizing facts and figures than about learning something new or thinking for oneself.)

I am extremely animated when explaining something. In my TOEFL course I use the entire room as a stage for explaining and I use my whole body to explain it, e.g., Wednesday's reading was about eels and the way their body uses thrust and lateral force. It also discussed the way their body's movement is serpentine, with undulations moving backward along the body. For the purpose of the lesson, I became an eel. I have no shame and I will do whatever it takes to get a student to understand (because, sometimes they say they do, but they don't understand. If I ask them if they understand, and they say yes, but I don't think they do understand, I'll then ask them to explain it to me).

One of my TOEFL students told me once "You are strict, but you are also fun. I learn so much from you." I think that's probably exactly where I want to be.

In the meantime, Toyuq will continue to join me on some class adventures, perhaps not all of them, but a few of them. I have a lot of fun things in my teacher bag which I always try to put to good use.

One of the benefits of Peace Corps service (despite the multitude of obvious: helping others, personal challenges, new friendships, total immersion, etc.) is the time I have available for reflection. In the states, we often busy ourselves with our day-to-day tasks with precious few moments for ourselves. A spare moment in America, perhaps on our commute from one event to the next, is frequently spent in "check-list" mode. Attempting to reassure ourselves our never ending to-do list is getting done. My experience in Azerbaijan has been much different.

I walk everywhere, to complete errands, to go to work, to visit friends; these moments are mine. I set my own schedule, allowing me to have as much (or as little) time to myself. The Peace Corps experience is very much conducive to an environment of self-inflection. I have spent the last year having gained some moments of quiet reflection, moments that are just for me. It has allowed me to look back on (or forward to) various poor or advantageous experiences. I think it's helped me in identifying relationships which have been beneficial or toxic. To examine the friend, familial and romantic relationships which have been meaningful and those which I should have avoided; to examine what led me to those choices.

Something I learned a long time ago, but occasionally forget, is that I don't have to like everyone and I don't have to be friends with everyone. I should be kind to everyone (despite the difficulty this sometimes presents), but the people I allow into my life should be those who challenge me to be a better person and should give as much as they take. I think, despite my outspokenness in certain areas of my life , I can still be a bit of a push-over when I fall in love. I don't quite know how to modify that.

The time I have here allows me to look at things in a quiet and thoughtful way. I'm not making hasty decisions in an attempt to mentally pack it away or compartmentalize it. It's one of the best things about my service.

I would like to say it was a quiet morning here in my apartment. That I awoke to sun gently streaming through windowpanes as birds sang in a bright new morning (isn't that how everyone wakes up?). Yes, I would like to say that I awoke gently, believing, just for a moment, that all is right with the world. Upon waking I would stretch, cat-like, and momentarily pause, not quite ready to leave my covers just yet. Perhaps read in bed for a bit before leaving it. Those are my favorite ways to start my mornings.

Alas, this was not one of those mornings. Instead this morning consisted of waking up to a little girl who was screaming/sobbing in our stairwell that She. Did. Not. Want. To. Go. To. School. (Really, it's not so different than in America.) To say she felt strongly about her opinion does not quite do the scenario justice. She went on for about 10 minutes this way (how she didn't lose her voice or exhaust herself before that 10 minute marker is beyond me). I think maybe some kicking happened, perhaps some thrashing about (I was listening to this whilst lying in bed, admittedly with a pillow over my head, so I can't tell you for certain). This poor poor girl. Despite her screams/anger/hysterics at the upcoming school day, it was very sweet to hear her father, who must have been taking her to school, trying to console her. He never yelled back, did not lose his own temper and just kept talking to her, as she got louder, his voice would sometimes become softer. I don't know what they decided, if the little girl went home or if she went to school (I think she went to school, otherwise, why would she have been out there for so long?) but it was an interesting way to wake up.

School has started again and today I begin my courses after a two week break. I'm looking forward to seeing the students who went back to their various regions for the summer (whom I've missed!) and to get back into my normal routine. Although many of my friends in America are talking about the onset of the fall season, we've yet to experience the cooler weather just yet (don't get me wrong, the weather is not equal to that of mid-summer, but it's still tank-top weather).

I have several posts I've been procrastinating on posting, but stay tuned for posts on the Writing Olympics ceremony, my 30th birthday and hiking in Lerik.

Today while reading through my Azerbaijan news alerts, I came across an article highlighting the government's intention to enforce stricter punishments (in the form of fines) on parents who choose not to send their children to school. These parents are choosing to do so, however, due to the country's recent ban on the hijab in first and secondary classrooms. Officially, Azerbaijan's constitution provides individuals the right to religious freedom; it even expressly prohibits the government from interfering in the religious activities of any individual or group. However, to enforce a de facto ban on hijab wearing in schools, the Ministry of Education sites the Law on Education which stipulates that public school students wear uniforms, of which the hijab is not a part.

The tradition of wearing the hijab, a head scarf worn by women covering their hair and neck, comes from an interpretation of a Quran passage dictating that individuals who observe Islam dress modestly. For men this means covering from the naval to the knee and for women this seems to have varied interpretations, most of which are based on their country location (e.g., a head covering vs. a full face veil).

When reading articles associated with women and the wearing of the hijab, the debate seems to exist in whether the hijab is indicative of oppression or of religious observance. Some women who choose to wear the hijab indicate it is a personal choice, one which allows them to feel closer to God and their religion. They also discuss its wearing as a means of self-respect, stating that people befriend them based on their mind instead of their appearance. Others view wearing the hijab as a means of oppressing women and something which is forced on them by others (a father, brother or male relative).

I thought this ban was particularly interesting in a place like Azerbaijan. Although Azerbaijan's government remains secular, the country is a primarily Muslim nation; 96% of the population claim to be Muslim. (Although fewer individuals observe the religious practices associated with the religion and are identified more as culturally Muslim than as religious adherents.) Despite the guarantees made to individuals through Azerbaijan's constitution, many additional laws suppress religious freedom. According to the the U.S. State Departments report on International Religious Freedom, Azerbaijan seems to be implementing laws which make it extremely difficult for religious groups to retain or obtain registration from their government, making it almost impossible to operate. The report also identifies the government's demolition of several mosques throughout Azerbaijan and attacks by local law enforcement on religious observers.

The religious intolerance I'm reading about seems reminiscent of life in Azerbaijan during the Soviet period (although, perhaps not quite as severe). During the Soviet period individuals were forced to worship in private and hide their religious affiliations. Public displays of religion were met with harassment and ridicule. Religious leaders were executed. The government distributed literature on atheism and propagated in schools. It was during this period that all the mosques in Azerbaijan were destroyed. In Azerbaijan today? Government leaders are banning religious observances (the wearing of the hijab), destroying and closing mosques, refusing registration, denying the importation of religious materials and harassing or arresting religious leaders and service attendees.

Azerbaijan's legal system is often a conundrum. Despite a seemingly progressive constitution, including laws such as equality for women and religious freedom, the laws are rarely upheld. Worse, they're often contradicted through the acts of law enforcement officials or amended laws. Although Azerbaijan strives to be one which is progressive, it often seems to be taking steps backward into a Soviet past. If Azerbaijan seeks to align itself more with Western ideas and intentions, it should be guaranteeing the the rights of its citizens as outlined in the nation's constitution, not engaging in activities which hinder and suppress those rights.

Much of my time being a Peace Corps Volunteer is spent introducing individuals to America. Many people in Azerbaijan know of America (of course), but very few have actually met an American. Much of what is known about America and Americans is based on television, whether that be through movies, sitcoms or even the news/media. In case you didn't know, America does not do a fantastic job at representing itself well within the media, at least not abroad. Our morals and values aren't exactly top notch and with all the wars we've been raging/engrossed in, coupled with our television programming, we look like power hungry sex addicts. Sometimes I'm embarrassed to have to try and modify people's perceptions. I often explain that much of our programming is for entertainment and not in fact representative of our culture or our nation (not really). Wars are a little more challenging to discuss, but I usually side-step discussing our engagement in multiple wars by explaining that I don't really understand them either. I am sometimes embarrassed by our politics and find living on this side of the world to be eye-opening in the views our own media often portrays.

At the same time, while I admit to being quite embarrassed by the various political and social decisions we make in our country (as well as by the current misguided attitudes toward the entire Muslim religion), I am also extremely proud to be an American. To show that I, as a woman, can live alone, hold a job, be well educated, speak about politics, have opinions and make decisions which are not based on my family's decisions for me, but instead based on my own mind. Being an American has introduced me to ideas that allow me to question authority and look at information in a creative or analytical way. Being an American has taught me that I can speak my mind and be critical of my own goverment without the fear that I will be imprisioned for doing so. Being an American has taught me that I can travel freely, seek employment widely and continue my education regardless of my age or gender. I have learned through the year that I have spent in Azerbaijan just what being an American means. We truly are the land of the free. I didn't know just how many freedoms were extended to me until I looked to other nations with whom those freedoms are not guaranteed or, if they are, are not followed or upheld.

My pride in being an American is sometimes coupled with guilt. I didn't do anything to deserve these freedoms. I was instead born lucky. I was born into a country which allows me great freedom and great privilege. But what many of us Americans take for granted is that with this privilege, with this freedom, comes great responsibility. We have a choice about whether we want to use our nationality to be one which seeks freedom for all people throughout the world and to actively work towards helping individuals achieve this, or we can sit idly by while other nations struggle to discover the same freedoms we so ardently uphold. The freedom I speak of does not come under the guise of a war waged on a nation, a war which once "finished" comes with a new and corrupt government, with no real sense of democracy or cohesiveness, but instead it is a freedom that comes with development, with education and with equality. These are the elements of freedom we, as American citizens, should be supporting worldwide. Not through wars or bitter and prejudiced commentary on entire nationalities (which seem to have seeped into our psyches and into acceptance in our national media), no, as Americans we have a greater responsibility. To extend to other nations the freedoms that we ourselves have been so lucky to be given, merely by having been born free.

If each of us actively pursued equality and education in nations throughout the world, I can't help but wonder what our world would begin to reflect. Would it reflect great disparities in equality? Or would it instead begin to reflect the principles in which our own great nation was founded?

I think that being born an American is to be born with great responsibility. It remains to be seen, however, the ways in which we each, as individuals and as Americans, step up to use that responsibility in helping to help shape and develop our global community.

First, I want to talk about the fact that I am an awful blogger. Sometimes I don't write for months at a time and during that time so many great (or not so great) things have happened that I should really be writing about and yet, I don't. Some of it stems from not wanting to put the time into doing a post. Posts, depending on the topic, can often take me quite a while to get through. (Other posts, as you might tell from my writing, don't take nearly as long.) Sometimes, I just can't muster the will to write them. This lack of will I attribute to two things, 1. Too many "real life" things going on to take the time to write and 2. Reading too many blogs. This second reason isn't (very) crazy, allow me to elaborate.

Reading other people's blogs can be unnerving. They have a voice. They have a mission. They have these great posts which are amusing/perceptive/intelligent. It's unnerving because you start to recognize your own posting to be, perhaps, sub-par. You ask yourself, what exactly is my voice? My mission? You start to realize that the posts you're writing most likely reveal exactly how much time you've spent on them. You start to compare yourself. You feel a little self-conscious. You evaluate your writing as not honest enough, not intellectual enough, not funny enough. You start to wonder why you even bother.

I had an ex-boyfriend who once said to me, "Comparison is the root of all evil," and I can see his point.

It's not that I'm insecure in my writing (well, not completely), but instead the problem stems from the belief that writing is something I've been good at. However, in reading other writers, other bloggers especially, I discover they are better at it. People who are writing things in ways which make me think "Oh, that is marvelously written." For normal people this wouldn't be a problem, but for me, following these readings, I seem to lose my own voice. I attempt to write in a way similar to the marvelous author's style instead of writing in a way which is mine. In this attempt at emulating said author, I often find I am lacking. And it's so frustrating! It's during the course of these attempts that I accrue many (many) drafts which go unpublished. (I won't tell you how many drafts of blog entries I have, I'll just say....it's a lot.)

Yes, I confess, I worry about what the whole 5 people who read this blog think of my writing. I go through these strange phases of wanting to echo other writers, which should be great and push me to do creative things with my writing. It should allow me to become better, but instead it sometimes shuts me down (or at least makes my posts something which I'm not willing to share with the public). Eventually, though, I find my way back to my own voice. (Typically it's when I let go of whatever tightly wound idea I'm clinging to and just start writing.)

My point is, I'll try to post more in the future. If my writing seems a little off one day, try to sum it up to me trying to be someone I'm not and look to the next post to be back on target.

5:43 am. I put on jeans, socks, sneakers and a hooded sweatshirt (hood UP of course, he would probably land in my hair otherwise). It was pretty warm (the temp is in the 80s). I went into the kitchen with my back to the wall and slid along the wall to my balcony door. I opened it. I slid along the other wall to my mop. I picked up my mop. With my mop I started prodding various objects in hopes to scare it out of its hiding spot. My plan was to scare it from its hiding spot and out to the balcony, at least then it would be outside. (What? You had a better plan?!)

It did not work, mostly because he is back hiding, somewhere. Probably in a rat's nest with his rat friends.

There is a hole in my wall in my kitchen that leads to....I don't really know where, I'm quite certain that's how he got in. I'll call my landlord later today and have him come take care of it (in whatever way one "takes care of" such things).

So. This is Peace Corps life.

It's currently 4:41 am in Azerbaijan. At 4:18 am I woke up to some noises in my apartment coming from the kitchen. I live alone and was certain, CERTAIN, someone had broken in. One might ask what I chose to do about it, well, my answer was to get up and start turning on lights (in retrospect, if someone had been in my house, this may have been a poor handling of the situation).

I kept turning on lights. I turned on the kitchen light (once I had established there was not anyone in the apartment). And there. Was. A. RAT!

A Rat.

A RAT!

I stared at it. It stared at me. It scurried (kind of a slow scurry) and dropped into the sink. And then onto a pipe. Then it just kind of hung out there. Then it lept, LEPT from the pipe onto the counter. I've currently lost sight of it (I was observing all of this from my light switch stance). I closed the door to the kitchen. I stood there for a few minutes. (It's a glass door and I can see through it.) I'm now here, writing this post. (Did I mention there is a rat? There's a RAT!)

I'm in uncharted territory here. What am I supposed to do? I mean, the other day there was a huge moth (it was beheMOTH) in my house and my solution was to get a jar and capture it and let it outside, but a rat?

While standing at my light switch position, I remembered one of my students telling me about my particular apartment building. In his sophomore year of college, he had lived on the first floor of this very building. He told me when I moved out of my host family's house and into my new location that there were a lot of mice in his apartment. Yes, apparently, he had problems with "mice" while he lived here.

I'm kind of wondering if maybe he confused "mice" with "rat" (non-native speaker, English learner, I'm thinking the possibility is pretty good here).

I have a rat. It's just hanging out in my kitchen right now. (Luckily, in the closing of the door, I have now at least reassured myself that it's not going to leap onto my face at any moment. This is always a worry with animals, that somehow they will leap onto ones face and attach in a fashion similar to the Body Snatchers alien. I blame this on too many slapstick comedies where animals are leaping onto faces. Wasn't there a raccoon like that in some movie?)

Those of you reading this and thinking, "She has a rat and she's posting a blog instead of taking care of it?!" Then, admittedly, you have a valid point. However, I'm really at a loss here. I don't have the right type of equipment or face mask for this sort of thing (the leaping, let's not forget about the leaping). How did it get in? Does it have friends? If it doesn't have friends, does that mean it someday will have friends?

Also, Remy, this rat is not. That rat was clever and he could cook, this guy? Well, I don't really know if he can cook. I suppose I could ask him, he is (I think) in the kitchen.

It's 5:06 am. I'm tired. I'm kind of freaked out. I Googled how to get rid of rats and thank you King County, if I wasn't freaked out enough. Really? Rats in TOILETS. I may never pee again.

I'm sure this will later be a comical "Peace Corps story." Haha, "Remember that time there was a rat?" Yeah, well. For now, I still have the rat.

So. Now what?

Eviction. It's a notice no tenant wants to receive. Imagine, however, that you aren't given a notice. Imagine, instead, you went on vacation and came home to discover your home had been demolished. Or perhaps even your place of employment. You showed up at work to discover your office had been destroyed. What action would you take? What choice would you have?

That's what's happening in Baku, Azerbaijan. The New York Times has been covering the stories of various people in the capital city who have been losing their homes to demolition. They've also been covering the story of families who have been kicked out of their homes. Although officials are being quoted as saying they are trying to rid Baku of "dilapidated" buildings, the truth of the matter is they are leaving families homeless to make way for buildings which will provide greater revenue. As Baku increases in size (largely due to the success of oil generation), they're kicking out the middle class.

The stories of these families remind me a great deal of the families fighting for their homes in America while disputing with government officials over eminent domain laws. Although this law was created with the intention of allowing governments to provide reasonable access to things like roads or water, the law has been manipulated by businesses who are seeking to gain access to land with high market value. There are instances throughout the U.S. where this is being demonstrated. The difference, however, is the recourse available for families who choose to fight these developers in court.

When people in Azerbaijan try to plead their case in court to save their homes, they're met with resistance and, thus far, none have been able to keep their home.

The video in the Times article left me flabbergasted. Watching families witness the demolition of their homes while crying and helpless to stop it, it's plain awful.

The demolitions have not gone unnoticed. The EU has made a public statement asking Baku to "reconsider their demolition practices." Human Rights Watch has been critical of these actions as well, but my question remains, what are you going to do to stop this Baku?

Eviction. It's a notice no tenant wants to receive. Imagine, however, that you aren't given a notice. Imagine, instead, you went on vacation and came home to discover your home had been demolished. Or perhaps even your place of employment. You showed up at work to discover your office had been destroyed. What action would you take? What choice would you have?

That's what's happening in Baku, Azerbaijan. The New York Times has been covering the stories of various people in the capital city who have been losing their homes to demolition. They've also been covering the story of families who have been kicked out of their homes. Although officials are being quoted as saying they are trying to rid Baku of "dilapidated" buildings, the truth of the matter is they are leaving families homeless and kicking them out of homes families have owned for ages to make way for buildings which will provide greater revenue. As Baku gets bigger due to the oil boom, they're kicking out the middle class.

The stories of these families remind me a great deal of the families fighting for their homes in America while disputing with government official over eminent domain laws. Although this law was created with the intention of allowing governments to provide reasonable access to things like roads or water, the law has been manipulated by businesses who are seeking to gain access to land with high market value. There are instances throughout the U.S. where this is being demonstrated. The difference, however, is the recourse available for families who choose to fight the laws in court.

When people in Azerbaijan try to plead their case in court to save their home, they're met with resistance and, thus far, none have been able to keep their home.

I am, honestly, appalled. The video in the Times article makes me angry. Watching the families outside their home witnessing the demolition crew bulldoze their homes while they watch; crying and helpless to stop it. It's awful.

What are you going to do to stop this Baku?

During my first few months in Azerbaijan and during Pre-Service Training (PST), I remember one of my fellow PCVs giving a presentation on life in Azerbaijan. During the presentation, she mentioned that while serving in AZ most men will lose (about) 20 lbs whereas most women will gain about 20lbs. What I remember most about the presentation was the panicky feeling I had when she said that. I could not afford that kind of weight gain. In the year prior to coming to AZ, I worked in an office and had been taking night classes, both of which required me to do a lot of sitting. Due to this inactive lifestyle, I had (regrettably) put on some weight, which I had every intention of losing while in Azerbaijan.

One of the goals I set for myself before coming to Azerbaijan was to create a work-out routine (which would become a habit I could take with me back to America), to eat well and to get healthy. The blogs and various internet entries I had read about PCV work was that (often) there was "a lot of down time." PCV blogs discussed free time which consisted of: reading books, exercising, learning a musical instrument, studying for grad school, etc. Setting the goal of "getting healthy" didn't seem unrealistic, but upon hearing this presentation, I felt a little defeated.

I'm happy to report that each person's health experience (just like their service experience), will vary. Since I've been here I've been lucky enough to shed a few pounds, but I've had to work at it.

Currently, my health success is due to:

1. Daily work-outs (with Sunday as my "day off")2. Running every other day3. Eating well through the incorporation of (many) vegetables and legumes4. Time to cook/prepare food I enjoy and time to "savor the flavor"

My site placement is one which has served me well. I say this because I had housing options which allowed me to live away from my host family. My host family is wonderful, but when living with a host family, you are (usually) limited to eating what is being prepared. Here foods are saturated in oil and white bread is served at every meal. (Cultural note: bread is extremely important culturally and a great deal of respect is given to bread when it's being handled or served.)

I currently live in my own apartment next to a sports stadium. The stadium is used for soccer, basketball and other various sports. Although the people most frequently found there are men, this has been the easiest (and most comfortable) location for me to run. Despite strange looks from individuals while I'm running, it's at least expected that individuals will be engrossed in physical activity while at the stadium.

Diet. My diet consists of very little meat. I'm not a vegetarian, I like chicken a great deal, but this vegetarian status is primarily due to high costs, as well as the complete difference in preparing it. Meat is found in a butcher shop and the animal is slaughtered that same morning. Ground beef? Buy a slab of meat and grind it yourself. Chicken? Buy it live at the market and kill it when you arrive home. (There are some exceptions to this, I can actually buy packaged chicken in my city.) However, for the most part I omit meat from my diet and supplement it with a lentil/rice mix (complete protein!) which is also lower in fat. I eat more beans and legumes in general and will confess that prior to coming to AZ, I had never cooked a lentil in my life.

I don't drink (alcohol) in Azerbaijan, not that I was drinking a great deal in the states, but those beers which tasted so good while I was in America aren't calories I'm consuming while I'm here in AZ.

I eat fresh. I go to the market at least every other day on my way home from work and my diet consists of very little canned or processed food. I don't think I've ever eaten as well as I have here (I think it helps that I really enjoy cooking). And I never, well, I very rarely, eat out. I think that's huge.

I turn 30 in a month or so and it's nice to know that I'll be beginning my 30th year in good health. This is possibly the most boring post I've ever written on my blog, but my health has been a big focus while I've been in AZ and it seemed like something I should write about.

I don't know if it's the heat, being out of my "motherland" for almost a year or an introduction to life in my thirties, but my mental state is in serious question. Since I have no real way to confirm the last two, I'll instead focus on the first and hope that's the reason for my mind melt.

The temperature has been easily in the hundreds daily and I confess, I didn't realize what that would do to my disposition, reasoning ability or my general outlook on life. I mean, I lived in hot weather before, but I think it's different here because there's no real respite. It's not as though I'm going home or to work and hanging out in AC. It's hanging out in hot rooms and then leaving and walking in hotter weather.

1. Disposition

Cranky. I am cranky. I am "Don't touch me. Don't look at me. What is your problem?" cranky. Here, when the common greeting is a kiss on both cheeks (something I usually love), I revert to a prepubescent child and my internal dialogue begins to whine and stomp its feet. Although I may not vocalize this whine, I think my "pleeeeease don't touch me" face may give me away. But I mean, honestly, I'm sweaty, you're sweaty, this is not fun for anyone and we just don't know each other that well. The "exchange sweat" kind of well. I suppose I could say that I'm getting to know people better, because when you wipe your face sweat on me, and I wipe my face sweat on you, how can we not be instant best friends? The other day I went to the post office to pay my bills and there were about 50 people waiting to do the same. I will summarize this by saying, we did not smell nice. As a collective group, we smelled like a locker room, or something much worse, but I can't quite figure out the appropriate analogy. Sweat poured. The worst part is that in a room of 50 people and in a culture where "lines" don't exist, if you want to get to the front counter, it's by making your way there. This is impossible to do without touching anyone. Cranky. Very cranky.

2. Reasoning AbilityEmotions are high. The other day I went to the store to purchase kontours for my PCV phone and 3 of the stores I went to were closed. I ended up having to trudge around town looking for an open store. While I walked my internal dialogue became one in which "stupid" prefaced everything, "Stupid phone. Stupid day. Stupid sun. Stupid weather! Stupid.....Hey! Don't look at me!" Even though I know I'm whining, and even though it's really only in my head in which I express it (well, and to my friend Dan who gets frequent phone calls from me), it's annoying. I'm annoyed with myself and that is something that's truly awful because I'm stuck with me. If I have a friend or acquaintance that annoys me, I can take a break. If I annoy me, well good luck, because there's no reprieve offered in that relationship. Because my emotions are high, my logic doesn't seem to get nearly enough "air time".....logic breaks in with items such as "Everyone is going through this Crystal, this is not something you alone are experiencing." But frankly, logic is kind of self-righteous and I have no use for her commentary and know-it-all status. She can just take a back seat. She and I are not on "exchange sweat" status at the moment.

3. General Outlook on LifeMy general outlook on life consists of fantasizing about when I used to sit in my apartment and freeze. I long for the days when I needed several blankets to sleep and wore a knit hat and felt like my hands would break off at any moment and fall to the floor. Ah yes, the freezing of extremities. The "good-ol days," I like to call 'em. I sit at home in as little clothing as possible and try not to become an exhibitionist. The windows and (balcony) doors are open and it is hot, clothing is not an option, or at least, not a lot of it. This makes for a particularly interesting experience when walking around my house in bikini like apparel. Walk, walk, crouch to avoid window and people looking in, walk walk, crouch to avoid other window, walk, walk, wash plate. Repeat. My general outlook is one which just reflects my annoyance at the heat and thus can be summed up as "annoyed." Talking with people who are as miserable as I am helps (as long as they don't try to touch me). We commiserate together and sweat near each other instead of on each other.

Overall, there are days I feel truly certifiable. I hope you found this post entertaining, because I laughed a little as I wrote it. May your days be filled with popsicles and icy drinks.

Tomorrow, as the sun makes its way over the horizon, people around the world will be observing the holy month of Ramadan by abstaining from eating and drinking during daylight hours. Fasting is known as “Sawm,” and is one of the five pillars of Islam.* Ramadan is believed to be the holy month in which the Qur'an was revealed to the prophet Muhammad by the angel Gabriel. "The month of Ramadan in which was revealed the Qur’an, a guidance for mankind, and clear proofs of the guidance, and the Criterion (of right and wrong). And whosoever of you is present, let him fast the month, and whosoever of you is sick or on a journey, (let him fast the same) number of other days. Allah desireth for you ease; He desireth not hardship for you; and (He desireth) that ye should complete the period, and that ye should magnify Allah for having guided you, and that peradventure ye may be thankful.” (Al-Baqarah 2: 185) During this time it is said that the gates of hell are closed and the gates of paradise opened. Individuals are encouraged to mend quarrels with loved ones, increase charitable acts and engage in activities which will enrich their lives in this world as well as the next. It is said to be easier during this month to show others kindness and generosity. Ramadan falls in the ninth month of the Islamic calendar year and varies by 11 days each year (the Islamic calendar follows the lunar calendar as opposed to the solar calendar). Fasting continues from sun up to sun down with a small early morning meal before dawn (Sahur) and a larger evening meal after sunset (Iftar). In the evenings, individuals may participate in the voluntary, Qiyaam al-Layl, or night prayer. This observation begins after the evening prayer and lasts until morning. It is said to pray at night brings one closer to Allah. It also keeps individuals free from disease, free from sin and “expiates bad deeds.” I will not be observing Ramadan due to my current exercise regimen, but am considering it for next year. My host family, however, will be fasting and praying during this month. *The Five Pillars of Islam are the five obligations that every Muslim must satisfy in order to live a good and responsible life (according to Islam). The Five Pillars are: Shahadah (sincerely reciting the Muslim profession of faith), Salat (performing ritual prayers in the proper way five times each day), Zakat (paying an alms (or charity) tax to benefit the poor and the needy), Sawm (fasting during the month of Ramadan) and Hajj (the pilgrimage to Mecca).

When Azerbaijan won Eurovision 2012, I listened to Ell and Nikki's "Running Scared" for weeks. I'm happy for Azerbaijan, especially because of how happy my students are. However, today I read a brief article about Eurovision 2012 and its arrival in Baku and thought perhaps it was reaching a bit (quite a bit).

The site mentions the "inevitability" of international attention and focus on "corruption, human rights and free speech in the country" and the attention it will bring to the conflict to the east. I don't want to be extremely skeptical here, but the idea that a song contest can bring international attention to the problems Azerbaijan is facing seems a bit, well, far-fetched.

In my opinion, people who attend Eurovision are seeking travel and entertainment. I don't think their focus is on the various political and cultural issues the country is facing. I think the talk about Azerbaijan pre-Eurovision, has been "how it will bring attention to Azerbaijan's problems" but has yet to do so. Further, I think the post-Eurovision critiques will be about food, accommodations and the event itself, not about various human rights violations.

Ultimately, I think people can be a little self-centered and the focus is going to be primarily about what they experienced personally. After people have made their observations, they will then return to life in their various countries and things will proceed as usual.

To read a local perspective on this upcoming event, read Arzu Geybulla's blog post: Eurovision 2012 in Azerbaijan, Triumph or Trap.

Author's note: I have a great respect for religions of all countries. The discussion regarding the removal of Muslim women's veils in this article is representative of the views expressed by Mirvarid Dilbazi and in no way represents my personal views of women who choose to wear the veil as a representation of her religious beliefs.

A friend of mine recently sent me an article which discussed the 1920's women's intelligentsia movement in Azerbaijan. The article is incredibly interesting.

The article was written by Mirvarid Dilbazi, an Azerbaijani poet who wrote about the changes that she witnessed during her time living in Azerbaijan. She discusses the 1920s-30s when writers, poets and other intellects' primary focus was on women's emancipation. Women's emancipation, at that time in Azerbaijan, focused on women's involvement in government, the wearing of the chador (veil) and women's literacy.

Writers poured their hearts into this topic, and as writers and performers became emboldened, the removal of the chador became a symbol of honor to women. One character in a theater production says "Let those who have defects on their faces veil themselves. I have no defect, so why should I cover my face? We don't have a tradition of hiding our faces under a veil. A woman's honor is completely related to her morality, not to what she wears." During the course of a theater performance, when the female protagonist removes her veil, women in the audience of Baku, too, removed their veils. As this movement gained momentum, the government began to echo the campaign and participated by "marketing" the removal of the veil. (It should be noted, as Dilbazi writes, that the Soviet government was anti-religion and the veil, which is representative of a religious tradition, was the motivation behind supporting the movement). Soon after, many women began refusing to wear the veil, despite demands of fathers, brothers and husbands. One woman was killed by her father for her refusal (her father was later arrested). The veil, as it was being used, wasn't about religion, but instead the idea that a women's honor is not based on what she wears.

The Azerbaijan which Dilbalzi discusses is compelling. The women depicted are fierce and the momentum of the movement seemed to be gathering strength, so I cannot help but think, what happened?

The Azerbaijan of today, at least the one I've been engrossed in, doesn't seem to represent the fierce women of the 1920s and 30s. Many women aren't knowledgeable of the rights afforded to them by their government. They marry young (extremely young). Although women now attend school and sometimes university, once married, many no longer work, not by choice, but instead because their husbands don't want them to. They have little or no information about about reproductive health and, perhaps worse, misinformation (something worth noting is that the birth control method of choice used by Azeri women is abortion). Additionally, decisions regarding their sexual health are also out of their control, if a husband doesn't want to use a condom, then no condom is used.

There is a great disparity between the women of the regions and the women of Baku, the capital city. Whereas Dilbalzi talks of a movement which started in Baku and made its way to the rest of the country, here if something happens in Baku, it seems rare that it finds its way to the regions. While you will see many women driving cars and working in Baku, Baku does not reflect the happenings in the rest of the country. The rest of the country is still developing (this isn't just reflected in the development of women, but also in the frequency of water and gas access).

My question is where are the women who so willing unveiled themselves during the years of Mirvarid Dilbalzi? Bold and passionate about women's emancipation? Despite laws which support women, there is a culture which does much to prohibit women's wants and actions. I think more than anything, I want women to have choice in their lives and enough information and education to know what those choices are. Every woman should be permitted to act on what she wants for her own life, that shouldn't be decided for her by a man, nor by anyone.

Running has become a regular part of my life here in Azerbaijan and its frequency has increased over the past month. Part of this is due to its excellent stress relief, part for the feeling of health and wellness and the last, for the clarity it seems to provide me.

Most days, I trudge out of bed at 7am when the city is still quiet and people are just beginning to awaken. I like this time because it's cooler and the stadium is only filled with a handful of men who leave me alone as they, too, are completing their morning exercise. Occasionally, as I make my way out of my building, I'll see a few lone women hanging clothing on the line and give them a half-awake "Sabahınız xeyir" (good morning) coupled with a wave. However, as the summer heat makes its way into my life and, more to the point, into my schedule (I find myself awake late into the evenings now), my runs have begun to creep later into the day. There are two things that happen with this: 1. It is hot. Real hot. But I run through it and then re-hydrate when I get home. 2. There are many men and boys at the stadium later in the day, stares and amused looks are plentiful. I run through these as well, but concede my discomfort.

On Thursday, about 4 boys from softball joined me on my run, and by "joined me" I mean that they were mulling about the stadium when they saw me running and asked if they could join in. I laughed and said "Of course." This impromptu run club has now made it's way into a (semi) regularity and there are a few things that stand out to me when running during the day:

On one of the days we were running, the boys slowed when they made their way to the stadium entrance and noticed their teacher standing there, upon noticing, they then hung back, walked to pass and once past, they caught up to run with me again. As we did laps around the stadium they did this each time and I thought it was pretty strange. When I asked about it, one of the boys said "You're a girl." I gave a puzzled look and they just shrugged their shoulders at me. There are NO girls running at the stadium or doing any activities of any kind (well, except for the Ming softball team when they're playing). When it comes to sports and activities, it is man/boy territory all the way. However, there are mothers with children sitting in the shade while their children toddle around cooing. Some of them give me looks of disapproval and some of them give me looks of support and smiles of encouragement. A few of them have become accustomed to me and their initial looks of disapproval have turned to looks of encouragement (though, I still have some who I haven't been able to convert).A huge group of boys were at the stadium one day, about 40 young boys aged (I would guess) 7-9, who were learning various running and exercise techniques. When the teacher of the class saw me post-run, (I had been there about an hour and he had witnessed me trudging along) he greeted me with a smile and asked how I was doing. I replied warmly and smiled and then asked "Qızlarnı hardadır?" (Where are the girls?) he replied simply that they were at home. When I asked why, he too, shrugged at me and then went back to his students.The shrugging as an answer to questions, I realize, is both a matter of not wanting to explain things like "Girls don't like the heat, girls don't like to run, men will look at girls if they run, etc. etc." and also probably not wanting to explain things to someone whose language abilities, most likely, won't absorb all of it anyway (which is legitimate). It is also, in my opinion, a way of saying, "It is how it is." One phrase I hear frequently is, "It is our tradition." This is in response to cultural questions I ask students, typically when I challenge something that is being said. It seems to me, this is often an easy way to answer critical questions (and an easy way out of answering them).

Another thing that is interesting to me is that people do recognize the need for exercise as a way to stay healthy, but it seems only to extend to boys. Are girls really so different? That they, too, don't need exercise in their life and health? (There are many cultural reasons attached to this as well, which I will address in a future post, I'm trying to cut down on post sizes, since they always seem to be quite lengthy.)

Overall, I now feel like it's important, despite the uncomfortable stares and amused expressions to run when people can see me. Although I am extended quite a bit of latitude for my actions in being a foreigner, perhaps this is step one in making the way for other women to run and exercise as well. One thing worth noting is that once a girl turns 13, families become exceedingly stricter with her activities, although you will find girls beneath this age outside running around, past this age becomes "inappropriate." Due, in large part, to puberty.

A friend of mine recently wrote a blog post about the interesting perspective on teaching girls sports in Azerbaijan, which I would encourage you to read as well. You can read that link here.

In my last post, I mentioned the report recently released by the UN, Progress of the World's Women: In Pursuit of Justice, but failed to mention how Azerbaijan performed within the report.

Azerbaijan seems fairly progressive in its laws regarding women. Article 25 of the Azerbaijani Constitution includes equality for both men and women and was the major basis for the inclusion of women in the Employment, Penal and Marriage & Family codes. It includes international treaties in its legislation, allowing courts to make direct reference to Article 1 of the UN's Convention on the Elimination of Discrimination Against Women. In 2006, it passed a law on gender equality, defining gender based discrimination as "any distinction, exclusion or restriction, exercised on the basis of gender, including sexual harassment." However, despite its de jure equality, Azerbaijan's laws regarding equality are rarely enforced and women are rarely informed. In general, Azerbaijan's culture is one which does not (seem to) support these equalities.

According to the report, in 18 out of 30 countries, more than half of the women interviewed reported having no say in household decisions. In Azerbaijan, almost 60% of women aged 15-49 (who are currently in a marriage or union) reported a lack of autonomy. This includes having no say in personal health care, large household purchases, purchases for daily needs and visits to family and relatives. This seems accurate. In working with young women (university students, ages 19-23) I am sometimes surprised by the lack of autonomy. While they're living at home, it is, as one might expect, parents who make decisions for girls, but what may not be expected is that it is also the girl's brother(s) who makes decisions for her. These may include the way a girl dresses, when (and how much) she cuts her hair, how much make-up she wears and the people she spends her free time with. When women get married, depending on who she marries, those decisions often fall to her husband and sometimes, her mother-in-law. This is, of course, not the case for every woman, but women here seem to follow the directions of others far more than the directions of themselves.

Pregnancy and childbirth are the leading causes of death for girls aged 15-19 in developing countries, with child mortality increasing by 60% if the mother is under the age of 18. In the report, economist Amartya Sen estimated that 100 million women were 'missing' in Asia due to prenatal sex selection, neglect and infanticide. New estimates put the figure at 134 million. The under five mortality rate for children is significantly higher for girls, despite their biological predisposition to having higher survival rates than boys. In Azerbaijan, there has been a significant increase over the last 20 years in the male to female birth ratio. The biologically normal sex ratio at birth is approximately 102-106 boys for ever 100 girls. In 1990, Azerbaijan's birth ratios reflected this norm, now, however, Azerbaijan averages approximately 117 boys for every 100 female births. It is quite probable this is due to an increase in ultrasound technology and sex selective abortions (especially in a culture which values sons).

The report continues on, discussing items like female representation in law, domestic and sexual violence, health and wellness concerns and women in the legal system. Despite it's length, the report has some valuable information about countries and their attitudes towards women and is certainly worth reading.

Although Azerbaijan certainly didn't stand out as the worst country in its attitudes toward women, and I will concede its laws are extremely progressive (when compared to some of the other countries outlined in the report), it still has great strides to make in ensuring the rights of women. It is one thing for a country to enact laws which support equality and it is entirely another to enforce them.

The subject matter addressed in this blog post is graphic and addresses the atrocious rape of women, some of these acts are of stunning brutality. Please note this before reading further.

The UN recently released Progress of the World's Women: In Pursuit of Justice, a report offering a comprehensive global review of womens' rights around the world. The report focuses on items such as gender based violence, equal pay, number of women represented in government and post-conflict justice.

The report is a bit of a paradox. Although it reports that there has been a significant increase in laws supporting the rights of women, it also reports that these new laws are rarely enforced.

Despite major progress on legal frameworks, millions of women report experiencing violence in their lifetime, usually at the hands of an intimate partner. Meanwhile, the specific targeting of women for brutal sexual violence is a hallmark of modern conflicts....Although equality between women and men is guaranteed in the Constitutions of 139 countries and territories, inadequate laws and implementation gaps make these guarantees hollow promises, having little impact on the day-to-day lives of women. In many contexts, in rich and poor countries alike, the infrastructure of justice – the police, the courts and the judiciary – is failing women, which manifests itself in poor services and hostile attitudes from the very people whose duty it is to meet women’s rights.

In reading this report, I couldn't help but think again of the book I'm currently reading, Half the Sky. (I wrote about the book in my last post.) In the section I'm reading now, rape is discussed in depth and in gory detail. One of the topics the book examines is the current state of rape as used in warfare. While reading, one country stood out more than any other (due to its abominable crimes), that of the eastern Congo.

Its methods are as equally horrifying as they are sickening. The author writes, "Militia members consider it risky to engage in firefights with other gunmen, so instead they assault civilians." What this means is instead of killing men with weapons, soldiers are violently and systematically raping women. They rape women by tearing their insides with knives, sticks, bayonets or fire their gun into a woman's vagina. One such case wasn't a woman, but instead a three year old girl. Soldiers raped her and then fired a gun inside her "When surgeons saw her, there was no tissue left to repair. The little girl's grief stricken father then committed suicide."

In just the Congolese province of South Kivu, the UN estimates that there were twenty-seven thousand sexual assaults in 2006. 27,000! And these statistics are not old, the rapes continue.

Here's information gathered from an article by Jeffrey Gettelman, Rapes Are Again Reported in Eastern Congo, posted in February of this year:

Aid workers in Fizi said more than 150 people had been raped since the beginning of the year, with at least five cases of large groups of people being attacked at the same time, often going or coming from local markets.

Gettelman further notes:

The Congolese government's hold on the country is notoriously weak with large stretches of land outside its control.

These are some of the horrific challenges facing women and they're happening right now, as you read this very page. Acts of rape are, to me, one of the worst acts a woman would ever have to face and they're happening all around the world.

In rural Pakistan, women are raped as a punishment for a crime committed by a family member. The story of Mukhtar is one such story. Her brother was accused of committing a crime and, as punishment, the tribal council sentenced Mukhtar, the sister of the accused, to be gang raped. Four men dragged her kicking and screaming into an empty stable next to the meeting area and, as a crowd waited outside, they stripped and raped her one by one. Typically, after such a shame occurs, the girl has no choice but to commit suicide, as is the only way to restore the family's honor. Rape, regardless of the circumstances, always makes the girl unclean, as she no longer retains her virginity. The only way cleanse the family of shame is to kill herself.

Reading these stories made me cry and they left me nauseated, writing about them have brought back these feelings. I'll confess I debated over whether or not I wanted to document these stories with such candor. They're uncomfortable. They're sickening.

But we should be uncomfortable and we should be sickened. This is our world and these things are happening! We should, each of us, be doing something about it.

Half the Sky, offers ways for you to get involved, so get moving! Don't shrug off these stories, help stop them.

Find ways you can help at: http://www.halftheskymovement.org/get-involved

I've recently been reading a book titled Half the Sky. I haven't finished it yet, but I've spent a few days engrossed in its pages. Half the Sky outlines how the world is failing women, specifically covering: sex trafficking/forced prostitution, gender-based violence (including rape and "honor" killings) and maternal mortality.

The book is disturbing, rightfully so. It talks about women being stolen from their families or tricked into prostitution. These women ("women" seems an inappropriate term, as they are often girls in their early or mid-teens) are young and they're desperate to help make money for their families. Traffickers prey on this desperation, promising positions as dishwashers in hotels or restaurant jobs. These positions are often in other countries or regions. Parents will sometimes allow it because there is a group of girls from their village going. Once the girls are taken, they're beaten into submission, often drugged to appear willing and/or "happy". It is difficult, near impossible, to escape. Girls are unable to communicate, as they are often taken to countries where they don't speak the language and if they can escape, often the local authorities are either on the payroll or using the services of the brothel, and will return the girl to the brothel where she is then punished severely, if not killed.

The book highlights individual stories. It shows pictures of girls who have been beaten. One girl whose eye was stabbed out for disobeying. Some girls are killed for their disobedience or made to watch a girl be killed for her disobedience ensuring the rest of the girls don't act the same. Some girls are kept naked, making it more difficult to escape. The girls are forced not to wear condoms because clients "don't like" them. Girls become pregnant by clients and the children are further used as leverage, separating mother and child. Boys become servants and girls become, when of age, prostitutes. Girls become infected with HIV. Clients often request virgins so they don't have to use condoms or put themselves at risk for STDs. This makes the stealing of young girls even more lucrative, sometimes stealing or kidnapping a girl who hasn't yet reached puberty and keeping her until she has done so.

The book is maddening. How can we be allowing things like this to continue? The authors talk about our (our as in "Americans") general apathy toward these situations. Discussing the reading of these stories, but then shrugging them off as something happening in a distant nation, far away and feeling removed from it. Basically saying, it's not our problem.

But it is our problem. How can it not be? As a person I can't help but feel outraged, as a woman, even more so. The things these women are being subjected to are most egregious.

As I've been reading this book, I can't help but think of Azerbaijan. I read an article recently which discusses Azerbaijan's listing on the Tier 2 Watchlist for Trafficking in Persons. The report states:

Azerbaijan is primarily a source and transit country for men, women, and children trafficked for the purposes of commercial sexual exploitation and forced labor; women and some children from Azerbaijan are trafficked to Turkey and the UAE for the purpose of sexual exploitation; men and boys are trafficked to Russia for the purpose of forced labor; Azerbaijan serves as a transit country for victims from Uzbekistan, Kyrgyzstan, Kazakhstan, and Moldova trafficked to Turkey and the UAE for sexual exploitation

Azerbaijan is on the Tier 2 Watch List for its failure to provide evidence of increasing efforts to combat trafficking in persons, particularly efforts to investigate, prosecute, and punish traffickers; to address complicity among law enforcement personnel; and to adequately identify and protect victims in Azerbaijan; the government has yet to develop a much-needed mechanism to identify potential trafficking victims and refer them to safety and care; poor treatment of trafficking victims in courtrooms continues to be a problem.

One of the biggest challenges in dealing with trafficking problems, is that countries have anti-trafficking laws, but often don't enforce them. What the book highlights, however, is often when these things are highlighted in the media and the countries engaging in such activities are subjected to embarrassment, countries will begin to modify their approach (often leading local authorities who were once on the payroll of brothels or engaging in the services offered, to start enforcing the laws instead of avoiding them).

The Half the Sky website (as well as the book) gives ways everyone can become involved in helping address the needs of women worldwide. Please be sure to check it out at: http://www.halftheskymovement.org/

Today was, by far, my favorite camp day. The schedule stayed the same with music and photo sessions being the main focus for the day. Today, however, for photo we broke students up into smaller groups and then took them on treks into town.

The first group I had was an older group of students (ages 14-16). As we wandered around town we picked figs (I had never had one before, they were delicious!) which were hanging off into the street, took photos and talked about our future lives. I spent my time with about 4 girls who told me they wanted to be lawyers and economists. As I walked and talked with them, I realized what I would like to focus on in my post-Peace Corps life (I'll try and post about that later, this blog post is about camp). I enjoyed hearing about the girls' plans, but sometimes I wonder how many of them will continue on with their plans or, especially here in Azerbaijan, change their plans and instead marry before being able (or perhaps instead of being able) to pursue their career or life goals. I think here in the northern part of thecountry, the focus is just a little different. As I talked with one of my fellow friends and PCVs (who lives and works in this region), he told me of a conversation he had with one of the girl's fathers. Her father summarized by saying, "My daughter is smart, who am I to tell her she can't? She can do anything she wants." The outlook in this region just seems so much different.

My second group, was a younger group of girls (ages 11-13) and these girls were some of my favorites (favorites! I'm not supposed to have favorites!), favorite as in I enjoyed my time with them a great deal. As we went to explore the city our group didn't make it very far, as we started to pass the local mosque, the girls wanted to go in and take photos. I spoke with the man at the gate and he gave us permission to come in and take photographs, he also allowed us to climb the tower that resides on the property (it's the location of the speakers which announce the call to prayer). As we climbed the narrow tower stairs, we discovered bird eggs and a pair of birds nesting on the stairs near our feet. When we got to the top, there was a short railing which made me extremely paranoid, as I then went into "mom mode" and envisioned "plummeting to their death" scenarios. The girls were extremely excited to be so far above the city and the view of the mountains and of Balaken city were beautiful (despite my heart racing the entire time, because I was certain I was going to have to call and notify parents). We spent the majority of our time on the mosque grounds taking pictures of one another. I took close to 200 pictures there alone.

Later in the day there was a capture the flag game. One of my favorite photos from the day was this last one where we had all the flag participants leap into the air after the game.

It was a great day. Tomorrow I travel home to Mingachevir a little sunburned, but a lot happy.

Day THREE! Wow. The days are flying by! Today's camp was fantastic! Students had music and photo sessions today. During the photo session, we took students around Balaken and had them take photos of things they found interesting (ensuring they asked people for permission if they wanted to take a stranger's photo). This was a great opportunity to get to know the students better, as we had more time to talk as we walked and take photos. This one to the right was shot by one of the kids (and I find it really funny).

Music was fun too. I had been sprayed with water by one of the counselors earlier in the day and warned him, "I will get you back, you won't know when, you won't know how, but it will happen." Well, it happened. During his music session, he made the most egregious error of using water in bottles as musical instruments. What he didn't realize is that in being a late arrival to camp, I had many allies, many allies who would conspire with me to get even. (Some of the counselors were staggered in scheduling because committing to an entire week of camp can be a bit too long to be away from site, but a few days are must more manageable.) I then began to whisper to small groups of youth and asked them if they would be interested in pouring their water on one unsuspecting counselor, I'm pleased to tell you they were. He's not as happy to tell you they were, because at the same time 15 bottles of water were dumped on our music counselor. I'm laughing as I write this because the look on his face was one of pure surprise and one that said "The campers have turned against me!" I gave him a knowing glance. It was a great moment.

After camp, we counselors went to eat some xangel at one of the local restaurants. Xangel is a meat filled pasta, which is delicious. Later in the day we played softball at the local field. We had a blast. (I'll admit, I was feeling pretty exhausted, we've had a busy and very full few days and it's been HOT!) I'm happy to say, Laser Squirrels won the game (that would be our team).

I'll be in Balaken for just one more days of camp, with the pressure from some students I've become close to (and from PCVs) to stay longer, it makes it hard(er) to say goodbye! But I miss my Ming friends and students and have some work I need to complete (PCV reports are due soon too).

Day 2 of camp was a smashing success! Students showed up bright eyed and energized. They started off the day practicing their dance routine (there will be a showcase on Saturday) and finished with writing scripts (which they will perform during the showcase). Two of the girls asked me to be the "mom" in their production, unfortunately, I had to be killed off in the end (well, not really the end, in the beginning). I had fun practicing my dying scene (I had the misfortune of being shot). I was certain during practice to die in a most dramatic fashion and then, of course, rise a few times before eventually (after much coughing and groaning) dying in the end. Unfortunately, I will not be at the camp long enough to perform this epic role, but I assured them they would find someone equally ridiculous.

After camp, the counselors went to dinner where we enjoyed food and drinks all of us together. We followed it with visiting a gigantic park which had, no kidding, cotton candy and ice cream. I happily ate one of each and then in true "carnival" fashion, rode a few rides (the park has a ferris wheel and one of those big ships that rock back and forth).

I would like to express how much the ferris wheel was inappropriately titled, a more appropriate name might be "The Wheel of Death." Yes. I have not seen the likes of such a wheel anywhere. The outside was quite pleasant looking, but I'm certain it was a trick. Upon boarding, what is immediately noticeable is that the seats were eerily shallow, and when traveling to the top, one couldn't help but think, "Hmm, I'm entirely sure death is imminent." If you weren't thinking about the trip backward onto the pavement below (and smashing into a million pieces) then you were thinking about the cart above you which was, certainly and at any moment, going to pummel you with it's shaky carriage. After the ride, I was deeply relieved to have my feet firmly planted on the ground.

Afterwards, I continued my childlike activities by racing my friend, Matt, to a giant statue of the late Heydar Alivev. I lost (badly) and on our walk back to the rest of the group he said "Yeah, I ran track and field all through school." (I'm certain even if he hadn't, he still would have won.) I just wanted to run as fast as I could for a few minutes, it felt great.

The day was filled with sun, high fives and a lot of laughter. It was a fantastic day 2 of camp.

On Sunday I traveled north to Balaken, a region located a mere 40 kilometers from Georgia and a stone's throw away from the Russian border, for an Arts camp some of my fellow PCVs put together. I haven't been back to the northern region since PST (Pre-Service Training) when I did my site visit to Zaqatala, and that was back in October of last year. Being in this part of the country is such a different experience than that of other regions. Azerbaijan is really quite a fascinating country. Despite its small size, the cultural diversity from one region to another is sometimes astounding, much of it stemming from the countries which the region is located closest to (Russian influence vs. Iranian influence, for example). In the northern regions, there's more Russian influence. Here in Balaken there are lush green mountains and the streets are clean and kept. People are extremely friendly and there's a lot of smiling when talking to a xanim in a shop or on the street. If I say “Salam” to a woman here whose eye I’ve caught, the reaction is a smile and hello in return. (This is not always the case in other regions where women will eye you suspiciously, including in my own community.) There are various languages spoken: Russian, Azerbaijani and Avar. (Historical fact, the Avar culture stems from a name given to a group of nomads from inner and central Asia living near the Danube River basin and throughout the Carpathian Basin from the 6th-9th century AD. The name "Avar" comes from the "Avarian state" which was the first to be under one rule in the Carpathian Basin.) Yesterday, as I walked to camp with one of the girls who would be attending, I started to speak Azeri to her, she looked at me puzzled and said in English "I speak Avar." This has made for an interesting camp experience. Bailey, the PCV who I'm staying with and who resides in this northern city, told me about the language differences before we went to camp. This post ended up getting away from me, my intention was to talk about how fantastic our first day of camp was, so instead I’ll briefly summarize. Yesterday the students (28 students, girls and boys, ranging in age from 11-16) learned dance moves, played ultimate frisbee, made friendship bracelets, wrote stories and tie-dyed t-shirts. I will summarize by saying, it was an incredible day. We ate watermelon, laughed, shouted, enjoyed beautiful sunshine and had a truly fantastic day. The camp continues all week long, with activities ranging from dancing to music to skits. Today starts day two and I can’t wait to see what it will bring! Side note: With the languages, there are counter-parts here who are helping with language translation and the 3 PCVs who reside in this region have fantastic language skills. I do a lot of hand motioning when there aren’t PCVs/counter-parts around to convey a point. Somehow these situations always seem to work out….

It's been a while since my last post, it's been hard finding a quiet moment. Summer is technically not here yet, but the summer activities and sweltering heat are in full swing. I feel like the past month has been non-stop movement; whether that be traveling to various places for training or just staying put in my own city and being extremely busy.

We just (just, as in 30 minutes ago) finished the Training Of Trainers (TOT) for our upcoming girls leadership camp. The training was a great success (despite a few "to-be-expected" hiccups which come in organizing an event).

Yesterday was long. I left my house with Lannea, my friend and housemate (for the weekend) at 8:15 yesterday and we came back at 11:00pm, the rest in between was filled with leading training sessions, teaching games and navigating some hot temperatures (our training room was pretty warm).

This week is certain to be busy. I have some projects that I'll start back up on and then this weekend I'll be heading up north to help with a summer camp. Before I know it, July will be in full swing and the summer will be coming to an end. Summer, I'm told, is the busiest season and seems to pass in a blur. In July, my sitemate and I will start a drama club. Ming has a great stage at one of the community parks that we're hoping to use for a "end-of-club" performance.

We're lucky here in Ming because we have swimming. In the summer, many people head to the reservoir for swimming. Our city gets pretty hot (I can attest to this as the nights have been quite warm recently when attempting to sleep) so having somewhere to offer respite from the summer heat will be nice.

Things are good. I miss family and friends in the states for certain, but I'm doing well and am continuing to do work that (I feel) is important.

Oh! Additionally, my counter-part Tural will be heading to America for a few weeks of training on tourism. This is extremely exciting and he just found out yesterday. Today I'm helping him with his VISA application.

I'll try to be better about posting in the future!

Thunder is currently rumbling across a dark sky and rapid raindrops are pitter-pattering across my windowpanes. The scent of of soil and water has made its way into my dimly lit room and the sound of men slamming dominoes on the table at the cayxana next door have faded with the storm's onset.

Thunderstorms often remind me of home. I remember sitting on the front porch of my childhood home and watching the sky change colors as storm clouds rolled in. I remember the ever faint sprinkle of moisture on my face when raindrops were captured in the wind's tight grasp and dusted onto eyelashes of eyes closed in quiet contentment.

I haven't written in a bit. This is primarily because I've been traveling a fair amount (I have plans to head out again in the morning). Last Thursday I traveled to Lənkəran to visit one of my PCV friends and stayed the weekend. I feel like I have so much to talk about from this trip. First, the bus ride down is nothing to be envied. It's an 8 hour trip on a bus which trudges slowly along and lacks the number of windows one would want on a bus lacking air conditioning. However, I've talked before about how much I enjoy meeting people on bus rides here. If I ever I were to write a book, it would be about bus travel because I find I always have very interesting experiences. This time I met a woman by the name of Kamila. She bought me tea when we stopped for our lunch break and then asked me to come and sit beside her for the remainder of our journey. She also invited me to come and visit her home while I was in Lənkəran, which I unfortunately did not do.

Upon arriving in Lank, I met up with Aaron (PCV buddy) at his house and we went to IREX for his evening conversation club. There I met a few students who were home for the summer from their studies in America. I love talking to students about their travels abroad. One of the girls had even applied to a program I'm helping out with. It's such a small world.

On Friday, Aaron took me around to see the city. We dined with a few of the men from his conversation club for lunch and I ate Toyuq Ləvəngi which is a dish native to Lənkəran. (My host mom in Xirdalan had actually prepared this for me when I lived there because she's from Lank herself and it is my favorite Azeri dish, but only when she prepares it, I don't know what she does different, but her Ləvəngi is the absolute best.) I ate so much food at lunch! Being a guest is hard work, but somebody has to do it! :) After lunch we went to the Caspian seaside and then followed it up with a koktəl (cocktail) which here is really cold (almost frozen) frothed milk and syrup. It was delicious! That night I met the Lənkəran crew (there are a group of about 6 PCVs who are good friends and get together occasionally for games and comraderie). At Eli and Mason's house I played a new card game called Sheepshead, a game which (I'm told) hails from Wisconsin and has approximately 1,443, 876 rules. I lost (badly) but I played big.

Saturday was one of my most favorite days. While Aaron was lounging around back at his house, I went off to explore a little on my own, including heading off to the bizarre. I love the Lənkəran bizarre! There are so many interesting things to see and on a Saturday morning it is alive and awake with activity. People shout out to you to buy things and lead you over to look at some of their beans, rice, fish etc. I chatted with vendors and talked people down in prices (I bought some fruit for a fruit salad). One of the things I like best about Lənkəran is that it has things that can be found only in Lənkəran. They make bags and hats out of....seagrass? (They remind me of what you see women make in the market in Charleston, SC.) They have their own (incredibly delicious) tea. They also have Talysh socks. Later in the day I went to visit Aaron's host family where I met his host mom who, I'm convinced, is one of the kindest and happiest women in all of Azerbaijan.

I left on Sunday morning at 8 am, the 8 hour trip starts early. I had the same driver and driver assistant (who I refer to as the driver's "first-mate" or just "Smee"). We chatted a little and expressed our pleasure in seeing one another again. This time on our lunch-stop, the driver asked me to join them for lunch where I proceeded, again, to eat so much food! (So much!) And drink about 4 glasses of atlama. (It's a thin yogurt that's served cold with diced greens like cilantro, celery, cucumber and others. It's delicious. However, when it's cooked it's called dovğa and then I do not like it.)

Overall, it was one of the best adventures I've had (yet) in Azerbaijan. It was a fun weekend filled with good people, food and locale.

Although my life frequently feels like a rendition of the "hokey-pokey" that is not in fact what this post is "all about." This post is, instead, a shout out to the reasons why I joined Peace Corps in the first place.

I love what I'm doing here. I have amazing students who are dedicated, friendly, eager and extremely kind. They are patient and respectful of one another (and me). They invite me to their homes and allow me to be a part of their lives. I feel privileged.

Today I went to visit the family of one of my students. She lives a little further into Mingachevir, although not quite in the village region. I ate. And I ate. And I ate. And I drank. And I drank. And I drank. (Tea, of course.) When I didn't think I could eat anymore, her mother looked at me and said, "Why do you eat so little?" I've learned to use humor in these situations to prevent eating an uncomfortable amount by turning it back on the moms saying "Why do you eat so little?" We then all laughed. (I cannot stress how important a sense of humor is in PC life.)

After our enormous meal, I went outside with the girls (two of my students were there, one was the student I was visiting and the other her best friend) and her nieces. We played with a ball for a little bit, tossing it around "volleyball style," taking the time to throw it to the little ones who wanted to be included too. (Ah, I remember that feeling when I was younger.)

Afterwards, my student showed me her garden and we walked around the grounds of her home. We then took the little ones and went for a walk. On my walk I held hands with her 6 year old niece who had me laughing the entire time. She talked. And talked. And talked. (I can relate to this too.) She told me Azeri stories and poems after being inspired by some goats we saw munching on tree branches. At one point she took a break and said, "If I get tired when I talk, I drink water and then I can talk more." We walked some more and my student, worried for me, asked if I wanted her to hold her niece's hand instead. I assured her I was fine (more than fine, I was elated). We also brought her 3 year old niece who fell asleep in my arms (or just the one since the other arm and hand was busy holding the hand of my new friend).

One of the things I know I've talked about, but perhaps haven't mentioned it enough recently, is how absolutely wonderful people in Azerbaijan are. My students (and their families) tell me often how welcome I am to come to their home (and to come any time). They genuinely mean it too.

I've decided finding kindness in a new place isn't so very difficult. I think it just takes an open mind and open heart. (Yes, I realize the full amount of "cheese" that line just gave, but I stand by it.)

Cheers to a great day, filled with great people and great times.

It's 5:05 am here in Azerbaijan currently and there has not one day since I've been in country that I've stayed up so late, so what's the occasion? Eurovision.

In 1955, the EBU came up with the idea of an international song contest whereby countries, represeted by their respective public broadcasters, would participate in one television show, to be transmitted simultaneously in all represented nations. This was conceived during a meeting in Monaco in 1955 by Marcel Bezençon, a Frenchman working for the EBU. The competition was based upon the Italian Festival di Sanremo, held for the first time in 1951, and was also seen as a technological experiment in live television: In those days, it was a very ambitious project to join many countries together in a wide-area international network. Satellite television did not exist yet at that time, and the Eurovision Network comprised a terrestrial microwave network. Le Grand-Prix Eurovision de la Chanson Européenne was born!

Tonight was the finals, this is when all the countries who have advanced to the final round, sing their original song and countries then vote for their favorite song. Although you're most likely thinking of the "American Idol" voting system, this one is a tad more complex. I will explain it as it was explained to me (although, I was reading around a little and read that this isn't exactly it either), voters in a country send text messages to a number to vote for their favorite song, at the end, an "electorate" from that country "casts their ballet" for their top winners, assigning points of: 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,10,12. 43 countries vote. The votes are cast in a dramatic fashion and the 43 representatives are televised, witnessing the points accumulate actually reminds me of election years in the states. Voters are not permitted to vote for their own country, this is to ensure fairness to all countries. I found the most interesting thing in the voting was predicting who countries would vote for, it's really quite political.

Because time is far past my bedtime, I'll summarize this post by saying, after the votes were counted AZERBAIJAN WON!! It was so exciting! I watched this late event (being broadcast from Germany) with a few of my students and one of my sitemates. It was a BLAST!

If you have time, you should check out Azerbaijan's winners, Ell and Nikki's video and for fun, be sure to look at Moldova's bizarre (and laughter inducing) performance. (It's not yet posted or I would send you a link.

Good night (er, morning) friends! Congratulations Azerbaijan!

What do you do all day? One of my friends recently asked me this question in an email. I think it's a fairly common question asked to PCVs, so I thought I'd write a blog post about it.

As you can probably imagine each Peace Corps volunteer's experience is different, as is their work, even if the program is the same. It varies from country to country and, within the country, region to region. As you have probably noted by now, my location is fairly modern, at least when considering what people think a "typical PCV experience" is like (a mud hut in the middle of Africa with no running water, right?). I happen to live in a city. I live in my own Soviet era apartment with running water, gas and amenities. The city I live in has a pretty stable infrastructure which means we have pretty regular access to gas and electricity. When the electricity goes out, it comes back on fairly quickly, whereas in other regions, it may be out for days.

With that said, my days are (typically) quite full. My regular course days are on Monday, Wednesday and Friday. I teach 3 courses; two TOEFL classes and an English conversation club. Tuesday and Thursdays are open days and I typically spend these tutoring. Currently, I'm tutoring a few of my TOEFL students on writing a five paragraph essay. Today I have 3 appointments with students starting at 1 pm. On these days, I also work with my counter-part on various items for our organization (working on ideas like developing a budget to discussing grant opportunities).

I also serve on three committees, these are committees which are country wide and not just limited to my community. These committees are:

1. The Writing Olympics committee, I'm currently working on putting together an awards ceremony for the winning students and their families, as well compiling their essays for print.

2. The Training of Trainers (TOT) committee for GLOW (Girls Leading Our World) Camp. Our committee is currently reviewing applications from women throughout Azerbaijan to be facilitators at the camp (more like camp counselor+facilitator+teacher). I just negotiated a location for the women to room. This was a definite source of pride for me because it shows I've been able to build relationships in my own community (we're holding the training here in Ming). I'm also working with one of my sitemates on creating one of the training sessions.

3. The Programming and Training Advisory Committee (PTAC) is comprised of PCVs and PC staff. Members work together to improve and develop training in PC Azerbaijan. This is a committee PC Washington requires in all PC countries. The committee meets 4 times each year and because I am a newly selected member, I can't really give you more than the blurb which we received when they were seeking applications. It peeked my interest in EST (Early Service Training) and I applied.

I also read and correct essays, prepare lesson plans and go guesting. In between, I send a LOT of e-mails. I honestly don't know what people do without the internet because it's how we send reports and often receive PC information. They just changed our reporting to a computer database when the AZ8s began their service and now we email digital files for reporting information. (We report on things like "number of people served" etc.)

I stay really busy, but it's great! I really do enjoy my work.

What do you do all day? One of my friends recently asked me this question in an email. I think it's a fairly common question asked to PCVs, so I thought I'd write a blog post about it.

As you can probably imagine each Peace Corps volunteer's experience is different, as is their work, even if the program is the same. It varies from country to country and, within the country, region to region. As you have probably noted by now, my location is fairly modern, at least when considering what people think a "typical PCV experience" is like (a mud hut in the middle of Africa with no running water, right?). I happen to live in a city. I live in my own Soviet era apartment with running water, gas and amenities. The city I live in has a pretty stable infrastructure which means we have pretty regular access to gas and electricity. When the electricity goes out, it comes back on fairly quickly, whereas in other regions, it may be out for days.

With that said, my days are (typically) quite full. My regular course days are on Monday, Wednesday and Friday. I teach 3 courses; two TOEFL classes and an English conversation club. Tuesday and Thursdays are open days and I typically spend these tutoring. Currently, I'm tutoring a few of my TOEFL students on writing a five paragraph essay. Today I have 3 appointments with students starting at 1 pm. On these days, I also work with my counter-part on various items for our organization (working on ideas like developing a budget to discussing grant opportunities).

I also serve on three committees, these are committees which are country wide and not just limited to my community. These committees are:

1. The Writing Olympics committee, I'm currently working on putting together an awards ceremony for the winning students and their families, as well compiling their essays for print.

2. The Training of Trainers (TOT) committee for GLOW (Girls Leading Our World) Camp. Our committee is currently reviewing applications from women throughout Azerbaijan to be facilitators at the camp (more like camp counselor+facilitator+teacher). I just negotiated a location for the women to room. This was a definite source of pride for me because it shows I've been able to build relationships in my own community (we're holding the training here in Ming). I'm also working with one of my sitemates on creating one of the training sessions.

3. The Programming and Training Advisory Committee (PTAC) is comprised of PCVs and PC staff. Members work together to improve and develop training in PC Azerbaijan. This is a committee PC Washington requires in all PC countries. The committee meets 4 times each year and because I am a newly selected member, I can't really give you more than the blurb which we received when they were seeking applications. It peeked my interest in EST (Early Service Training) and I applied.

I also read and correct essays, prepare lesson plans and go guesting. In between, I send a LOT of e-mails. I honestly don't know what people do without the internet because it's how we send reports and often receive PC information. They just changed our reporting to a computer database when the AZ8s began their service and now we email digital files for reporting information. (We report on things like "number of people served" etc.)

I stay really busy, but it's great! I really do enjoy my work.

I read a New York Times article today which I found deeply disturbing and my support goes out to all the women in the article who spoke out about their sexual assault.

I won't lie to you, I typically stay away from articles such as these while serving, they scare me. However, I frequently receive them from concerned friends and family and make my way through them if only so I can decide what my thoughts are. (People are curious, I think they read an article and think, "Oh! I know someone in the Peace Corps, I wonder what she thinks." Thus link is inserted and send is selected.)

In reading the article, there were some things which stuck out to me. First, was Mr. Aaron Williams, Peace Corps Director's statement "We do not place Peace Corps volunteers in unsafe environments." I think that is a ridiculous statement to make. I mean, there's just no way Peace Corps can guarantee that. You cannot guarantee that the Peace Corps Volunteers, who serve in 77 countries worldwide, aren't going to encounter safety issues. I should like to think they wouldn't knowingly do so, but certainly that cannot be assured. I don't hold Peace Corps accountable for my safety on a local level, that is on me and the relationships I've developed here. I hold Peace Corps accountable for evacuating me should there be a national crises in which I need to leave the country or if I need assistance of some kind which I can't get locally, but mostly I live my life in my community like I would in the U.S. (with some major changes, obviously) but my point is the majority of my safety is up to me, not to Peace Corps.

The article states "in the years 2000-2009, 22 Peace Corps women each year report being the victims of rape or attempted rape." One woman being raped is far too many, in my opinion, but I wanted to gain some perspective for my own piece of mind. So I did some research.

In Peace Corps there are currently 8,655 volunteers serving; 60% women and 40% men. 60% of 8,655 is 5,193 women, 22 women of 5,193 is 0.00424%. Even if we incorporate the number of women who don't report, let's double it to 44 women of 5,193 and our number becomes 0.0085%. As a whole, these numbers offer me some reassurance.

However, what this article points out is how poorly victims are being treated (or not treated) by the very people who should be the most influential in the rehabilitation of the victims and retribution of their assailants. The idea that Peace Corps D.C. is treating victims as though they are to blame for such incidences is preposterous and completely unacceptable.

I cannot imagine being raped. I don't want to, but added to the horrendous nature of such a crime, having something like that happen to me in a country where the laws don't (always) protect women from these types of assaults just seems so much worse. To my understanding, we are, as PCVs, limited to the laws of the country we're serving in. If those laws don't protect women against rape and sexual assaults the perpetrator often goes unpunished. Women serving in the U.S. military deal with the same problem while on active duty abroad. What that leaves as an option for the victims is rehabilitation and Peace Corps D.C. is falling short. That should be Mr. Williams top concern and primary concentration.

Peace Corps in my service country has been incredibly responsive to any type of security issues I've had. Our Security Officer is extremely supportive and encourages people to call him anytime they feel unsafe (as my previous entries have reported, I have used that number). He has made contact with the local authorities on my behalf when I had the incident at my apartment. I have had several harassment problems here and our Country Director called and talked with me for a while after having communicated with our Safety Officer. Communication between these two is pretty essential, and here it is happening. However, each Peace Corps country is unique and each staff interacts differently.

My thanks to each of these women who have been brave enough to share their story.

I started running in Ming around the same time I moved out of my host family's house. I run early in the morning, typically around 7 am (occasionally I get a late start because bed just feels too cozy, but even then it's around 8 am) and run at the stadium next to my building.

Because I'm becoming more frequent on the running circuit I have some running friends. Now, I use this term quite loosely. There's one older guy (white haired) who runs in a teal track-suit and does push-ups on one of the stadium chairs when he's done running. I'm pretty impressed. He's there almost every day I'm there and we give one another the "acknowledgement nod." There is also a much older man who walks the circuit with a cane. Sometimes he takes breaks and uses the fence to hold himself up. I admire his persistence. He's there every time I am. There are a series of young men who run there, but no one really consistent.

This morning's run was a little more comical because I'm feeling more comfortable. Post-run I did some lunges (my goal is to eventually make it around the whole track in a series of lunges and still be able to walk home, today I made it past about three chairs.....kidding, I did a little better than that, but I'm rusty). While performing my lunges, a few of the young men who finished their run (or perhaps just took a break) decided to take seats in the stands (front-row) and just stare at me, doing my lunges. Yep, today I had an audience. They could have at least cheered.....

Additionally, I had one guy who was running around the track and when he noticed a woman was jogging he STOPPED running and just stared open mouthed. It was hilarious. I just kept jogging and stared at the ground. I also ran all the way back to my apartment (and by "all the way" I mean the whole 100 feet from the stadium to my apartment building). On my way home there was an older man who was crossing the road who stopped, turned and stared as I ran by, just stood in the middle of the street, staring. The thing that amuses me about this is that there are some female foreigners (they're athletes who use the Olympic center) who come into town and I occasionally see them running. I would think I wouldn't be such a novelty.

I also wear headphones on my run. I'm always impressed by people I see running with ear-buds in, I'm a little klutzier than that. My hand gets caught in the cord, one of the buds come out, my groove is ruined. I have to rewind the song. It's kind of a question of whether it's even worth bringing my iPod. (It is, if people are yelling out things, I can't hear them). Today, however, I had sweet success and had a great groove going (thank you playlist).

One of the best things about running is that despite the occasional awkward stares, it makes me feel so happy. Some good dance tunes, a good sweat and I come back to my apartment, stretch out and I'm golden, even on a gray day like today. It makes me want so much to get the girls here running or into any type of aerobic activity. I was thinking about it while I was running today, how to work on making that happen. I think I can do it.

My last few entries have been about some of the challenges I've faced while here in AZ, I would like to tell you about some of my recent triumphs (I've made a list):

1. I paid my rent on my own, this might not seem like a big deal, but it required calling my landlord and arranging payment on my own (I don't know if you know this, but talking in another language on the phone is difficult, you can't infer as much through hand gestures or charades).

2. I successfully collaborated with one of our local hotels to secure a location to hold a training event. This required the art of negotiation and a lot of "looking good." ;) (Those of you who just read that and don't know me, I am teasing, mostly.....)

3. I successfully pulled off two events in one day: 1. The American Ambassador's visit to our organization and 2. A birthday party for my counter-part. Both were, I'm pleased to say, extremely successful.

4. I got a haircut, over 6 inches, and I like it.

5. I did laundry by hand

6. The kids in my neighborhood now know me and instead of choruses of "Hello, Hello" I now receive "Salam Crys" or "Hello Crystal." (It's much more respectful.)

7. I taught my TOEFL class the meaning of "oxymoron" after extending class for an extra 45 minutes (and no one minded).

8. My conversation club is blowing up! I don't know how to fit anymore students in the room, but I try not to say no (as long as everyone is respectful of each other).

9. My sitemate and I are going to form a drama club this summer, it's going to be FANtastic!

10. I am rocking site and all my committees. I'm busy, but I'm doing extremely well and am very happy. I have great students and truly enjoy my work.

Please know if I haven't returned emails, it's because I've been staying busy (it's the same reason I haven't posted in a while, or at least what seems like "a while").

I have these moments where I stand outside of myself here and wonder, "Who is this person?" Truly. Take a person out of their area of comfort, away from their support systems, away from what is familiar and you're left with a semblance of your former self. Okay, perhaps I'm being melodramatic here, but I assure you there are some definite differences in the person I am here versus the person I was at home. I am more trepidatious here and I find my anxiety level is a little higher. This feeling of "on-guard" all the time.

I was talking to one of my sitemates recently about this difference. Here, I like things to be planned out in a neat and orderly way (or at least as much as I can, like class times and org times, I can make that happen). I think I like this because it gives me some sense of control over a life (I feel) I have no control over (we can argue the "do you ever really have control over your life?" some other time, go with me here). Although I will admit that this character trait was pervasive in the states, taking on a schedule with items tucked away in various nooks and crannies, I also had things which allowed me to "let go." I would turn off my phone and computer for weekends. I would take my dog to the beach. I would walk or run. I would paint. I would sit on my front porch and drink coffee and read a book (or on Sunday, The New York Times (in PRINT)). I would play games with the neighborhood kids or draw with sidewalk chalk or tell stories to the granddaughter of my next door neighbor. I discovered long before, in a wintry town in New Hampshire, what worked for me and my sanity; for finding a balance between the busy schedule I had carved out for myself and the quiet, recoup time I needed to keep my schedule packed and to be that social person people knew me to be.

I thought after I moved out and into my own apartment my time would be more my own. I would be able to again find these quiet moments which give my brain a chance to be still. One of my favorite things about painting was in the discovery that when I'm painting my brain is quiet and calm. I'm not thinking about the troubles of the day, nor the e-mail that needs sending, nor the list of things I "should" be doing, it's just, quiet.

Here, it's hard to find that time. There's always a student to tutor, a PCV to hang-out with, a host family to eat with, a course to have, an "insert counter-part need here," an email to answer, a report to write and I'm finding, much to my (what's a softer word for "annoyance"?) knocks on my door to answer. The other thing about living here is, language. Although my language skills are certainly not comparable to some of my PCV friends, I do "okay." I can chat a little with my neighbors and various community members, but it takes a lot to live in another language all day (I am extremely spoiled here in that respect and should not really be listing this, I have a lot (or more than most PCVs) of English speakers in my community and through the development of a sort of pidgin English-Azeri can run (somewhat effective) classes.)

It's not just a time issue, some of it is whether it's culturally appropriate. I run here now, but it's at 7 am and at the stadium which is right next to my house. If I go later, there are multiple people who harass or call out while I'm running. I can't paint, supplies (in places they are available) are really expensive, but drawing and coloring with colored pencils have worked with the same effect. Sitting on my balcony hasn't happened a lot yet, the weather has been a little sad, but I'm hoping this will improve and my time will go up. The other thing about sitting on my balcony is that people want to chat (my neighbors speak Azeri) and sometimes I just don't want to, but I also don't want to be unfriendly! Walking here or exploring is WAY more stressful than you would think. Being a woman and walking in places where people aren't used to seeing a foreigner and being alone (the whole point is for me to be alone and get my head straight) just leads to sensory overload for the dudes who wander around here. The harassment is a nightmare. Additionally, that lovely man I told you about that came drunk and knocking on my door, seems to be a gem of a husband. He and his wife fight non-stop (nothing violent, just a lot of yelling). My headphones have become a near constant companion when I'm home.

Why am I writing this post? Well, because I'm exhausted. I wrote recently about the extremely crazy event that happened here at my apartment and that took a lot out of me. The following week I was traveling for EST, had a little bit of an emotional weekend there too, came home, decided to seek out refuge by going for a trek up to the reservoir and had these jerks harass me and follow me in their car. I'm tired.

These tactics I learned for self preservation in the states have to be modified to fit in here. I'm really trying to find them, so far I haven't been totally successful, but I haven't given up yet, I'm still looking. I also feel better knowing I have supportive friends and a really great Peace Corps staff. That helps too.

Since my last post things seem to have settled down around here. On Friday, the police did indeed come and take a report (that is an entire blog post in and of itself, which I probably can't write in its entirety because I would be leaving out important parts due to this being a public blog). Now to clarify something, I wasn't notifying the police with the expectation that these young men be caught, instead I wanted my neighbors and my little neighborhood here to know that I know the police and, what's more, that I will call them. The calling had the wanted effect, after the police left I met about 12 of my neighbors, the women specifically, which was exactly what I needed.

My neighbor across the hall gave me her phone number and said you CALL me if you have ANY problems and I'll come over and kick some butt. I'm ad-libbing because there were a lot of hand gestures and she made a "sweeping leg" motion. She may have actually said, "I take karate" or "look at this hip dance move" and really I wouldn't be able to tell you. (There are some people I understand clearly in Azeri and some people I just nod at while thinking, "I have no idea...." I understand what I must look like when I make this face, mostly because my students use that same nod and blank expression.) Additionally, there is a family that owns and runs this teeny store kitty-corner to our apartment building. It is extremely close to my apartment. I had chatted with them a little before this whole debacle and when they heard about what happened, they told me "You come out on your balcony and you yell quietly [how do you yell quiet?] and we'll come catch them!"

Knowing your neighbors is essential. People keep checking in and asking if I've had any problems since, I haven't. And what's more, I have not seen those young men hanging out around here since. I know one lives in my apartment building, but he is keeping out of sight and I have no problem with that at all.

So my summary is, for now, I'm staying in my apartment. I feel good about the decision and *fingers crossed* hope to continue to. In the meantime, I've been really busy with work and visiting students. Things are going well.

I thought a lot about this post, mostly about the language I’m about to use. I can tell you that because this is a public blog and because it has the potential to be viewed by future employers, that is the only reason the language in this post isn’t filled with more “colorful” words, which, I believe, would be a much more useful demonstration of last night. Yesterday was a mess of activity and events, all of which were unplanned. My intent was to return home early, enjoy a dinner prior to the 10 o’clock time that seems to have somehow manifested itself as my dining hour and enjoy a nice quiet night with a book (and I may have smuggled in some wine, which I planned on drinking). Due to a few unscheduled events, I made it back to my house just before dark, when the sun was setting, somewhere around 8:58 (nothing like specificity). I mentioned earlier that I’m still new to my neighborhood, which means I don’t yet know my neighbors. I think this is problematic as it hinders others from worrying about me (pros and cons to that). I approached my apartment and lingering at the base of the stairwell was a young man in his late teens or early twenties. I had stopped at the store close to my house and was walking with groceries. I had my headphones on. (I used to be opposed to people wearing headphones, thinking that it cuts out the opportunity to talk to members of the community, but sometimes they’re needed because they also cut out the sounds of people yelling inappropriate things at you. It was that kind of day.) This young man motioned for me to enter the stairwell before him. I declined. Whatever it was, intuition I suppose, I did not want this guy behind me on the stairs. He motioned again for me to go ahead; I declined and said in Azeri, “I don’t want to.” He laughed and said to his friend who is lounging in this gazebo structure nearby, “She doesn’t want to.” He then asks me, what I think is, “Are you a prostitute?” I say, “I don’t understand.” (He is currently blocking the stairwell as I didn’t want him behind me and he wouldn’t go first.) He then says it again. I shake my head and say “I don’t understand.” I also have an expression on my face which I hope is conveying “You’re an idiot, move.” He says it again and then makes a hand gesture which unmistakably states what he’s asking. I finally brush past him and make it upstairs to my apartment. I am a little nervous and fumble with my keys as I try to get them into the lock. As I’m doing so, I keep an eye on the stairwell. It is now dark and my stairwell has no other light aside from the flashlight I use on my PC issued cell phone. I get in my apartment and lock the door; both the deadbolt and a lock which uses a key. I close all the curtains before turning on the lights. I turn on the lights and take a deep breath. The guy had given me the creeps. I start to thinking about dinner. I put the kibosh on the wine and start making some tea. I go and sit on the chair in my living room for a second and text one of my sitemates about how some guy had just asked me if I was a prostitute. While she and I were in the midst of a text conversation, someone, a few “someones,” begin to knock on my door. There is a group of them; I hear loud talking and laughter. I don’t move. I don’t need to look through the peek-hole; I know who it is and why they’re there. They don’t go away. I ignore the knocking, expecting them to leave. The knocking continues for a solid two minutes. I have about 3 lights on in my apartment (kitchen, living room, hallway). They continue knocking. One says something to the other and immediately after the lights in my apartment go out. They start laughing. In the hallway outside my apartment is the fusebox to all the apartments, they flipped the switch and turned off the electricity to my apartment in hopes to coax me out into the hallway. I am now terrified. I am not going out there. It’s pitch black in my apartment; in the hallway. I call our Peace Corps Security Officer. I am trying to be calm and explain the problem, but really I’m hysterical and I start crying a little. He calmly starts asking me questions; I can’t understand why he’s so calm. I am still sitting in the dark. Are they still out there? I still hear voices, I can’t tell if they’re coming from outside or the hallway. The Security Officer tells me he can call the police, I now realize I don’t want to be talking to him, I want to be talking to my counter-part who I know will come over immediately (and bring a few friends) to have a “chat” with these guys. I then tell him I want to call my counter-part who I know will come over. I have to admit, I haven’t had to use the police here. I don’t know if they would have taken their time to appear or if would have come immediately, I needed immediately. I remember calling the police in America once and they took an hour and a half to show up. I was a sitting duck; a duck in the deepest dark. I ended up calling my counter-part, who immediately came over with friends. He didn’t completely understand me on the phone, I think he just thought my electricity had gone out (I was crying and wasn’t entirely articulate). Finally, he understood what had happened and was extremely angry and started asking questions, “Who were they? Have you seen them before? What did they look like?” I only saw the one guy when I entered the building. My initial reaction last night was, I’m moving out of this building. I’m getting out of this area. I don’t think I can change anyone’s opinion of me. Today, in the light of day, I’m wondering if that’s what I should be doing or not. Today the Peace Corps Security Officer is contacting the police and I’ll file a report. I’m hoping they’ll come over here and check things out, talk to my neighbors. I want these guys to know they can’t come to my door and they can't act that way towards me. The thing is, one of the guys, if not all, must live in my building. They would have to know which fuse switch was mine because they're not labeled according to apartments, you just have to know the number. They knew my number. I don’t want to move, but I don’t want to deal with incessant harassment either. I haven’t even been here a month yet. It’s only been a few weeks and I’ve had two separate incidences where I’ve had to call our Security Officer. I can’t decide if this is “make a stand” worthy, but I’ll be considering it all weekend. P.S. I really talk a lot about crying in this blog, I don’t really consider myself a “crier” although I’ll concede I’ve become more emotional as I’ve gotten older. Additionally, I think this was a warranted instance.

Yes. I'm going to ask you for money, a total of $1, 811.12 needs to be raised! Continue reading and learn why you should support this incredible event!

On April 6th, 21 volunteers came together to read the writings of over 480 essays written by Azerbaijani students throughout the country. Essays varied in depth and originality on topics which elicited laughter and sometimes tears (one in particular had yours truly crying).

Students who wrote essays were participating in the Writing Olympics, an English writing competition which encourages students to cultivate their creativity through essay writing. Prior to the writing event, Peace Corps volunteers held writing workshops and demonstrated useful ways to write creatively.Students who clinched the first place title will then be eligible to compete on the international level with students from 8 other countries: Albania, Armenia, Bulgaria, Cambodia, Georgia,Moldova, Mongolia and Ukraine.

Writing Olympics was created in 2003 by a Peace Corps Volunteer serving in Georgia. The volunteer sought to give students an opportunity for creative self-expression and to practice their English skills, an ability rarely cultivated in post-Soviet classrooms.According to Harvard Professor David Perkins, here are some reasons why creativity should be cultivated and are essential to the development of an individual:

1. A strong commitment to a personal aesthetic. Creators have a high tolerance for complexity, disorganization, and asymmetry. They enjoy the challenge of struggling through chaos and struggling toward a resolution and synthesis.2. The ability to excel in finding problems. By asking the right question and finding the right problem, creators can define and "see" the boundaries of their fields that can be extended or broken. Being able to find a solution isn't the first step; the first step is being able to ask the question that focuses the vision and the potential that vision creates.3. Mental mobility allows creative people to find new perspectives on and approaches to problems. Creative people have a strong tendency to think in opposites or contraries. They often think in metaphors and analogies and challenge assumptions as a matter of course.

4. A willingness to take risks and the ability to accept failure as part of the creative quest. These people also exhibit the ability to learn from their failures. By working at the edge of their competence, where the possibility of failure lurks, mental risk-takers are more likely to produce creative results.

5. Creative people not only scrutinize and judge their ideas or projects, they also seek criticism. Objectivity involves more than luck or talent; it means putting aside your ego, seeking advice from trusted colleagues, and testing your ideas.

6. The last trait is that of inner motivation. Creators are involved in an enterprise for its own sake, not for school grades or paychecks. Their catalysts are the enjoyment, satisfaction, and challenge of the work itself.

These young writers have taken one (in what I hope to be many!) steps to improve their creativity; a step that I, as a Peace Corps volunteer, want to continue enriching and encouraging.

They've written and now want to celebrate their accomplishment. We can't do it without your help! Currently, we're seeking to raise $1,811.12 (USD) to pay for student awards and an awards ceremony for the 1st-3rd place winners. Please take the time to make a contribution here.

Check out some of last year's winners at: www.writingolympics.org.