Peace Corps Journals

Eurovision Song Contest...Light Your Fire...and the Winner is...

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Azerbaijan Mary's Meanderings in Azerbaijan

2012-06-02 06:07:00

Eurovision Song Contest…Light Your Fire...and the winner is…..

Every year, the Eurovision Song Contest is broadcast by the European Broadcasting Union all over Europe. Each country submits an original song to be performed by an artist or artists from the respective country. A jury of specialists, like American Idol, rates the songs to be sent on to the Grand Finale, which then is voted on by viewers all over Europe, and as far away as Azerbaijan. Each year the huge television production is held in the country of the previous year’s winner. And so it was, with great pride after winning the 2011 Eurovision Song Contest, that Azerbaijan, known as the Land of Fire, hosted this year’s competition last weekend, with the theme and motto--Light Your Fire. An elaborate new hall—the crystal hall palace in Baku—was built just for this event. This Eurovision television spectacular was already a big event during the years that Bill and I lived in Germany in the 1960’s and 1970’s, and I remember well watching the shows every year to see which country would win—it brings pride and jubilation to the winning country, and after winning last year’s competition, throngs stormed the streets of Baku celebrating, as though they had just won the World Cup!

Because it must be shown during prime time in Europe, the semi-finals and the Grand Finale couldn’t start until midnight local time here in Azerbaijan. But watch we must! And so we had our own little PCV viewing party at the home of good friend of all Peace Corps Volunteers, Gulnaz.

Some chose to boycott the Song Contest in Azerbaijan, and others used the event to point out political issues that plague Azerbaijan’s reputation on the world stage. Armenia, with a decades-long dispute over contested territory which they now occupy and on-going war with Azerbaijan, did not send an entry nor attend. Other human rights organizations hoped to draw attention to the civil and human rights violations of a country known for imprisoning hundreds of journalists who oppose government policies and a country accused by others of corruption throughout many facets of society. On international rankings of corruption and human rights violations, Azerbaijan scores poorly relative to the rest of the world, and especially relative to the rest of Europe. Moreover, located in a strategically important part of the world, Azerbaijan reportedly thwarted numerous terrorists plots, which were designed to disrupt the Eurovision events.

But none of that seemed to dampen this year’s celebration which turned out to be quite a Baku party. The city polished up its attractive and historic core, and put on the glitz and glamour that would rival any pop-culture show anywhere in the world. And the winner—and host of next year’s competition…Sweden! But I must admit, my favorites, the ones that I was rooting for, were—the pleasant German entry, the local favorite—Azerbaijan, the singing babushkas from Russia (came in 2nd place), and the fancy feet of the group from Malta…ah, well…

Have a view:

http://www.eurovision.tv/esctv/past

Don't miss the singing Babuskas enticing everyone with "Party for Everybody":

www.youtube.com/watch?v=6ZkcV_l1wXg

Europe's grand show: www.youtube.com/user/eurovision

My First Heated Debate

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Azerbaijan Bringing Peace to Azerbaijan

2012-06-01 08:42:25

It all started about a month ago when I looked up at the sky at around 6pm and saw a half moon in the sky. I turned to my host sister and said, “Look at the moon, how romantic!” My sister looked up and said, “That’s not the moon it’s the sun”. Excuse me!? I [...]

The Real Story Behind Little Red Riding Hood

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Azerbaijan Annie Pease

2012-06-01 07:18:00

The last day of the school year is referred to as son zeng, the last bell. Each graduating class (the best comparison would be each graduating homeroom) gets one hour in front of the school assembly to thank their teachers, perform skits, sing songs etc... This year, my counterpart suggested some of our students put on a play in English in honor of the graduating class. I jumped at the idea. My counterpart told me that she thinks American teachers are creative, so I should write the skit. The stipulations were it must be ten minutes and funny. It took a mere 30 seconds of thinking for me to realize that I wasn't really up to the task of writing an original, funny 6th grade Azeri skit in English. Thus, after several internet searches for basic scripts for ESL learners, I narrowed it down to Three Little Pigs, Jack and the Beanstalk, the Guest of Honor (a Turkish folktale), and Little Red Riding Hood. I consulted my counterpart and quickly eliminated the 3 Little Pigs. She thought it was hilarious to consider the students acting as pigs. But hilarious as in ridiculous, not funny hilarious. In addition to the fact that Muslims don't eat pork, the Azeri word for pig (donuz) is an insult, and the idea of the students running around dressed up like pigs wasn't quite kosher. Pun intended. This also reaffirmed my decision that not writing a "my idea of funny skit" was a good decision.

We settled on Little Red Riding Hood because there is a Russian tale that everyone here knows, Qirmizi Papaq (red cap), and it follows the same idea. My counterpart insisted we would save time because we wouldn't need to translate it. Fine by me. I printed off six scripts, assigned roles, and held 3 play practices at my house. We hit our first road bump when the student I assigned to be the narrator beat my counterpart to asking the orchestrator of the son zeng events about 6th grade students performing qirmizi papaq. Usually skits are reserved for the 11th graders (p.s. high school finishes after 11th grade in Az). Having no background information about the qirmizi papaq idea from my counterpart, the orchestrator immediately disregarded the student's inquiry. I told my students to start learning their lines anyways, my counterpart would follow up and we'd be back in the game. For whatever reasons though, even after my counterpart explained what we were planning, the orchestrator stuck to her guns and said olmaz (not allowed)! My counterpart tsked at her, muttering something about the school's bureaucracy. We were a bit disappointed, but decided we would do it next year, at a different school holiday. However, to my surprise, the very next day, I was sitting in the teacher's room when the assistant director approached me. She said a long string of Azeri words, the last of which were qirmizi papaq keçəcək! Hazirla! Red cap will pass. Prepare! I was surprised because my counterpart wasn't at school that day, and I hadn't raised the issue of the play again. Someone, however, was advocating for qirmizi papaq. That was all the inspiration I needed.

We had one week to prepare. One remnant of the Soviet Union's legacy in Azerbaijan's education system is that the students are damn good at rote memorization. For the first time, this worked to my advantage. The first practice was great. Enthusiasm was high. We got down the sequence of who speaks after who as well as spatial orientation. Mother's house-->forest-->grandmother's house. By the second practice, the students had their lines down. At one point, the woodsman got a little swing happy with his pretend axe. I had to point out to that the term "knock out the wolf" means one fell swoop of the axe to the wolf's head. It does NOT mean a complete massacre of the wolf OR a recreation of a deleted scene from the exorcist. To my great pleasure, the students took initiative to invent their own costumes. They supplied everything from little red's basket, to the wolf's mask and tail, to the woodman's axe. I was thoroughly impressed. In an effort to express my gratitude to them for being awesome, I decided to surprise them the day before the big show with ice cream after our final practice. I went to the market and picked up 8 ice cream bars before the dress rehearsal. Unfortunately, only the narrator and little red showed up. This made me nervous for a lot of reasons, but it wasn't all bad because those are the two parts with the most lines. [Note to self: don't feel bad about selecting your diligent students for lead roles]. We went through their lines together, and I helped them a bit with intonation. I realized that even when they understand the meaning of the sentence, intonation can still be difficult. It's a hard thing to teach. After that, we mostly ended up talking about our summer plans and eating icecream. Also, I'm not sure if I can count two people showing up for dress rehearsal as a road bump if I ended up with a net surplus of 6 ice cream bars.

Son zeng itself, the actual day of the performance, was a great example of the ups and down of Peace Corps work. I arrived at school with grandmother's scarf and name tags in tow at 10 o'clock. I had not been informed of our play's time slot, I just knew it was sometime between 10 and 1. Two of the students came up to me saying no one wanted to perform anymore. I asked if it was because the orchestrator said we didn't have time. They said no, it was because the crowd made them nervous. There were so many people, they thought no one would listen to them. I tsked (a habit I've acquired from xanims to express disapproval) and told them that if they perform just like they did at practice, the play will be a success no matter what. The crowd is not important. Then I whipped out their laminated-with-tape name tags, raising moral at least 5 points, and herded them into an empty classroom for one final practice. At the same time, the director's assistant was calling me to watch the 11th formers performances from a seat at the front of the assembly with the director and administrators. Sometimes, it's hard to get by without ever having an idea of the plan for these things. I politely excused myself for our rehearsal, pinned the tail on the wolf, tightened his mask, adjusted little red's riding hood and put grandma's glasses on right side up. We got one full practice in before being ushered back outside to watch. Sitting next to the director and his administrators for each class's performances, I had a front row seat to the battle for time keeping. If one class even seemed like it might be going longer than the time it was allotted, students from the other 11th grade classes would march right through their skit to the director's seat to ask how much time they had. For each class, it was a race to get through handing every student his/her diploma individually. At the beginning of the day, I had been told that we would perform at the very end. My students were excited because that means it would be the very last thing before the actual, final bell rang. Throughout the course of the three hours, qirmizi papaq was on and off at least 3 times. We had time for it. We wouldn't have time for it. We had time. We wouldn't have time. I could have taken this as a sign of the event's overall time and moral support for qirmizi papaq. I tried not to though. I remained patient, encouraged by my students waiting excitedly and nervously in their costumes when I looked back over my shoulder.

When we finally got our introduction at the end, my students marched out like the little champs they are and began smoothly. They had the additional factor of handing off microphones to each other to deal with as well. Despite their nerves, they delivered their lines in English with minimal errors, and I was really the only one who could detect those blips anyways. However, I think that not understanding what the students were saying increased the restlessness of the already restless crowd. Just over halfway into the play, the director turned on a previously latent microphone, thanked us for our performance and gave his closing remarks. That type of move from a director is not as abnormal in Azerbaijan as it would be in America. Still, I couldn't help feeling like some of those fears the students had about performing in front of a big audience came to fruition. I tried to encourage them the best I could, telling them that they did a great job with the parts that they got through, but I could tell they were disappointed. It was hard for me to be positive too, as at that time, I was feeling bitter towards being cut short. Mostly, I was thinking about the things I could have done differently to be a better facilitator. I just hated the idea that they could be left with the crash-and-burn feeling when they really didn't crash and burn at all. They did everything they were asked to do.

Reflecting now though on the whole experience of our first English play, I realize that it was MUCH more than the 6 minutes spectators witnessed at school today. It might take a little while, but I hope that one day when the students think about qirmizi papaq, they remember how special they felt when they were assigned a role. How excited they were when I told them the play was back on after being told we couldn't do it. How un-intimidating memorizing lines in English became when they highlighted just their part. How funny the wolf looked when he was dressed up as grandma. How they made each other laugh. How accomplished they felt when they finally nailed a difficult line. And how often they practiced their "The End" bow relative to the rest of the play. I also hope they know that I was very proud of them for trying something new with a tenacity I don't often witness students exhibiting for school-related things.

I took this picture and video during practice the day of our performance. I had to edit it down to just one part so I could post it. Notice little red's stellar intonation?

Yuzden, sen bir sen. (You're one in a hundred)

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Azerbaijan Life on the Edge

2012-05-31 16:46:00

I remember when I was little, the night before we went on vacation or took a big trip was always full of excitement and anxiety. I remember my parents would be up late into the night, packing, and getting things ready. I'd be trying to sleep in my bed, but I was reminded of what was going on because the light in the hallway always managed to trickle into my room. Then we'd be up before the sun, I'd roll into the car with a blanket, and fall asleep just as the sun was coming up. Excited because I was heading to a new place. Anxious for all the same reasons.

For some reason, I feel like that tonight. It seemed to get dark early, because it's storming like it has been each night. The single light in my living room is on, trickling into the other rooms, which look empty now because I've started to pack. My hiking backpack is packed, pulling at the seams and sitting in a corner...ready to go. I think, finally, I am getting ready to go. But it's really difficult.

I'm not leaving for another two weeks, but this is probably the last quiet night I get in this apartment before things get really crazy. I'm heading down to another region to see an old friend tomorrow, and then all the volunteers come this weekend because camp will start on Monday. The day after camp ends, I hope on a bus to Baku. I've been here for two and a half years. I'm leaving in under two weeks.

Yesterday was the last day of school, and today was the graduation ceremony for the students. I went to watch a friend graduate, and marvel at how much she has changed in the time I've been here. I saw kids who I had taught when I first arrived, who appeared to have almost doubled in size. A kid in one of my first classes I had affectionately dubbed 'Augustus Gloop,' who now appears to be taller than I am.

And so, with two weeks left, the weekly post.

I'm going to miss: The people. Most of all.

I probably should have saved this for the last post for impact and all, but it seemed most fitting this week. I love that when I walk down the street, on any given day, I run into at least two or three people I know. They know me by name, we wave, chat, and go on our way. I always longed to have that coffee shop where I go in and order 'the regular,' but this is pretty good.

I have also been shown the most incredible kindness from individuals in this community. People who have genuinely taken in this strange girl from a strange land, and allowed her to be part of the family. I can go to families now and play with the kids, help mom in the kitchen, and argue with dad, just like I belong. Because they allowed me to belong, and they let me in. It takes a lot of trust to let someone into your life...and people here did just that, knowing all the while I would be leaving. Which is even harder.

I have been so fortunate here to collect the kind of relationships I have. That's one thing I've learned about myself - is I like to collect relationships, not necessarily experiences. I find that I'd rather spend time hanging out in the kitchen with someone, than go on a hike by myself. I'd rather sit at home with someone, than go to India by myself. I was lucky that I was here long enough to find people to share this experience with. Because when I came, I definitely came alone. I can't imagine how difficult this would have been without them. And I assume I probably would have left early.

I've learned: To really accept myself.

It's true. You can't love someone until you truly love yourself. I mean, I don't think I'm perfect, there are things I would like to improve upon. So I certainly don't expect anyone to think that I'm perfect. But I've learned to accept things about myself that I never did before. And appreciate things that some people like to see as a weakness. I'm sensitive. I'm compassionate. I've learned to say no, but not at the risk of compromising my dignity. My integrity is the most important, and the only way to demonstrate that is to treat other people with respect. Even if you don't necessarily want to. I've finally come to terms with my body, and my appearance. And though there are certainly things there I'd like to change...I know that I can only change so much. Even my birthmark - I used to think I would get it removed as soon as I could. Now, I can't imagine living without it. I love when people in Azerbaijan comment on it - because they are always so sweet. (I've had awful conversations with arrogant, assuming Americans about it...but Azeris are just inquisitive). The Azeris will always say something like, "it is beautiful, it suits you." or "we have a belief, this means you will have good luck" or "you must be very clever." It might be crazy, but it's kind. They see something that makes me unique and see it as a good thing...not as a blemish or disfigurement.

I know some volunteers have had much different experiences with these sorts of things. But generally, I have found that people here love me and accept me for exactly who I am, and would never want me to be anything else. My strengths, my faults, they take it all. It's not often that you find that.

Venting - Housing

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Azerbaijan These Boots are made for Hiking

2012-05-31 12:09:00

Earthquake damage in Faldar

Earthquake damage

Earthquake damage in Faldar

I try not to be negative, most people do not want to hear about problems but sometimes you just have to vent. I wanted to blog about the great weekend in Gax (next blog) but I need to get this out, so please bare with me and I will try not to vent again. As most of you know I have not had good luck with my housing to say the least. I am living in temporary housing until June 1st (please note the date of this blog). I am not living in the basic standards that PC requires (example; no running water, ground level windows facing a busy street with no safety bars, the gas heater is extremely dangerous if the wind picks up it has a back draft that can easily set the lace curtains on fire), I could go on but I think you have a good idea of my living conditions (and I am not even counting all of the critters that come in!!). On the plus side the grand parents and daughter-in-law are very kind. I knew that this would only be for 3 months, so I sucked it up again and dealt with it. About a month ago, I sent a message to the housing coorindinator reminding him of my move, he called me and assure me that everything was okay. Last week when he finally came out to check the condition of our housing because of the earthquakes that happened 3 weeks ago (side note, one PCV's was ordered to move out of her house by the local government because it was just too dangerous to live there and another PCV house was unlivable and she was sleeping in a carport on a divan with her host family at relatives house..when I saw that, I insisted that she lived with me because that was just unacceptable in my opinion until they finally moved her to a different side up north)...sorry back to the story. We went over again to the house where I was suppose to move into to finalize everything and I was told by the housing coorindinator to just go and check with her the next week. So on Monday, I went over and brought my friend who speaks the language fluently and I was told by the landlady that the students would be back on June the 4th until the 20th for finals, and then in July her family is coming for 10 days for a wedding. Would I have a problem with that?? Uhhh yes I believe so!!! So back to Peace Corps finding me suitable housing once again. And to add insult to injury, I walked by the Russian school in Zaqatala where I will be teaching in September and it is being bull doze!! I was told they were going to remodel the school (not tear it down) but I think because of the earthquakes, they just leveled it!! You know I just can't get a break here. I think this country is beating me. Is it time to throw in the towel????? Thanks for listening.

Life Challenge: Defeat is not the worst of failures, not to have tried is the true failure... George Edward Woodberry

Tripping South Pics

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Azerbaijan Bat Fishing in Montana

2012-05-31 08:56:00

What's the best way to prepare for a vacation? By posting photos of the previous vacation-duh! Below are the edited Tripping South photos, from Glendene and my trip down to southern Azerbaijan and Baku. Don't get too excited-I didn't really have my camera with me much. Really these are just pics from a night out in Baku, but I think they're pretty good. Click HERE to see more.

Blondes do have more fun!

Glendene at an art exhibit for a contemporary Azeri carpet weaver.

A view of Crystal Hall, and the second largest flagpole in the world, from the Boulevard expansion.

Opening Day Results!

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Azerbaijan Azerbaijan Interregional Softball League

2012-05-30 18:07:41

After the first weekend of games, it’s very clear that this year’s championship is going to come down to the wire. The parity in the league this year is unprecedented and it should be an exciting season to follow. Some teams opted to practice a little longer and open their season a few weeks later, [...]

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Azerbaijan Dream it, Plan it, and Do it!

2012-05-30 17:17:00

Things I Love to Do

My neighborhood has lot of flowers and trees. In front of my apartment, there are two fruit trees: apple and the purple leaf plum. I recognized the apple tree since spring but only discovered the purple leaf plum tree yesterday. It was its deep red fruit caught my attention. I spot a few lying on my running path. Immediately, I thought they were cherries. But when I bit into the fruit, it was crunchy like a plum with a sweet and sour taste. I went to “google” and found out its name. I was excited, went back to the tree and kept taking pictures of its fruits Leaning new things about nature always brings me lots of joy.

If I have to choose my career again, I would love to be a Biologist or Archeologist. I am just a nature lover; love everything in the woods, flowers, trees, wildlife, streams, waterfalls, mountains, rocks and even a dead tree. Remember their names and shapes seem effortless to me. Once I study a plant, I never forget its name and its look. I think I will be happy just gardening every day, or scouting the wood every weekend. I will be equally happy if I am a National Park Ranger, visiting a mountain every day.

To be an Archeologist, one must have a strong desire for adventures, which I know I have. Travelling to remote places, climbing into tombs, caves, mountains, cliffs, finding out the relationship between people and landscapes, discovering the mysterious past behind each excavation, etc… all that mesmerize me. Men like Indiana Jones, to me, are the most interesting and sexiest men on earth! J I will have endless conversation with those men over dinner with a glass of wine and candle light.

Anyway, I have lots of plans when I retire. To be a volunteer for a National Park, an archeology society or Sierra Club, to hike the entire Appalachian Trail, Continental Divide or the Pacific Crest, and to disappear into the woods for months, to be a hermit…..

Wouldn’t that be nice?

Wedding Azerbaijan Style AKA "Toy"

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Azerbaijan These Boots are made for Hiking

2012-05-29 19:29:00

I have made friends with a couple who owns the largest and (in my opinion) the nicest wedding palace in Zaqatala. Wedding's (or Toy- Azerbaijani go figure!!) here is a VERY big deal and they are very expensive. The Ag Saray (White Palace) is the popular place to get married. I was invited to one of the weddings and I asked if I could take pictures and write about it on my blog. The couples are sometimes matched by families or they see each other from a far and they go out (probably with a chaperon) for a month, then they are engaged for one to two months and then they get married within 3-6 months. This seems really quick but it's the culture. The wedding is usually two weddings, one for the bride and her family relatives and friends (this is generally the day before). The hall holds about 350-450 people. The one I went to took place the second night or the grooms night with his side of the family or 430 people. Esmira (aka wedding planner) loves to decorate the hall and outside of the building to match what the bride is wearing. She did a beautiful job and makes sure every detail is attended to. The day before the bride wore red so Esmira did everything in red and white. Tonight is blue and white (the bride wore white today). Every wedding party is basically the same. Tradition and culture here is all about the food. The more food and drinks you have the richer the family is. They do not give presents, they give money as the cost of all the food is very expensive and more so when it is out of season. You can have the wedding palace prepare the food or the family prepares it at home and bring it to the palace to be serve. The food prepared by the wedding palace is delicious and is prepared as we Americans would do, all cooks and helpers wear gloves and hair nets. Esmira is very health conscious, making sure everything is clean and anti bacterial. They run around continuously from start (around 6 PM) to finish (Midnight) making sure everything is running smoothly and everyone is happy. Esmira and Aruz have around 40-50 part time employees that handle all aspects of the wedding and the results are outstanding, amazing and everyone is happy!!! See the results below!!! Thank you for sharing this with me Esmira and Aruz.

Aruz & Esmira Wedding Planner Extraordinary

Wedding Couple

Special Effects

Beautiful Couple and Decorations

Beautiful Table Setting

Great Food & Beautiful colors

Pretty Combination

Just some of the pictures we took at the wedding. We had a great time and it was very interesting to watch what goes behind the scenes of a wedding.

Life Challenge: All weddings, except those with shotguns in evidence are wonderful... Liz Smith

Lahic - Lahij - Azerbaijan

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Azerbaijan A Peace Journey

2012-05-29 11:29:00

A few friends and I made a trip to one of the must see sites of Azerbaijan, Lahic. It is an ancient village, up in the mountains of Ismayilli, famous for its copper artisans and cobble stone streets. We stayed with our friend, Nate, in the city of Ismayilli, and made a day trip up to the village. It was an interesting hour and a half trip up in the drizzling rain of steep mountains, narrow, crumbling roads, and Indiana Jones rope bridges (Don't worry, we chose not to cross it). It was completely worth it. This was the best tourist site I have seen so far. We stayed about four hours looking at the beautiful streets, shops, and people. Here is a Lahicite tapping away on his copper. He tried to get his little boy to get out of the way for a better picture, but really, the child is what makes it so cute.

A little break for lunch. Tasty Kabob, tomatoes, and cucumbers with Nate Storey, Allison Breed, and Alec Lisko.

Another nice copper shop. I kept having the "If only I had Lots and Lots of money" thoughts. These would be truly great (and heavy) keepsakes. While walking around here, Nate and I stopped, and spoke for a few minutes for a documentary a woman was making about tourist areas in Azerbaijan. Beads of sweat were gearing up when I asked her if we had to speak in Azerbaijani. Thankfully for all of us, she translated everything.

Allison and I outside of the Mosque

The CUTEST old lady ever. She wouldn't let Allison take the picture without her knitting needles in hand. We stopped by her shop about three times, and I finally bought beautiful blue and red hand knitted ankle socks in traditional style.

Every time we passed by the little old lady's shop, a man kept saying 50 cents for a picture. I understood after awhile he was telling us, we could pay fifty cents to try these beauties on (and then take our own pictues in them - no camera provided). Who wouldn't?

We stopped by the school to check out the murals on the walls. Instead, we were first directed to this. A typical Azerbaijani school decoration. A large soldier to remind everyone of the atrocities inflicted upon them during the Qarabagh war, and the continuing struggle for land and freedom. At this point in our tour, though, the director was alerted to our presence, came over, brought us into his office, and gave us tea and sweets. He was extremely hospitable and unconditionally grateful for the Peace Corps Volunteer they had two years before. It is encounters like those that are humbling about our service here.

Walking around the village

I love these cars

A major MAJOR thanks to my friend and photographer, Allison Breed. The first half and wonderful quality pictures I put up here were her creations.

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Azerbaijan Azeri Dreams

2012-05-29 09:53:00

First train ride, friday night, to pick up Lynnsey in Baku. I am frequently blowing my nose because I am ill. Every time I do, the mother and daughter across the bunks giggle insanely. Whether they are simply insensitive to my pathetic condition, or I am being too (culturally) insensitive by blowing my nose in public, I don't know. But I sure as hell am not getting up every minute and teetering my way to the end of the wagon in order to dejam my breathing facilities.

Eating breakfast at the cafe at the train station. I have until midnight-30 to pick up Lynnsey from the airport, all day to kill. Suddenly my phone rings. I see that it's Jeyhun, Peace Corps Safety and Security Coordinator. A man famed among volunteers for being able to tell off any Azeri baddy, through the phone. I pick up. "Kaylee, where are you now?" "Baku," (exactly where I should be). "Kaylee, I just recieved a call from your friend Lynnsey Norris. She's been at the airport waiting for you for 13 hours!"

I knew that once we met up with Rashad everything would be ok. And it was. We got on the right bus, walked down the right streets. The whole night was just right: a homecooked meal, great conversation, music sharing, tea, and dinosaurs.

Standing on the bus to Qobustan, I see that a freakishly tall young man has taken special interest in me and Lynnsey. He seems helpful enough, telling us he's getting off at Qobustan too, and can show us where the taxis are. He's neatly trimmed and nicely dressed in a starched white shirt and matching fedora. He's attractive and he knows it. This boy, I can tell, is a natural born opportunist. He has all the talent to spot an opportunity, take advantage of it, and, with luck, ride it out til the end. He hops in the taxi with us and buys us an orange Fanta. He rides along to the museum with us. He tags along with us through our English tour of the petroglyph mountain. He politely took his leave, though, after I made it clear to him that today wasn't his lucky day; this opportunity is denying you. But thanks for trying.

Second train ride to Tbilisi. Our compartment mates are a friendly Georgian pair of Judo sportsmen. They of course have brought an entire roasted chicken, loaf of bread, and package of fatty smoked ham slices (oh lordy so delectable) and insisted on sharing with us. The man, 30-something and kind like a father, but mischevious and playful like a brother, shared a generous portion of cha cha, Georgia's underground home-brewed liqour, out of his flask with us. The girl was the image of vivacity, and wrote in her journal with those curly Georgian letters; I like to think it was about the two american girls on the train.

Tbilisi, ah! Land of grape vineyards, Christians, cha cha, beautiful people, art gallerys, Churches, mountains and valleys, the Stalin museum! I laugh at myself for wondering how similar it would be to Azerbaijan. Pretty similar, I had thought. In reality, nothing similar. The only evidence of them being neighbors are the Azeris that we ran into: in the sulfur bath house (scrub downs and massages left us pretty), and a random taxi driver (kind old man who helped us find our way home).

We found our way, home, after some expensive setbacks. But we made it in time for Lynnsey to meet my host family, but not time for anything else! Back to the train, back to Baku!

Fish Bowl Effect

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Azerbaijan Peace Corps in Azerbaijan

2012-05-29 09:21:00

One thing has been a huge factor in my service is what we volunteers like to call the "fish bowl" effect. There is one thing being stared at, but another being stared at everyday for 27 months. Everything I do is observed as strange and discussed amongst my community. Every time I walk out my door, I am in constant lookout for who is around. I am always concerned about what I am wearing..are my shoes shined, do I have a small piece of mud on my pants, are my knee-length shorts too short? Every teeny, tiny little thing about me is seen and then commented on.

This is one thing I will not miss.

The first few months this wasn't a huge challenge for I was new to the country and getting attention is nice (you have to admit). As my service has continued, and now I understand what people are saying, this has become a difficult task to "brush off."

Before departing for school I take one last look in the mirror. I scan everything and make a mental note and think I know exactly what my fellow teachers will comment on. I arrive at school and instantly am commented on my shoes, hair, make-up (lack of, since I don't wear it), jewelry, etc. Usually my thoughts are correct on what they decide to comment on. I say "comment" loosely. This can be negative or positive. It isn't a way to insult me, but it is how the women talk to each other on a normal daily basis. One day I am told I look fat and another day I will be told I am thin. Then usually a teacher will bring me food the next day because she fears I look too thin.

Some days I am able to handle these types of comments, but when I am having a difficult day and this is said to me, I am instantly in a negative mood. The idea of looking a certain way and fitting into the local norm is very difficult here in my conservative village. It is also difficult to have this look all the time, day to day. There is so much pressure to look a certain way and act a certain way that I am not sure how people handle it. The social norms here are to conform and is a difficult custom to break after the Soviet conformity rules that had been in place for so many years. I see, live and breath these old ways of conformity every day and I see how it was a way of control.

I am not trying to push my ideals onto anyone, and anyone who knows me I believe people should think for themselves and have their own ideas before giving into the social norm.

Last summer I went to Georgia and came across a large park with local artists displaying their work. Instantly my heart was filled with joy and my eyes lit up. I hadn't realized how much I missed the art of expression. There were colors, imagination, non-conformists all around me. I hadn't realized how much I missed this kind of art form until it was smack in front of me.

This is something I had missed that past year living here. Art isn't displayed in homes nor on the refrigerator. The idea to be yourself is to conform to a role you must play.

I believe all of my fellow PCV's have had to deal with this conformity sometime during their service. When I am stared at on the street I say "salam" or think to myself "I am so interesting for them to stare at me." This helps me get through the day under constant watch.

I feel upon coming to the country I became a clean slate all over again, and after these 20 months of service I have rebuilt myself based on who I was before. The way of looking at the world and myself is very different then two years ago. It is definite, my eyes are open to more things. I look forward to living my life again in the states to see this change of thought play out.

Living in the fish bowl has been a definite life changer, but I appreciate what it has taught me. I have a new found appreciation for the "outsiders" in America. I don't understand why being different can be so negative? No one is the same in this world, so why are we all trying to conform to a single ideal? And, who's to say which one single ideal is the best to conform to?

I open my eyes to all the "different" in the world: art, religion, appearance, cultures, etc. Let us all embrace everyone's "different" and learn from it.

"Understanding means throwing away your knowledge"
-Thich Nhat Hanh, Being Peace

Better Know a Holiday: 28 May

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Azerbaijan AZ/DC

2012-05-29 09:13:00

If you read about Azerbaijan enough, you'll come across the fact that, on May 28, 1918, it became the first successfully established secular Islamic democratic republic in the world. You may also hear that during this time (1919) Azerbaijan became the first Islamic nation to grant voting rights to women, predating national women's suffrage in the U.S. by about one year. Obviously, the birth of the republic was not celebrated during Soviet times, but it was revived as a national holiday upon independence in 1991.

Not to diminish these historical achievements, but what is often left unmentioned in the same breath uttering this bit of trivium is that this republic lasted only about two years, from 28 May 1918 (collapse of the Russian empire) to 1920 (Bolshevik / Soviet / communist conquest) and that no one involved in the practical operation of the country today actually remembers how a fully-functional democratic republic works.

In the spirit of short-lived things in history involving the 28th of May:

1503 - Margaret Tudor wed James IV of Scotland and the Treaty of Everlasting Peace between England and Scotland was signed. The peace lasted 10 years.
1533 - Marriage of Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn was declared valid by the Archbishop of Canterbury. The marriage lasted 3 years.
1588 - The Spanish Armada set sail for the English Channel from Lisbon. Less than three months later, it was defeated by the English at the decisive battle of Gravelines.
1940 - The 18-day Battle of Belgium ended with Belgium's surrender to Germany.

Hip-Hop From The Land Of Fire: Def Il ft. A-Team Kill A Motherf*cker

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Azerbaijan Bat Fishing in Montana

2012-05-29 07:46:00

Certainly one of the more obscene track titles in Hip-Hop From The Land Of Fire; I was assuming that the track would mainly be bluff and fluff hiding behind a shock-tastic title, but its actually quite solid. New rapper (to me at least) Def Il begins in quadruple time over a plunking piano. Its a relief to hear them trade off stanzas in the intro-you worry they'll do damage to their mouth rapping so fast. This is a great intro track to Def Il and I'm excited to see more from him in the future.

Props to RapRock.Az for the post

Previous on Hip-Hop From The Land Of Fire: Ado

Kiçik Toy

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Azerbaijan Mary's Meanderings in Azerbaijan

2012-05-28 18:23:00

The Kichick Toy (the small wedding)

Last week I went to what will surely be my one-and-only kichick toy, or little wedding. Given the demographics of the people I know, my friends and associates, it’s not too likely I will be invited to another, let alone even know anyone else who will be celebrating a kickick toy. You see, a ‘little wedding’ as it is known here is not at all about a couple marrying. Instead, it is the celebration of a young boy’s coming of age…his ritual circumcision. Sometime before the onset of adolescence, Azeri boys are honored with a party, celebration, and gifts, known as the kichick toy, the small wedding, in preparation for his circumcision. It can involve a party in the home with family and friends, or a very large celebration in one of the special restaurants, known as ‘celebration or wedding palaces,’ designed to elaborately serve huge receptions for such occasions. In honor of my host family’s son, Ibrahim, now eight years-old, a large reception, with at least two-hundred fifty family, friends, and colleagues and associates of the parents in attendance, was held for him last Sunday at a beautiful ‘wedding palace’ restaurant.

Playing in the courtyard, while adults get ready

Even the neighborhood geese sense something is up

Arriving at the family home for the big event

Big sister poses

Ibrahim gets last minute attention to his attire

First of all, the family members gathered at the family home, and being considered one of the family, I arrived several hours before the actual celebration was to begin at the wedding palace. There I met some of the relatives I already knew and met about fifty more! Some, like the grandfather and great-uncles of Ibrahim, came from Moscow and Russia to be in attendance. (With huge unemployment among males in the regions outside of Baku, many male family members work in Russia to support their families back home in Azerbaijan.) The house and garden was bustling with relatives scurrying about to get ready for the celebration…clothes were being pressed, last minute adjustments to hair-dos and make-up, and finally all the relatives were ready for the procession to the wedding palace. But first some musicians arrived and in the patio area of the house, they struck up some familiar Azerbaijani music on traditional instruments, with sounds that are distinctively Middle Eastern. Soon dozens of family members, including little Ibrahim, were dancing the traditional Azeri dances in the patio. Then it was time to leave for the wedding palace.

Musicians in the courtyard of the family home provide a little pre-function festivities for the family and relatives

Warm-up dancing in the courtyard to typical Azeri music

Ibrahim and his attendant lead the Azeri dancing

Everyone piled into various cars for the short ride to the wedding palace. Ibrahim, of course, was in the lead car, together with his attendants—two friends and his nine year-old sister. The car was decorated like a wedding car, with red and white tulle streamers and bows on it. It was driven down the middle of the road, horn blaring, followed by my car and all the other cars with family and relatives, each also honking horns. When we arrived at the wedding palace, we all went inside to find seats at tables still available, since all the other two hundred or so guests were sitting at tables waiting. Once everyone was seated, just like at a marriage wedding, Ibrahim and his attendants made a grand entrance up through the center of the room to the specially decorated table on a small stage in front of the large reception hall, reserved especially for the one(s) being honored. Opposite was the stage for the musicians, who were already playing (very loudly!) the typical Azerbaijani music.

The wedding car

Ibrahim wishes he could drive it himself

The wedding palace

Ibrahim and his attendants sit at special table on stage at front of the hall

The musicians perform typical Azeri music, and inordinately loudly, so that at least one little girl and old woman at my table both had to stuff napkins in their ears to soften the volume of the music

Proud family

Soon the many waiters came out carrying the first courses of the elaborate feast. As with any wedding palace celebration, the meal always consists of “national dishes,” served in specific order. To begin with, the national salads—Capital Salad and Mimosa Salad, which are variations of potato and cooked vegetable salad in mayonnaise dressing, similar to Russian Salad--along with condiments of pickles, olives, and pickled cabbage are on the table, as well as fresh tomatoes and cucumbers and plates of ‘greens’—green onions and herbs. Soon other national dishes are brought out—roasted chicken or fish with fresh herbs of dill, mint, parsley and cilantro, followed by beef or mutton stew, and then of course the grilled mutton or beef kebabs. But the main dish—the plov, or special rice pilaf with dried fruits—is saved for last, and elaborately and ceremoniously served…waiters in traditional costume carrying torches escort the ‘plov dancer,’ a male waiter carrying a platter of the plov in one hand while dancing to Azeri music, as he enters the hall. Between the various courses served, different groups of people—mother’s relatives, father’s relatives, relatives from Russia, groups of colleagues and associates-- come to the front of the hall, say words of congratulations over the microphone, and dance in groups to the Azeri music.

Ceremonial entrance of the national dish...the plov

the plov dancer...

carrying the platter of plov, set a-flame

This being a ‘wedding’ for a young boy, a special surprise was at hand when two clowns showed up to help encourage all the youngsters in attendance to dance, especially after the balloons fell from the ceiling, the bubble machine was turned on, and the confetti spewed over the dance floor.

Dancing with the clowns

Ibrahim on top of uncle's shoulders

Meeting with guests who came all the way from Russia (and America!)

Enjoying the dancing and the Azeri music

Throughout the entire festivities, Ibrahim’s mother and father roamed the hall as host and hostess—the father strolled up and down the rows of tables for male guests, and the mother the rows of tables for female guests. As is typical, females sit at tables on one side of the hall (with bottles of juice and water) and males on the other side (with bottles of wine and vodka).

At the very end the fancy ‘wedding’ cake is cut, and after about four or more hours of celebrating, the family goes home. Many others leave earlier. And the actually *event* being celebrated—the circumcision of the young boy—well, that is reserved for later in the week, in the privacy of the family home and attended to by a specially trained person!

Azeri dancing with family members in the courtyard of the family home

Personal freedom! Independence! Or, do we really care?

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Azerbaijan Life on the Edge

2012-05-24 17:02:00

Things I'm going to Miss: The way Azeris care about family.

The way Azerbaijanis think about family is completely different from the way we do. First of all, in Azerbaijan, you will live in your parents home until you get married (except for a brief stint in University, if you are smart enough to go). And, if you are a woman, you will likely move in with your husband and his family. Or, your parents can move in with you if they become ill or need assistance. You can always go home if you are ill, and need someone to look after you. Children are close will all of their cousins, aunts, uncles, and grandparents. Everyone still lives in the same village, or even if they move to Baku, they visit often and call even more.

As an only child, and a daughter at that, I am constantly asked, "Why did your parents let you come here?" It is UNHEARD of for an only girl child to leave the family. She will stay at home until she marries. Even males struggle to get permission to leave, and often the bargain is that they marry first and take their wife with them.

At first, you can look at this and think that people here are denied their freedoms, and don't have the right to choose their own future. In some cases, this is true. I've met many women who want to travel, who want to go abroad, but cannot, because they have a family. But, on the other hand, they are so much closer to their families than we tend to be, and hold on to those relationships for a lifetime. You don't just get together on holidays...you get together as much as you can.

I have a great relationship with my parents, and I think that I am probably closer with my parents than most of my peers. Even so, I still would feel uncomfortable moving back in with them for any extended period of time. It's cultural. We've been groomed to be independent. If we aren't independent we're incompetent. It's not acceptable for us to rely on our parents past the age of 18, and if we do, we're labeled 'losers' and 'rejects.' But really, there's nothing wrong with that. In Azerbaijan, parenting doesn't stop when your child reaches 18. Parenting never stops. You don't cut off ties with eveyone once you leave the house. Your sisters and brothers are your classmates and best friends. That's so rare for Americans...why do we think it is shameful to rely on your family every once and a while for a little assistance?

Because we hate weakness. We hate to show weakness, we hate to see weakness, probably because we fear it in ourselves. But there is nothing wrong with reaching out for help every once and a while. Or saying, "yeah, I can totally do that alone. But I don't WANT to. I'd rather have someone by my side."

What this has taught me: To toughen up.

Seeing these traits in Azerbaijani families has made me want them in my own. In however many years, when I have a family, I want to make time for dinner. I want to enjoy meals as a family...or at least enjoy them with as much as the family as possible. We move so fast, we have no time together. We're always on our phones or online...we miss out on spending time with the people we love and want to be with.

I worked so hard when I was in high school to get out and be on my own. I wanted to run, and leave, and do things by myself, and for myself, and on my own. And you know, I did them. But it was lonely. Joining Peace Corps, I didn't think I'd be corresponding with my parents as much as I do now. But skype has been my greatest joy.

Being separated from my parents, and knowing that separation will continue for at least another two years, really makes me want to make the most of the time that I do have. And really shows me how valuable our relationship is. Sometimes, I think about time I have wasted being away from home. All the shopping dates I could've gone on with my mom, bike rides I could have taken with my dad, or going to my cousin's choir concerts. But that's a sacrifice I chose. For me to be able to come here, and do the work that I do, I had to give those things up. I know there really is no way to measure whether or not it is worth it, and I certainly don't regret the choices I made, but sometimes I miss those moments that I could have had. Which makes me want to create even more of them now.

You can't mourn the past. Well, you're allowed a period of time, but you shouldn't be mourning things that never happened. If you really want it, you have to make it a reality. And that's where I've learned to toughen up. You can't wait around for life to come make you happy. You have to find it yourself. And sometimes, people will disagree with you. I've found plenty of people who are still stuck in the, "I'm on my own I don't need anybody"-phase. And yeah, I don't NEED others either, but I want them to be there. And I will never apologize for that.

Its Basically The Week Before Christmas

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Azerbaijan Bat Fishing in Montana

2012-05-27 12:09:00

I'm not a big list maker, but right now to my immediate right are two sheets of paper filled with items and checkboxes, acting as a hovering boss, reminding me of everything I need to do before Turkey. Choosing to have this vacation the very first week I'm out of school was probably the 2nd best decision made for this trip (right after deciding to rent a yacht with 15 friends and family).

But in this week approaching, a lot of very 'peace-corps volunteer' things are crammed.

Today, North Finger PCVs and community leaders held a Jr. Counselor Training. 18 kids from Guba, Xudat, and Xachmaz came to a day filled with games, arts and crafts, and leadership training to prepare them to help put on a camp. Something we learned last summer was we needed to to train the Jr. Counselors and it worked out wonderfully. It recreated a day of camp while at the same time explaining and reviewing the responsibilities that Jr. Counselors were committing to. And the training will benefit 3 cities, instead of just one-which always makes me feel more productive.

School also officially ends this week. Now technically, kids have already received their grades and books have been handed in. For an education tradition focused on teaching exclusively from and by the book, once the book is out of their hands, the learning segment of school has ended. But this week, the actual closing ceremony Son Zeng (Last Bell) will happen, and all AZ8 TEFLs will collectively exhale a sigh of relief strong enough to extinguish the eternal flame on Martyr's Lane.

Finally, on next Sunday we have our first away game for softball, in Baku. Our team has been waiting for this tournament for a long time for one main reason-to defeat Khachmaz Maximum arch-rival: Bilasavar. Bilasavar is good, really really good and the hyper-compteitive Maximum finish a tournament only to immediately plot for the next one. At the Baku tournament in fall last year our team was most excited by the fact that they lost to Bilasavar 8-6, an improvement upon the previous defeat of 11-4. I definitely will have the camera ready for this game, to capture the sweet joy of victory or bitter taste of defeat.

So, a lot is happening in these seven days. Whether in school, at Apple, or in the Peace Corps, I've always had to earn my vacation most in the final stretch. But that certainly makes the prize that much sweeter.

Eurovision: Light Your Fire

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Azerbaijan Oz-erbaijan

2012-05-27 08:59:00

Well, that was fast. Eurovision has come and gone. In a way, it feels like a bit of a letdown. Azerbaijan has been planning for this event for a year, ever since they won last year’s competition. Massive construction has been underway in the capital, including a brand new performance center just for the event. I have yet to see the full results of the work, but from traveling in Baku for the past year, I can tell you it was extensive. All this work, all this anticipation, and in one week, it’s all over. Several PCVs went into Baku for the competition, but for most of us, travel was restricted because of how crazy and busy Baku would be. For those who don’t know, and before coming here, I was one of you, Eurovision is like an annual international American Idol. Each country has one entry, whether it is a group or individual artist. The countries then vote on their favorite performances (apparently, it can get political, with countries that are generally friends voting for each other and countries that are generally at odds saving their votes for others) and a winner is anointed. There are two semi-final performance nights, and ten qualifiers based on online or phone voting move onto the final night, along with the “Big Five” and the host country. (Thanks for help on that, Wikipedia!) The Big Five are what you’d expect probably—France, Spain, UK, Italy, Germany. In the end, Sweden came away with the win, and will be the host of next year’s competition. My personal favorite, Russia, came in second. Russia’s entry was a group of small, old babushkas, definitely not the norm for this competition, which is filled with young men and women belting out pop music and dancing enthusiastically around the stage. Their performance was also unique or at least rare for their more cultural-sounding song. Most songs are typical international pop, with lyrics in English and little to differentiate between each country. Turkey had a little cultural feel to their song as well. Even Azerbaijan, which came in fourth, had a little traditional singing in the background, the wavering voice that is common in the mugam style. I have a personal award to give out, for best name. There really was no contest, because Englebert Humperdinck from the UK stole this from everyone. Clearly not the best singer/performer (UK came in 25 out of the 26 finalists), but easily the best name I’ve heard in years. Let that sink in for a minute. Englerbert. Humperdinck. Being here in Azerbaijan over the past year has been an interesting experience. Watching the competition to select the Azeri representative, crashed by two PCVs performing as the Caspian Dreamers, was a lot of fun. Seeing Baku and Azerbaijan try to prepare to play a larger part on the world stage in particular has been interesting. Azerbaijan is not a perfect country, nor is any, and they’ve struggled to determine what face they will show to the world. And fielding questions about why America does not participate or follow Eurovision has been fun though somewhat repetitive (think about what continent America is on…). But now, with the event over and done, and the visitors leaving the country, how will Azerbaijan maintain its newfound fame? That is the question.

Carpet Picnic

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Azerbaijan Peace Corps in Azerbaijan

2012-05-27 03:55:00

Here I sit in the comforts of my little, pink kitchen. It is 7am. I am listening to the morning sounds starting to emerge from the evening slumber. The birds chirping, the cows with their morning feeding calls, the geese emerging from their sheds, watching the old neighbor man walking his cows out to the pasture. Milk is slowly heating up on my mini-gas bubble. The neighbors had brought milk over last night, after just milking their cow, and will be a nice addition in my morning coffee.

Last night I had some PCV's over and one needed to head out early so I called my trusty taxi driver, Rahim, take her to the main road to catch her bus. I need to give a big shout-out to this man. He has been exceptionally helpful to me during my time in the village. If I need a ride or need to get my gas tank refilled, he is always willing to help me in anyway he can. The generosity of one this one person has made my time here comforting.

Grace and I chilling on the patio

Yesterday all four of us (Grace, Jenna, Caroline and I) brought all the dovseks (mattresses) out to my patio and had a nice carpet picnic while enjoying the sunny weather. The simple idea of laying around with good conversation truly perks up my day. We had purchased cherries from the city bazaar, as they are now in season, and was enjoying the fruits of the spring. Now I know where that expression comes from! We made a vegetable salad from fresh tomatoes and cucumbers grown in local gardens.

Stopped for ice cream at the store

My neighbors were making tandier bread yesterday and one volunteer hadn't seen this process so we walked over to watch them bake bread. Within minutes about 6 neighbor children were surrounding us wanting to see what we were up to. It seems that once one child comes to see what is happening, they all start to swarm around us.

We headed home only to a large gust of wind swirling around us so we moved our picnic inside. Ten minutes later my neighbor peeks her head through my front door and handed us a fresh piece of tandier bread. Needless to say, it was demolished.

The swarm

Chilling in the canal

Neighbor kids

Tandier bread in the making

It is enjoyable moments like this that I will miss about my Peace Corps service. The comforts of my village life will always be in my thoughts on days like these.

~photos courtesy of Jenna Oelschlegel

The Evil Eye and Mountain Karma

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Azerbaijan The Brief Note™

2012-05-26 13:09:20

In the new-country experience, visual culture is the easiest to consume – and also the easiest to misunderstand. The foreign gaze has no bearings, no context, limited emotional weight to add to what they see. One of these obvious artifacts that pops out to the Baku tourist is the Göz Muncuğu or Nazar Boncuğu (“eye bead” or “evil eye amulet”). It [...]

OMG - Conversation Madness - Or not so Mad

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Azerbaijan These Boots are made for Hiking

2012-05-26 05:09:00

The art project

Many things I have learned here. I thank God every day for living in America where we have so much. I have learned that Teachers here pay for EVERYTHING and I mean everything. This is a newer school but we have been without water for weeks. I do bring my own hand sanitizer but what about everyone else??? I kept asking my counterpart why no water, do you know how unsanitary that is for both the children and teachers? Well, finally I was told that apparently a trap of some sort broke and all teachers were required to pay money for the part before it could be repair. This is just amazing to me, the teachers pay to work at school, pay for books, pay for supplies, pay for copies and everything else. Wow!!!

As it was coming to the end of the school year (and sooner for us because of the earthquake!!), my friend and Ya Ya sister Alicia (thank you so much friend) sent me bandannas and cloth paint for an art project for the children. I wanted to wait to close to the end of the school year to have a fun project for the students and then I realize that my club kept growing and my friend only sent me 30 bandannas, but I had close to 60 children, what to do?? I opened the bandannas and they were huge so I cut each one diagonally and then took them to a tailor to sew a seam where I had cut them. Now I have 60 bandannas and the tailor charged me 2 manat (about $3.50) to sew 60 seams, what a bargain!!! There is another problem here, most children are not creative, they have rulers and everything must be drawn perfect, so drawing free hand is out of there comfort zone and they would actually freak out and just don't know what to do. I had all the students put their names, year and village (Alliabad), but everything else was free hand. So before they even started, I had them drawing in their notebook what they would like to see on their bandana... Now this week the students because of no school they were told word of mouth about the art club, so I only had about 20 total students, but they were happy and had a great day.... Okay, here are the results:

Aren't these kids AWESOME!!!! Once they got started, they became very creative... yea

Life Challenge: Art enables us to find ourselves and lose ourselves at the same time... Thomas Merton

Over the River and through the Woods

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Azerbaijan Meggs22's Blog

2012-05-25 05:55:33

This week is the start of Eurovision in Azerbaijan. Now I had no idea what Eurovision was until I came to this country. Eurovision is a song contest in which every country in the European Broadcasting Union submits a song and all countries vote for the other countries songs to determine the most popular song. [...]

Ode to my Brothers

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Azerbaijan Peace Corps in Azerbaijan

2012-05-24 10:14:00

I would not be the person today if it wasn't for my fabulous brothers. I write this because while living so far away from all of them and having so much time on my hands to think, I have come to the realization how family is very important. I knew this before, but I have a new-found appreciation for them. In the many years to come, my brothers are all who will be around and who will completely understand who I am since we all have known each other from day one.

Yes, we had (still have) many fights, quarrels, and disagreements. But, in the end we all understand each other. We are all very different people, but when we get together our sibling connection is apparent.

Mark. He is and always will be my role-model. Being 5 years younger, I always looked up to my big brother. I was that annoying little sister following always him around wanting so badly to play with my brother and get his attention. This meant playing Star Wars or his G.I. Joe's always becoming friends with my barbies. This also meant being the guinea pig in his magic acts which usually ended up with me being tied up and placed somewhere...the closet, inside the fold-out couch then folded-in again, or locked outside. I endured wrestling matches I always lost, tickle fights, loogies in the ear and even a sucker for playing the "game" how fast can you eat that scoop of frozen coke *insert brain freeze* No matter the tough love I endured, it made me a stronger person today.

I remember the first time Mark told me he was proud of his beautiful sister. I was getting out of surgery and Mark was waiting for me to wake before heading to the airport to board his flight to Europe. In my groggy state, Mark said he was proud of his beautiful, little sister. I remember being so surprised by his words and knowing he had my best interests at heart.

Upon coming to the Peace Corps, Mark wanted to hang with his sister for the day. Me, still that kid at heart, was excited to hang out with my big brother; just the two of us. We bowled, played games, ate orange slushies, watched Breaking Bad from the comforts of his movie room. The last goodbye before boarding my early flight the next day, Mark says to me he wanted to give me something to take on my trip. He had ran around the mall thinking of what to get and couldn't find anything. Then as he stopped at his work place and on the way out he had seen something from the corner of his eye; the perfect memento. Then he pulls from his pocket a small Dorothy figurine from the Wizard of Oz. He says to me, "So you find your way home."

Brian. I think Brian and I were supposed to be twins, but he decided to hang out for awhile before entering the world. Being so close in age, we seem to have that twin connection. It is creepy sometimes. His mind seems to work in the disorderly fashion like mine. I cannot remember a single childhood memory without Brian and I getting into some mischief. We had the same friends, played kickball, hide from cars (the name explains the game), tag, toss pine cones at the Rose's (neighbor kids). You name it, we were always playing around outside. Our toys even were friends...barbies, my little unicorn, ninja turtles, G.I.Joe's, He-Man.

Brian even came to Phoenix, twice, to visit. He is always game for a little adventure. I always know if I need something or have a problem, Brian will help me out. All around, Brian is just a cool, awesome, terrific brother. His drive for personal talent has gotten him to be the talented, one-of-a-kind person he is today.

Tim. Where do I start with Tim? Being the little brother, Tim was subject to my little doll syndrome. I would put make-up on him, dress him in girl clothes and do his hair. (Sorry Tim!) He was usually the last one picked or left out of the game. (Again sorry!) But he stuck with us and never let us stray. Tim has been the rock in our family and still today has kept our family together. He has challenged all of us and has kept us on our toes to a new approach of life. His smile lights up the room.

He may not know this but Tim is an even more talented brother. I have probably been really hard on Tim the most only because I see all this talent in him and was sad he hadn't been sharing it. Now, it has slowly been emerging and I see this shine in Tim and am so proud of him. I love to see his passion for his love of music down to every small task he partakes in. Tim has the biggest heart and is a very loyal, trusting brother. Even though he dumped dirt in my fish tank and killed my fish, I won't hold that against him. :)

I am grateful for all of my brothers in my life. I am lucky to call each one of them family and so very blessed to be their sister. Through all the tough times I have endured living overseas, I think back to the amazing memories with my brothers and all I can do is smile and thank each one of them for being in my life and showing me the way.

At Slide Park in Bismarck, ND

Our last night together before coming to the Peace Corps

Ultralight Traveling in Azerbaijan

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Azerbaijan Bat Fishing in Montana

2012-05-24 07:38:00

Just this for a week. And if you can pack for a week, you basically can pack for a month

Once you accept it, traveling light is extremely easy to do. No matter if you're in the US, or backpacking around the world, or hopping on and off mushrutkas in Azerbaijan-if you except the ultralight traveling mentality you can do it anywhere. The basic assumption of ultralight travel is that you will enjoy your journey more by having less stuff to weigh you down, both literally and mentally.

So, for my trip south, I experimented with some ultralight travel, choosing to limit myself to a gym bag that normally used to hold a pair of shoes and a workout shirt and shorts. It was liberating to have a bag smaller than Glendene's purse, let alone her backpack. Hurriedly hopping on and off mushrutkas and buses was a breeze, and I was able to easily traipse through the various cities we visited unencumbered by a heavy load.

1) You will do laundry. I did laundry twice, once by hand and once in a machine.

2) To get rid of weight: buy and borrow. I purchased 2 mini-soaps (total: 80 gepik) and borrowed shampoo and telephone chargers.

Here's my list for a week of travel that included hiking in the Talyish mountains, swimming in hot springs, and partying till 4 in the morning in Baku. We were in very conservative areas and more progressive areas, and we hung out with Azeris and Americans.

Gotta Stay Fly:
Jeans (worn)
3 shirts (wore 1)
1 undershirt
3 pairs of underwear (wore 1)
2 pairs of socks (wore 1)
1 pair of shorts, for swimming and working out
sunglasses
sneakers (wore)

So Fresh, So Clean:
toothbrush/toothpaste
floss
razor/blades
deodorant
travel sized lotion from a hotel
travel towel
mosquito repellant that plugs into the wall
earplugs
lip balm

Bring Da Ruckus:
iPod touch/charge/headphones
camera/extra battery
notebook (with two ripped out crossword puzzles-great idea!)
pen
kindle
2 phones (one for psn)
wallet
keys

Bag:
Nike gym bag

This worked out very very well for the week and will probably serve as the skeleton for my sojourn through SE Asia in 2013-though with some different clothes. I'm glad I brought the iPod Touch instead of the iPad, I didn't need the screen real estate of the iPad-the iPod served me fine for my internet needs. The mosquito repellant was a little bulky but a godsend. I hardly had any bites throughout this trip, and Glendene would wake up covered if we weren't sleeping in the same room.

Traveling in-country is nice, people are cool with sharing toiletries and everyone has extra bedding. The next time I won't even bring my kindle, I picked up a book at the first stop and didn't open the kindle once. I also won't bring my razor. I usually shave about once a week in country, maybe twice, and it would be simpler to just buy a disposable for about 50 gepik. I do need to add a scrubby cloth to this list, which I ended up purchasing midway through and really is a necessary item.

I purchased water throughout the way, and would fill empty water bottles at volunteers' houses. In the very beginning I also purchased a manat worth of almonds, which gave me a much needed something to munch on throughout the trip while waiting on mushrutkas.

My upcoming trip to Turkey will be decidedly much less minimal.

Just an Average Day

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Azerbaijan Peace Corps in Azerbaijan

2012-05-24 08:00:00

It is noon here on a sunny, Thursday afternoon here in the village. Usually my days aren't too eventful at home, but today seems to be pretty busy considering it is only noon. Here are a few things that have happened so far:

1. Made breakfast (pancakes) only to notice one of my burners is working. The other one just creates a small fire, which can't be safe. I realized it is just the burner part so now I need to go into the city to purchase a new one.

2. Washed dishes. This is never a small task.

3. Boiled water to wash my face.

4. I attacked the squat with water, bleach and a scrub brush. Enuf said.

5. Scrubbed the goose poop from the landing located outside the squat. For some reason the geese who reside in my yard, love to hang out there (of all the places in my large yard) and poop uncontrollably.

6. Tortured the geese, by running after them.

7. Pulled weeds to create more of a trail to my front gate and to the squat.

8. Rotated my bed cushions.

9. Washed clothes...by hand.

10. As I was brushing my teeth standing on the patio (as I usually do), I noticed my neighbor walking across the pasture with something hanging off the edge of his shovel. At first I thought he killed a snake and was carrying it home. But, as he got closer, I noticed they were some form of animal balls. I assume it just happened as I could still see the blood dripping from them *barf* and I also assume he was carrying them home for his wife to cook up for supper. Let's just say, I am not going over there for dinner tonight.

11. My neighbor lady was washing her rugs behind my house. She sat on a rock for two hours pounding away with a stick to get out all the dirt.

12. Swept out the cobwebs from my shower room.

13. Did some knitting while watching a few episodes of Parks & Recreation.

14. Burned my trash. I burn the paper products, but the non-burnable products I carry into the city to toss. I do this for two reasons. One- I have this issue with throwing trash on the ground and feel more comfortable placing it into a trash bin. Two- My neighbors like to go through my trash because they either think my trash is very interesting or they are being snoopy. I really am a local celebrity around here when I am interesting enough where people look through my trash.

13. Swept my kitchen only to find a toad hidden behind my fridge. Still not sure how he got in there.

14. Fed the geese my stale bread.

15. And wrote this blog. :)

Growing up in North Dakota one could assume I lived in a tepee, had a covered wagon and tended my flock of sheep, but this was not the case. Although today, I live in a small house, have no motor vehicle and chase geese for fun.

The Newsfeed: May21st-27th

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Azerbaijan salam. means. peace.

2012-05-23 15:16:00

The New Yoker, The News Desk
Al-Jazeera, Al-Jazeera World: "The Israeli Dervish"
Minnesota Public Radio: "Some Minnesota Priests Differ with Catholic Church Over Marriage Amendment"
MinnPost: "Sister Brigid McDonald Calls Vatican Reprimand of US Nuns Group a Misuse of Power"
The Huffington Post: "The Great Gatsby Trailer: You Crazy for this One, Baz Luhrmann"
CNN: "Election Day: Finally, Egypt is Born"
The Washington Post: "After President Obama's Announcement, Opposition to Same-Sex Marriage Hits Record Low"
National Public Radio: "What Does Ron Paul Want? Hint: It's Not About the 2012 GOP Election"
The New York Times: "For Native American Women, Scourge of Rape, Rare Justice"
Politico: "Arkansas and Kentucky--They Aren't the New W. Virginia"

Call me “Kitayski”

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Azerbaijan Land of Az

2012-05-22 14:20:47

Just call me Kitayski. After 8 months of living in this country, I almost feel like that’s my name anyway. I’ll be walking down the street, dodging Ladas (the Soviet Era choice of car here), contemplating a trip to the bazaar, when - “Kitayski… Kitayski.” Even better, “NEE HOW. NEE HOW. NEE HOW.” It comes [...]

Hip-Hop From The Land Of Fire: Ado - Soz Verirem

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Azerbaijan Bat Fishing in Montana

2012-05-22 11:06:00

Well, there's been a bit happening in the Azeri Rap micro-universe to catch up on after having been gone for a week (I can't imagine what coming back from Turkey will be like..) Uran released a solid video, Remo and Hell Resident each came out with new singles, and Faust and Ramirez of Kavkaz Klan are busy doing more and more to promote their new album.

But, perhaps more consequentially, Ado, the first female Azeri rapper I've ever come across, released her first single (that I've been able to find) this week. Simple production compliments the soft but strong voice of Ado, whether when she's singing or rapping. Check it out below.

SEO love to RapRock.Az

Ado - Soz Verirem (which means 'I Promise')

Oh alright, here's the new Uran Video since you asked so nicely.

Previous Hip-Hop From The Land of Fire: Enemy & Black

Azerbaijan Student Film Festival

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Azerbaijan Hot Siberia

2012-05-22 06:39:41

Dear friends and family, with the help of some very talented people here in Azerbaijan we’re very close to making the Azerbaijani Student Film Festival a reality. This festival will give students from across the country the chance to make and share movies with each other. Everything is ready, we jut need your help! Please …

Opening Day Dramatics

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Azerbaijan AzerbyJake

2012-05-21 07:26:00

It’s hard to pinpoint exactly how I feel about the excitement that was the Azerbaijan Interregional Softball League’s 2012 season opening day. It was a complete and utter failure – one of epic proportions. The day was also an immense success – the kind that creates lifelong memories and leaves a smile on your face for weeks to come. Both the failure and success of this antithetical day will set the foundation for the future of softball in Balakan, as well as for the rest of the Dragon’s 2012 season. However, they were reciprocal occurrences, the failure and success; we could not have had one without the other. In that regard, I guess I really don’t have much to complain about. I guess that when I stop and reflect, this day is perfectly reconcilable and should only lead to greater success in the future. One can only hope!

I rose early this morning, soaked some laundry, replied to a couple of emails, and had a good breakfast, putting myself through a calming routine like I used to before lacrosse games, as if I were the one actually competing today. The team was supposed to meet in front of my house at 8:30 in order to catch a 9am bus to Zaqatala, where we would catch another bus to Jane’s village where the tournament was being held. The kids slowly started trickling in. Within 10 minutes, 5 of them had arrived, small gym bags with snacks and water in tow. I went out to meet them. They were anxious. Only 1 of the 5 played in a tournament last year, and although the other four had come a long way over the last month and were definitely ready for real competition, their nerves were starting to show. They kept asking simple, useless questions, somehow probing for a magical answer that would calm them down. Trey arrived with the hats and uniforms and we fitted the present 5. The excitement started to build. We then waited for everyone else to show up. They never came. That excitement quickly deflated to worry. The minutes passed in sets of 10, but still just 5 players remained. The kids looked at us, as if it were our fault no one else was showing up. Trey and I looked at each other, no answers or explanations. Everyone had been called last night; everyone should be here. I retreated to my house to call the missing players, the frustration setting in.

Each call came with the same response. Mothers and fathers were too worried about the earthquakes that had been “ravaging” the regions to allow their kids to go. Zaqatala, after all, was the epicenter of most of these small rumblings. I did my best to calm and dissuade them.

On a straight line, we’re only about 10km away from the epicenter, so there’s not too much of a difference in danger between here and there. That was dismissed.

We’ll be outside on a field all day, the safest place to be should another occur – much safer than in the apartment buildings where they were forcing our players to remain. Nope, not good enough.

You can’t predict earthquakes, there’s just no way of knowing. Didn’t stand a chance.

There was no shaking them (haha), no dissuading a mother or father’s protective instinct. We would be going to opening day with only 5 players.

Miraculously, one more showed up at the last second. Although this wouldn’t change anything in terms of not having enough players to field a team, it somehow brought life back to the team. Somehow, 6 would be enough; we’d make it work. So, trucker hats and spray painted t-shirts on, we set out for Danachi for opening day.

Danachi and Oguz both had full teams. We made arrangements to have a couple of Oguz’s extra players join our team for the day. At first, I felt embarrassed. Trey and I are both on the 4-person committee that runs the entire softball league. We spend much of our time working out the finances and schedule of the league and doing all we can to help other volunteers establish their teams. We do all of this, yet somehow we couldn’t manage to field a full team for opening day. It certainly wasn’t my proudest moment. That was until Danachi and Oguz started playing in their first game. I strayed away from my team to talk to some other volunteers and guests who made the trip to watch the tournament. For a second, I lost track of my kids. I looked back in their direction to check on them. Instead of seeing 6 boys sword fighting with bats and horsing around, I saw 6 boys sitting in a group watching the game, analyzing the mistakes being made, working out field positions and batting order, plotting and preparing for their own upcoming match. They weren’t phased by the fact that they were younger, smaller, or that there were only 6 of them. We were going to be just fine!

The rest if history.

We lost both games, by mere hairs. Last year we lost to Oguz 15-1 on a mercy rule in the second inning, I think. This year, 9-8 on a walk-off double in the bottom of the final inning.

We lost to Danachi 7-6, stranding the tying and go-ahead runs at second and third after a brilliant catch by the Danachi shortstop.

Our pitcher Sabuhi, one of our newest players, played like a veteran. He pitched both games and was an absolute defensive stalwart.

Muslim and Emil played like the veterans they are, captaining the team and providing some much needed leadership and composure.

Zaur, by far the youngest and smallest player from any of the teams, played like a giant. Despite struggling to catch and hit in practice, he played third base with such poise and came up with a big play in the Danachi game to keep the team’s hopes alive. He also failed to strike out once, making it on base in every single one of his at-bats.

Rashad was the late addition. He’d played in practices back in Balakan before, but had not played at all this season. Out of no where he became our best base runner.

We had a seventh player named Ruslan join our team at the last second. He was Muslim’s friend from ABLE camp and showed up just to watch. Just like Fulton Reed in D1, we gave the lanky 6-footer a t-shirt and hat and through him in the mix, never having played before. On his second at bat, EVER, he hit a double over the centerfielders head!

It’s hard to explain how excited Trey and I were, and still are. Last year, we got clobbered every single game. It was difficult to get our kids eager to play because they didn’t stand a chance. We couldn’t figure out why. What were we doing wrong? Today, Trey and I kept looking at each other from across the field (he’s coaches third base while I take first) with these dumbfounded looks of amazement, ear-to-ear grins on our faces. Where did this come from?! We weren’t just hanging in there, we were making it a game, and we were having fun! Our failure to produce a full team on the most anticipated day of the season quickly and seamlessly transformed into our greatest success. Our small group of boys had finally become a team, they had come together and were starting to believe. The whole bus ride home, all we could hear was, “If only we had a few more players.”, “If only I hadn’t dropped that ball.”, “If only I had tagged up.”. If only, if only, if only. They boys realized how close they were to winning both those games. Just one mistake, one little thing different and the games could have easily gone the other way! They were learning!

Before we even got home they had scheduled practices for Monday, Wednesday, Saturday, and Sunday of the upcoming week and were on the phone with the players who had not come, telling them the news and explaining the importance of them showing up in the future.

There are no guarantees that we’ll get more players to come, and we’re still 0-2, but the future is brighter than ever and for the first time, the Balakan Dragons expect to win!

The Balakan Dragons

Trey and Rashad

Sabuhi sporting our uniforms

Emil with the first at-bat of the season

Lets Take A Trip Down South

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Azerbaijan Bat Fishing in Montana

2012-05-20 16:28:00

Martyrs Lane and Flame Towers as seen from the Boulevard

From family, from email, from school-I've been a bit MIA this week. School is coming to a close and I've got a pretty bomb vacation coming up. Yet even still I found I couldn't get that far without taking a break or losing my mind. So Glendene and I decided to pack our bags and take a mental health vacation to the south for the week.

Traveling through my own Peace Corps country shows me everything good about Azerbaijan. Its incredibly easy to travel around the regions-even when we ended up taking the wrong way when trying to get to the out-of-the-way Saatli we were able to eventually flag down a mushrutka headed in that direction. Travel costs can add up when tripping around, but its costs like 4 or 6 manat-not like the 30 or 40 dollars that can easily get into a tank of gas.

Additionally, traveling in country really shows how much of an understanding of the culture and language I actually have. Thinking of my first trip during PST, I was afraid I would either a) not get there, b) be unable to use a bathroom in a time of need, or c) get on the wrong bus. None of those things happened, and none of those things ever happen. The same language level that frustrates me in my community is the level that allows me travel with ease and make friends along the way. Its great.

No region city really has a week's worth of sights and activities to do, but when visiting PCVs you get a nice highlights tour. Its great to see the best of a city or village, whether its their friends, parks, or surrounding nature, with the American living there. In Bilasuvar we visited the PCVs beautiful magnet school where he works and saw the Talysh mountains in Iran. We hiked in the mountains and enjoyed the mineral hot springs before feasting on a southern speciality-levengie chicken in Lenkeran. We traveled off road for about 3 hours to visit Saatli and saw some of the most extensive rose gardens in Azerbaijan.

And we got to see Baku in all its Eurovision glory on a beautiful weekend. As winners of last year's Eurovision, Baku will be hosting Eurovision this week and it has spent millions, and possibly billions, preparing a week-long coming of age ball as it unveils itself to the rest of Europe. They've expanded their boulevard, invested heavily in public art, built new entertainment centers and museums, and renovated hundreds of buildings. At night we saw fireworks over the Caspian, animated displays on the LED filled flame towers, which tower over the city, and reinterpretations of Baku's Maiden Tower from artists all over the world projected onto the 1200 year old Maiden Tower itself.

To be honest, I was skeptical of Baku's ability to pull off an event like Eurovision in a way that would leave people inspired and impressed with the city, but they've done an excellent job. Azerbaijan has a lot to be proud of in the way they are presenting themselves and Baku is frantic and beautiful right now. I hope they maintain some of this creativity as Eurovision ends and I look forward to enjoying the city even more.

Photos coming soon.

Up to bat at the bankomat: A note on ATM etiquette

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Azerbaijan The Brief Note™

2012-05-19 17:15:35

In Azerbaijan, you need cash to get around. Paying with a card is so rare that in some places showing plastic will only get a chuckle out of the cashier. Of course, in Baku, there are a couple of places that will accept credit cards, but even when I’ve seen the “Visa” or “Mastercard” stickers [...]

Strike Up the Band, It's Wedding Season: Or, My First Azeri Wedding

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Azerbaijan Oz-erbaijan

2012-05-19 15:01:00

Here in Azerbaijan, there are a number of cultural traditions, holidays, etc. that are sort of the must-do, bucket list things that you have to do while living in Azerbaijan. Jump over a fire at Novruz. Eat xash with vodka early in the morning. Go guesting. But perhaps the top of the list is to go to a wedding. My fellow PCVs have been going to weddings almost since we got off the plane. But for me, the invitations never came. I never really knew anyone who was going to get married. Not that that always seems to matter. People have been known to be invited off the street. But not me. What was wrong with me? I’m good enough, I’m smart enough, and doggone it, people like me! And yet, the wedding invites remained elusive. Until now. A teacher at my school was planning on getting married. I’d heard about his engagement, and I’d made up my mind that I was going to get an invitation. The two of us have a running joke where he asks me if I can take him to America, and I ask him if he can fit in a bag (he’s not a tall man). A month before his wedding, I was sitting in our school cafeteria over tea, and the others at the table were questioning me about wedding traditions in America. He jokingly asked me what I would give him for his wedding. After some laughter—I’m a guest after all, and wasn’t actually being required to bring a gift—I told him I’d bring him a suitcase. Uproarious laughter. The week before the actual event, invitations were passed around the school, all around me and under my nose. A couple teachers asked me if I was going, and when I said I hadn’t received an invitation, they immediately called the teacher and made sure I would be getting an invite. The next day it was there. I was going to a wedding! But wait, at the same time, my host family was invited to a neighbor’s wedding and they were taking me. The catch, it was on the same day, at the same time, on different sides of town. Since I didn’t really know the groom at my host family’s wedding, I decided I’d go to that wedding for an hour, and then go to the other wedding. We arrived at the wedding hall (most weddings in Azerbaijan are held in special party and wedding halls called Shadliq Saray, or Joyful Palace), and the doors were still closed. We loitered for a few minutes until everyone was allowed in, and we all rushed to find open seats. At the tables already were cold starters and bottles of juice, soda, and vodka and beer. As we waited, staff members hovered around, filming constantly, pouring drinks and slyly removing the alcohol from the tables where women were seated. Around the walls were large televisions, on which the night’s events were constantly broadcast. The lights went low and on the far side of the room, a garage door opened, and a shining white car rolled in, lights flashing. Out climbed the new couple, and the staff blasted confetti into the air with leaf blowers. There was a bubble machine! I left shortly after the couple took their place at a table overlooking the hall (and managing to spill Fanta on my pants—can’t take me anywhere). I stopped off at home to change pants and then caught a cab to the second wedding. The second I walked in, I was dragged onto the dance floor to show off my totally awesome Azeri dance moves. This means lots of arms in the air like airplane wings, feet kicks, and a sense of rhythm. The music was pretty much constant, with a live band playing tar, saz, drums, and alternated between fast-paced dance music and fast-paced non-dance music. In between the dancing, there was eating. Plate after plate of kebab, and the others at my table kept sending food and drinks whenever the waiters passed. Immediately after I put down my fork, I’d be rushed back onto the dance floor. This was what I’d been waiting a year and a half for, and despite my stomach cramping up it was worth it. Azeri wedding parties are no small matter. They often stretch on into the night, lasting five, six hours or more. This is at a shadliq saray, mind you. When weddings are held at home or in the village, they can last all night. The longest I’ve heard of was a two-day affair, lasting 14 hours or so each day. Frankly, I would have been more impressed if it had been two days straight, but still, not too shabby. I left the wedding around 10pm, and it was still going strong. A number of people had slipped out, first being sure to get their commemorative photo with the bride and groom. About an hour after I got home, I heard my host family return. We had fun talking about our comparative experiences and learning more about wedding traditions and practices, but shortly after I collapsed into bed. Dancing Azeri-style takes a lot of energy.

Black Magic

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Azerbaijan Life on the Edge

2012-05-18 17:22:00

Well, we had another earthquake this afternoon, though I am inclined to say it wasn't as severe as the first one (which was nearly two weeks ago). But I am no scientist. I was in my apartment, eating, when I felt it. My first reaction, "Not this again!" So I rather leisurely put some normal clothes on, grabbed my purse (with passport - no computer, and no smurf), and headed to Esmira's.

I think she was more frightened for me than I was, because she had called me just after it happened. So I bounced over, hung out, drank some tea, and learned a thing or two about earthquakes.

First of all, if I am going to sleep in my apartment tonight (which is a terrible idea apparently, as I should always stay with her from now on), I must not sleep under a window or under a wall, and preferably, I should sleep in the middle of the room on the floor under a table. (This is also while I am simultaneously texting my other Azeri mother - a 6th grader in one of my classes - who advised me to sleep in the bathroom.)

Secondly, there is a fortune teller in the region who has predicted that Eurovision will not happen. He says that a tsunami will come off of the Caspian and will force Azerbaijan to cancel the whole event.

And this, brings me to my weekly post.

I am going to miss: Magic and Superstition
I have never been around people who so genuinely believe in magic and superstition. I've heard stories from people who are convinced that fortune tellers are real, and can be paid to cast spells on people you love and hate. I've watched a woman try to cure my sitemate's wart by pressing wheat into it, then putting the wheat in a chicken liver (at least, I think it was a liver) and then burying it - saying that the wart will transfer to the wheat and live underground forever. I've been told that I'd get married and have a baby this year, and that all my wishes will come true. If you drop a fork, you'll have a male guest. A spoon, a female. Havent figured out what happens if you drop a knife...Even weddings here, which I have many problems with, are still made to be a young girl's wish - a big dress that makes you look like a cupcake, everyone fussing over you and telling you how beautiful you are...

There is something I absolutely love about each of these things. In America, superstitions are regarded as silly. Santa and magic are for children, and have no place in the real world. Wishes don't come true and stories rarely have happy endings. Maybe they don't, because we never expect them to. We never let them end happily. We are constantly searching for problems, trying to make our circumstances better, that we can't see the good that we have, and the hope that it will fulfill us. Obama was on to something with the 'HOPE' campaign. Hope is basically dead in America. We're all rather jaded and negative. (And this is coming from someone who has lived in a post-soviet country for almost three years). Of course there is resignation and skepticism here, and of course it is very easy to get discouraged (I've written about it a lot). But the kind of vulnerability that it takes to hope, and believe, in things that have absolutely no proof or science to back them...it's pretty incredible. We don't let ourselves hope. I'm a rather hopeful person by nature, and sometimes it feels like naivete. I sometimes wish I wasn't so optimistic and hopeful, and would stop setting myself up to be disappointed. But you know, sometimes, the wishes do come true. The good, and the bad.

I have learned: to embrace the awkard and random
Imagine, me being told by a friend that she is convinced someone in town has put a spell on her. "WTF?" would be anyone's natural reaction. But I've learned, just go with it. I've been in so many strange, bizarre, uncomfortable, and downright ridiculous situations in this country. And that's cool. Honestly, those experiences are the ones that stand out as the most interesting, and the most memorable. Getting guestnapped by a very short old man who was carrying an axe and only spoke Russian, bonding over incessant earthquakes, eating a salty pancake after being told it will show me my future husband, watching a lightning storm after the power goes out, and so many spontaneous dance parties...Azeris love to dance. Anytime, anywhere. It's great. I think I needed some shaking up...I've always been a Type A, a creature of routine, a homebody, and it's certainly never been a terrible thing...but it's nice to be able to loosen up a little. Stay out late on a Monday night, go cruising around in my buddy's car playing 1990's hip hop...good times.

Business Dealings...and many photos

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Azerbaijan Mary's Meanderings in Azerbaijan

2012-05-18 14:45:00

Business Dealings...and many photos...

Living on my own has introduced me to a few more new things about doing business in Azerbaijan. Every apartment dwelling and home has an electric meter box, with a small padlock. To ensure that you always have electricity hooked up to your place, you must load a credit/debit-type card with money, unlock your meter box, and stick the card into a special slot, thereby electronically adding funds to the account associated with your meter box. This sounds simple and easy, until you actually try to load the money onto the card.

First, you must go to the post office, where everyone gathers and crowds around, trying to get money put onto their cards, too. There is no such thing as standing in line or in a queue for anything in Azerbaijan, and so it is also at the post office. You just try to work your way eventually to the front in order to reach the counter, where you hand the clerk your money and your card. On a very old, slow dot-matrix printer, she prints out how much money you paid, and hands you back your card and the receipt. Then you go to another part of the post office and crowd around yet another counter, where you can eventually hand this second clerk your card and your receipt; he then records everything (by hand) and lays your card on a small indicator machine, which records onto the magnetic strip how much you paid, and loads that amount onto your card. Then you can take your card home and insert it into your meter box. It is not a very expeditious system, and I understand that in Baku there are now some kiosks in market stores, where you can do this automatically. Interestingly, this seems to be the main function and purpose of the post office. No one here has a mail box, there is no home delivery, and in fact people in general do not send mail or use the post office for anything other than paying utility bills. All the mail I receive here I pick up myself from the post office; I stop in every few days, just to see if I have any, and have gotten to know the man in charge of keeping our mail until we call for it—he wants me to take him to America when I leave! Many Azeris don’t really even know their own addresses or how to write it, because it is unnecessary to know—you never record it anywhere, because mail is not used for communication (cells phones are), nor for paying bills. Gas bills, too, are paid at a bank or post office. The utility bills, other than electric, are stuck on your door, so you know what to pay and when. Everything else, like these bills, is paid for in cash. There are some places in Baku that accept credit and debit cards, but in Mingachevir, as in all other regions of Azerbaijan, this is basically a pay-in-cash-only society. Crowding around in the post office or bank to pay utilities, though by our standards time-consuming, suits the way of doing things here—never in a rush, always taking time to chat with neighbors and friends—so none of this is seen as a nuisance, but simply the way things are done! Besides with very high unemployment, most men spend their days sitting with friends in the Cayxana (tea houses) all over town…chatting away, playing nard, taking it easy—life in a rush or on a set time-table is not part of how business is conducted here.

Several weeks ago, I had the honor of interviewing finalists in Baku for the SUSI program for Azerbaijani university students to spend six weeks in America, to learn about democracy, civic engagement, leadership, social responsibility. Supported by the U.S. State Department, this is a wonderful opportunity for Azeri young people to learn first-hand the kinds of things necessary for them to help their developing country continue to move forward. I was thoroughly impressed with their enthusiasm and the command of English of most of the applicants. I wish them all well. Again I marveled at the sights in the center of Baku and its old walled Icheri Sheher (Old Town); I enjoyed another concert at the Filharmonia and an ice-cream sundae at McDonald’s—just like home. Then it was time to climb back onto a crowded, worn, stuffy and hot marshrutka for the bumpy ride back to the ‘real’ Azerbaijan, the Azerbaijan where Peace Corps works. But it was good to be back home in Mingachevir and the job at hand. I’ve held some more well-received training sessions and traveled with my friend Gulnaz to Sheki to visit a colleague—productive times=good times.

Conducting a Training Seminar

Scenes from Beautiful Baku

Around the stone-wall fortifications...there used to be a double-moat, one filled with oil, which could then be set a-fire to turn back invaders--I bet it worked!

The Filharmonia...concert hall

The opera and ballet theatre

Literature museum

Rural life...and rural road 'jams'

Scenes from Spectacular Sheki...the old caravansarai--the hotel/stopping place for Silk Road caravaners.

Sheki halvasi--their special baklava

On the grounds of the old caravansarai

Their tea-house

Typical road jams

Back home at my apartment building, my apt. is top floor center with the wood-framed balcony, note pile of newly sheared sheep wool drying in the sun in front of the building stair-well entrance

About Time

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Azerbaijan Through Smoke, In the Land of Fire

2012-05-18 07:48:00

It is all about that time. It’s not only about time that I took time to write this blog, but it is also a part of the reason that there has been such a hesitation to begin this blog entry but it is really about time.

As I began to plan and anticipate this entry I sat back to think about my objective and reason for blogging. What is the purpose of writing out these thoughts and sharing them with the Internet world? Well, let me tell you. -Why again do I blog? Sometimes I need a refresher and a look back at the original intention to remember where I was going to with the activity. I also thought it is about time that I jot down my goal and maybe a few objectives to achieve the goal.

First and most evidently I intended my blog to be a means of sharing my experiences abroad. Simple. Goal noted. Now I can blog, right?

It begins to get messier when considering if blogging about it is the best way to achieve the goal. There are so many options- e-mail, Facebook, establishing a regular Skype connection, other social networks and even good old snail mail could do the trick. With unreliable access to Internet regular Skype calls ruled themselves out. With a lack of time and often energy, snail mail and for me- Facebook took a backseat. E-mail and blogging are the most practical options. Still restricted by time but realizing that this connection with family and friends back home requires me to make time and claim it for this purpose. My first objective decided, use e-mail and blogging resources to relay messages to family and friends in other parts of the world. Done and set.

As I started a blog and began writing I realized that I was not about to write everything that crossed my mind and some of my true feelings. Regardless of where I have been it has required me to learn something, open my mind to new perspectives, embrace ambiguity and all is best when I consider others above myself. Understanding these requires that I be very intentional in blogging as anyone in the entire world is welcome to read this blog that I established. I wanted to write as though friends and co-workers in different cultures were all reading this. My goal in blogging needed to be slightly modified. I now intend to use my blog as a means of sharing experiences abroad without intending to offend any one person or culture.

With the larger goal and my intended objective in mind I sat down to write and realized that my audience was an important consideration before beginning any post. If this were a letter, who would I address this to? I know, how about some family and friends? Yes I am addressing this to my family and friends, but I must also consider this an open message that anyone could hear. The blog I intended to create was something meant to be open to anyone to see if they so choose. Therefore even though the message may be for family and friends it must also carefully consider anyone who has access to these posts. I guess that is anyone in the world. Consider that. I’ll just save the extra personal notes for emails and letters home. Yes, it is set.

For those visual folks out there a few pictures must be included to spice things up a bit. Sometimes words fail to tell the story that the eyes can capture in a short moment of viewing. Yes indeed, pictures are a must.

One last important objective is to make it relevant to time. Once or twice I have been asked if I worked well in unstructured environments. Up until my time abroad I would have leaned towards yes in my answer. However the truth is I do appreciate a little structure. If the situation does not provide, I will just have to create my own structure. Blogging and sharing this experience in this type of forum is not something that comes natural to me. My objective is to post at least once a month. I promise. Wow, with a little sorting and modifications I feel more ready to blog than ever! Something like that… but blog I shall! If ever I forget my purpose in doing so, I will just recall this particular post from this time. My blog is a means of sharing experiences abroad with family and friends by posting pictures and stories at least once a month with intention not to offend any one person or culture.

It’s about time. Blog on.

Spaghetti with Sardines

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Azerbaijan Neither East nor West: Life at the Crossroads

2012-05-18 06:26:23

For the longest time I snubbed my nose at the idea of canned fish. Sure, I enjoyed the occasional tuna salad on crackers as a child, but when I had my first taste of a seared tuna steak there was … Continue reading →

Qax Pilgrimage

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Azerbaijan Making Wool from Eggs

2012-05-18 06:31:40

Time for a happy post, right?!?! My life is not all drab. In fact I have been having some fun. Early in May, I went on a pilgrimage in Qax. The pilgrimage is a Georgian Orthodox tradition to celebrate something a specific saint did. I know…. That sentence was filled with informative details about why [...]

Spaghetti with Sardines

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Azerbaijan Cooking in the Land of Fire

2012-05-18 06:30:58

Giant Samovar

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Azerbaijan Meggs22's Blog

2012-05-17 18:54:17

No matter what I’m doing or not doing, time seems to be flying around here. School is out in two weeks and my schedule is getting busier again. After coming back from Greece, I was having a hard time putting my clubs back together, but slowly and surely things are coming around. It’s crazy though [...]

'Tis the Season..

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Azerbaijan Liz's Life in Azerbaijan

2012-05-17 15:00:00

Tis the season…

The snow is long gone, the sun is out and it’s wedding (toy) season here in Azerbaijan. Everyone is going to weddings and engagement parties. I went to one of each recently, and they were as different from each other as Baku is from the rest of the country.

First my counterpart, Gulsabeh, invited me to her niece’s engagement party in a settlement outside of Sirvan. As far as I can tell, a settlement is even smaller than a village, which is quite a bit smaller than a “city” like Sirvan.

We took a “bus”, that was the usual decrepit and disintegrating 12 plus person van. I saw Azerbaijan’s Kur River for the first time as we bounced along country roads heading to the party. As we rumbled away from the city, the ubiquitous cinderblock houses became more scattered, and there were fields and open spaces between neighbors.

Gulsabeh’s brother welcomed us when we arrived, and as we went into his yard I spotted three huge pots, simmering on makeshift cinderblock fire rings, each with a well padded xanim (older woman) presiding over it.

We rounded the corner of the house, and it looked like a Silk Road Caravan had made a stop at Home Depot. An obviously long standing grape arbor had been turned into a party tent of sorts. The vines on top of the arbor were covered with blue plastic tarps, creating a surreal blue ceiling inside. The sides were made of carpets, or fabric printed to look like carpets. There were two long rows of white resin tables and chairs inside and scores of women had already claimed places. They ranged from beautifully made up women wearing the hijab, to xanims in their conglamoration of “best” dresses, falling down polka dot socks and broken down keds slip ons.

The party got into full swing as the groom’s family danced in carrying huge colorfully packed baskets over their heads. These baskets held everything from sweets to brushes and shampoo for the bride to be. They are supposed to have what she needs in the time before the wedding.

Soon the bride and groom walked stiffly into the tent. I’m sure they were nervous, since this was not only their engagement party, but also probably their first date. They had seen each other from a distance. She wore a tight red dress that burst into tiers of red ruffles at the hipline. Her hair had been piled so high and her make up done so precisely she would have done Barbie proud.

Their entrance was followed by the traditional feast. I’m learning not to eat too much at the beginning, because just when I think I’ve had enough some of my favorite courses arrive, including the kebabs.

There were some traditional rituals such as the bride and groom placing rings on each other’s fingers. The groom’s family buys the rings, presenting them and more gold to the bride at this ceremony.

Then there was the dancing, that went on and on and on. A man with a piece of red fabric tied onto his arm beckoned dancers onto the “floor” that was really a space in the dirt between the tables. Periodically someone would sprinkle water on it to keep the dust down. Things heated up fast with all the dancing on a muggy afternoon so a “wall” of the tent was peeled away to make more room and let the fresh air in.

Just about anything passes for dancing here, if you at least try to imitate the traditional style. I was doing my best trying to look like I knew what I was doing. A short plump woman,with the usual gold toothed smile decided she would be my partner. (women dance with women, the men dance together, but men and women don’t usually dance in the same circle.) I don’t know if she liked my style or thought I needed a teacher but she wouldn’t let me off the dance floor. It was fun or a couple of hours until I decided I’d had enough. She wouldn’t give up ,and became my tormentor, insisting we dance, while I was ready to go home.

After about 6 hours, I really was ready to call it quits. But the party was going strong with no sign of ending. Finally, after the bride and groom had fed each other pieces of cake, we piled into one of Gulsabeh’s relatives cars and headed back to the city.

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Azerbaijan Dream it, Plan it, and Do it!

2012-05-17 14:44:00

Life as It Should Be

The recent GSA scandal not only causes the casualty of a few top executives, it also creates massive financial reporting nightmares to other Federal agencies. About a month ago, my organization received a letter from US Senator requesting a list of conference costs. Financial reporting is my expertise, I had no problem putting the data in the format that was requested, but the data was MASSIVE, more than 3,000 entries , so I worked very hard for a week, nearly as hard as I used to when I worked for the private sector.

Well, doing special project (like this Congressional Request) is always interesting. I have been with the Smithsonian only three months, but I learnt a lot, including some of the BIG words, such as Curator, Philanthropy, Symposium, Synchrotron and Anthropological; words that I never ever used before. Now I can talk like a Professor, a Scientist, an educator, or even Dr. Chan…..:-)

I like my job, I like my organization. It is a privilege to work for the Smithsonian. The work is not difficult at all. Sometimes, I do feel bored working for the Federal Government. I missed the dynamic environment in the private sector, the board room drama, the everlasting challenges of my brain, the accomplishments, and of course, the BIG FAT bonus at the end. All those things made me feel important, productive, smart and proud. Not everyone can handle the pressure I used to deal with everyday….but at the end, I could not deal with it any longer.

At this stage of my life, I want to spend more time doing things I enjoy. Working 40 hours a week is enough. I am off this Friday, plan to visit some museums, maybe go to Mt. Vernon, visit George Washington Estate, maybe take a long walk along the river, maybe visit my friends in NY, or maybe doing nothing at all……

Dedicated to the Ones I Love

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Azerbaijan These Boots are made for Hiking

2012-05-17 12:29:00

Happy Haystack in Virginia

I struggle with so much here, the environment, the language, the culture to name a few. But if I did not have my family and friends with their love, packages and skyping, I probably would have thrown in the towel and given up a long time ago!! Do I really need all this frustration, I am just too old for this. But with all the support (and packages), I am on my 8th month in Azerbaijan and I am still here (go figure). I think God is thinking that one too!! The earthquakes are still shaking this place and I just can't wait for the next challenge that God is sending to me!! I wanted to let you ALL know that I value you and all of your love and kindness from the bottom of my heart. When I was cold, you sent me gloves, hats and thermals and chocolate. When I was hungry and sad, you sent me soup mix, Cheetos, chex mix, tuna and chocolate. When I needed schools supplies for my conversation club, you sent me white boards, markers, crayons, color pencils, flash cards, an art project and chocolate. And when I needed prayers, you all prayed really hard (and sent me chocolate). We SKYPE, we e-mail, we face book, we chat, you haven't forgotten me. Life is a journey and without family or friends (and chocolate) it can be a lonely one. Thank you for being my family and friends. I love you all with all my heart and I thank God every day that I am bless by you. Please send chocolate!!

Life Challenge: The most I can do for my friend is simply be his friend... Henry David Thoreau

The House Hunt...

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Azerbaijan Liz's Life in Azerbaijan

2012-05-17 08:26:00

The House Hunt Update

Below is the chronicle of my house hunt odyssey, which took way too much of my time and energy as I struggled to find a place that met Peace Corps standards, and would be covered by the PC housing allowance for Sirvan. I did finally manage to find a place that fit the first criteria, but was well over the second. Along the way, I saw the good, the bad, and the ugly.

The first place I saw was one room, packed with furniture, but no table and chairs. I would have to sink into one of the bottomless armchairs, plate in hand if I wanted to eat. It did have an air conditioner. Asking price, 150 manat.

When I turned it down the owner offered to show me another apartment. It was two rooms, closer to the college, but one room looked as if there had been an explosion inside, with the paint and pieces of debris hanging off a whole wall. One room appeared to have black mold on all the walls. The light bulb in one room was hanging on a cord, and in the second room, there was no light at all! I took one look at the bathroom, but I couldn’t check it out a second time because there was no handle or doorknob so I couldn’t go into the bathroom.. This place was filthy, you couldn’t open the bathroom door, it had no furniture, no screens, and had a whole wall of debris coming down. Asking price, 130 manat.

The next place had two rooms, but no furniture. The bathroom wall was coming down, and there was a shovel full of cement debris that had recently given way. I thought about taking this place and trying to negotiate the price , but the owner decided to sell it instead. Asking price to rent 150 manat.

When I stopped in at a shoemaker’s shack to get some new holes put in my belt (the house hunt is good for something!) , he told me he had a house to rent. I followed him way out into the country houses, farther from the college than I live now. I found a cement building with no running water inside, and a shared toilet out in the yard. The building shared the yard with another house and the whole place was littered with everyone’s stuff. Asking price 150 AZN.

A shop assistant also offered to rent me a country house. Although she said it wasn’t far from the college, I should have been suspicious when it took at least 10 minutes in a taxi to get there. It was in no way walking distance to the college. There was a one room building in an overgrown yard, no furniture, with the toilet outside. Asking price, 150 AZN.

Saturday a friend Leman and I started going building to building looking. We found one apartment with two rooms, paint intact, furnished, close to the college, even air conditioned. In other words, perfect. This was the apartment I wanted. Asking price, 150 AZN. Haggling with the landlord in Baku didn’t help, and I had to walk away because the price was too high. When I went back 2 days later, it had already been rented.

Sunday, Leman and I went hunting again, and this time it was painful. There were few people around to ask, and no real good leads. We eventually found a three room apartment, with a channel for the wastewater from the sink winding its way through the house. There was no refrigerator, no heat source, and no sink in the bathroom, but it was otherwise furnished. Asking price 150 AZN . I thought maybe I could make it work, but the landlord refused to come down in price or supply a refrigerator, so I had to walk way again.

We also found a bare bones one room apartment, that had most everything except a skaf for clothes or anything else. Books, clothes, papers etc would be piled up or strewn around the one room. There was a lumpy dusty stuffed monkey hanging in the corner and I knew I would end up in the same condition as the monkey if said yes to this place. Asking price 100 AZN.

Teachers at the college helped me look at two places this week. One, was a “country house” that was really one room in a bungalow. The bathroom and the kitchen were shared with students, and they were in separate buildings. Asking price for this one room 150 AZN.

The second was in a great location, and the owner was such a kind and generous person. The apartment was in good condition, but so small it didn’t have a chair or sofa to sit on. It was either sit at the dining table or in bed. There was no place to put a comfortable chair, or anything else. I don’t think there was enough space even to unroll a sleeping bag and there was no running water or sink in the kitchen. All dishes and fruit and vegetables had to be washed in the bathroom next to the toilet. 130 AZN.

Finally going to visit my site mate, I saw some people moving out of her building. I immediately asked for the landlord’s phone number, and Konul, my tutor helped me make contact the next day. The empty apartment had three rooms, in “normal” for Azerbaijan condition,, asking price 150 AZN.

I spent another day going building to building, with no success. I decided to try negotiating for the last place I saw. The landlady agreed to come down 10 AZN, so now I have to pay 140 a month, while Peace Corps only gives us 120. The other 20 will have to come out of my living allowance which will limit what else I can do here. My site mates all have to pay 130, but Peace Corps has been sticking to the 120 figure.

Simply Wonderful

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Azerbaijan AzerbyJake

2012-05-16 17:29:00

Sometimes, things just go well. There’s no explanation, you just feel on top of the world, no matter what happens. This week’s been one of those weeks. Despite the crazy electrical storms every night and the constant earthquakes (5.6 on the Richter scale) every morning, I’ve got a constant smile on my face, right now.

There’s currently an essay contest being held by the American Embassy. It’s for students throughout the regions of Azerbaijan. Samira, a constant mention in this blog, submitted her essay. It is one of the more extraordinary essays I’ve ever read, not even considering the fact that she is only 15 and English is not her first OR second language. I just had to share it, but did not change it whatsoever! Enjoy!

My dream is…

First I want to meet you with some people.

Hatma – 15 years old. Lives in Turkey. She loves watching students going to school. But she can’t study. Because she has a wedding next month. But she doesn’t know who will be her husband. The only thing that she knows about him, that he is the friend of her father, 62 years old…

Cavid – 5 years old. Azberbaijanian. Lives in orphanage. His parents left him when he was 3 years old. From that day Cavid spends all his free time in front of the window. “Maybe my parents will come to take me, but they won’t see me and go back…”

Asad – 21 years old. Her mother had a big health problem. Her kidneys had to be changed or she could die. Asad asked many organizations for help. But nobody helped. Asad didn’t want to lose the only person in his life and stole money. He’s in the prison now. But he isn’t regret. Because he knows that his mother is alive. And that’s enough for him…

Aisha – 7 years old. Lives in Afganistan. Everyday she wakes up to the voice of guns. Everyday she feels fear, everyday she cries. And everyday she thinks, “how the people living in the peaceful country are happy!!!”

Bakir – 67 years old. He lived all his life for his children. His wife died when she was 41. Bakir was a worker. All day he carried heavy stones in his back. But he never left his children hungry. But now he is in a rest home. Because his children don’t want an old and weak man in their house…

Almaz – 6 years old. Everyday gets “2” from lessons. But the teachers don’t know the reason why she doesn’t study. Her drunk father everynight beats her mother. And Almaz is tired of pretending like she’s sleeping while her mom cries secretly all night. Because of this Almaz --- 6 years old girl has psychology problems…

Yes, maybe they are just my characters, but I’m sure that there’re many people like them. And my dream is just to see them happy. I don’t want any high buildings, worldwide song contests, big concert halls…I just wanna see smiles on their face. I want to be sure that there’s no helpless people when I’m happy. This is my dream!!!

It Adds Up

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Azerbaijan Corping the Peace in Azerbaijan

2012-05-16 12:34:00

Today, while I was walking to an event for our organization, a car followed me (almost) the entire way. As I walked, he pulled up beside me, parked and began to yell to me. As I continued to walk, he continued his ~~wooing~~ stalking; pulling up, parking behind cars and yelling as I walked along the sidewalk. When the sidewalk ended, I began to walk into a store parking lot, but he pulled in front of the sidewalk, blocking my way. I walked behind his car, remained stone faced and retained my pace. He backed out of the parking lot and went to the other side, trying the same tactic, blocking the sidewalk on the other side. Again, I walked around his car and ~~shattered his windshield with the baseball bat I carry~~ continued onward to my destination. Eventually, he moved along, most likely to stalk some other unsuspecting gazelle.

The story I'm sharing with you is not uncommon, not for me, nor my fellow female AZPCVs. It is my greatest cause of stress in Azerbaijan. I remember in my first months at site how scary I found these events and now I just find them common place, irritating and anger inducing (although the general anxiety that comes with people stalking you is still there).

With warmer weather now finding its way to Azerbaijan, the incidences of harassment are (much) higher. Recently, while I was walking with one of my students (and friend), a car pulled up in front of us, blocking the sidewalk. The driver then began calling out to me in Russian. We ignored them and walked on. I've had cars follow me all the way from work to my apartment block. I've had boys follow and speak rudely behind me while I walked with a group of girls. Two weeks ago I was walking with my American friend when a man came up and put his arm around her. She looked stricken, I was just angry. I physically removed his hand off her and told him to leave NOW. He seemed amused, took his hand off her, but then continued to follow us. We crossed the street, he crossed the street. We turned right, he turned right. Etc. Etc. Etc. I think I could have, for the first time in my life, hit someone.

I have had boys follow me for so long, that in order to get rid of them I had to fake a phone call to my dear (male) friend and counterpart (this works incredibly well for walker-stalkers, not as well for guys in cars). I always have the option of actually calling him, but I try to only call him in extreme cases.

The ongoing harassment is exhausting and I can feel the anger accumulating. It's a low, but steady stream of annoyance that's building to become something bigger. I'm not an angry person. Really. I get irritated with people, but I voice my dismay/annoyance and then I'm over it; a flash in the pan really. I've never "seen red" and am sometimes taken aback by extreme anger. This is a whole different experience. There's just no real solution. I know I will not see the end of this behavior before my service is complete. One of my fellow sitemates had a male student tell her he must always walk with her. Yes, the solution is to always have a male with me. You know, just give up a little more of my freedom and independence and always have a dude with me. That seems ~~like the most awful idea ever~~ viable.

The thing is, the best reaction to these types of events (as long as they aren't severe or physically threatening) is to ignore them. Any response is taken as a sort of indicator that you're interested,. But it adds up. The continued stress, annoyance, anger, irritation, it doesn't leave right away and the next day when you're still reeling from the day before, you leave your house and again experience this type of interaction. And the day after that. The same. And the day after. The same. Rinse. Repeat. And bit by bit, it weighs on you. I can sense it some days when I'm short with someone for no reason and it's typically after an exchange of this nature. The anger can be misdirected. I keep it pretty well in check, but sometimes it seeps out and creeps into a place it doesn't belong.

Don't get me wrong. I do things to alleviate stress. I run. I write. I color. I take a day for myself and hide out in my apartment to read a book and drink coffee, but there are some months where there isn't enough time to unwind and those seem to be when instances of harassment are rampant. It adds up.

I love my service and I have great work, students and friends. By far my service is a positive one. If you're looking for me, I can usually be found making a lame joke with a dumb grin on my face, but I have bad days here too. And when I don't have the time to take a minute, it's difficult get my head health back to where it needs to be (and it can get a little nutty inside this messy mind of mine).

I suppose the key, if there is one, is awareness. I'm aware of how I'm feeling and its cause and although I have virtually no control over these interactions, it's important to be aware of how I'm feeling and why I'm feeling that way. When I'm feeling just a little nutty (like today for example), I can try to take a moment to pause and figure out where my head is at.

Peace Corps was bound to present me with challenges and this is, by far, my greatest.

He said "Don't be so negative! "

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Azerbaijan ONE DREAM AT A TIME

2012-05-15 15:33:00

When my boyfriend came here I was super excited and nervous. I knew what I had experienced and wasn't sure what he would experience. I recall giving him some basics like: people are going to stare. just keep moving. The kids--they will say hello. Sometimes they will shout it. You are welcome to say hello back but try to say salam instead. A hand over the chest is a sign of respect. Eat the bread and other cultural tips.

But that didn't happen on the good foot as much as I wanted it to. Soon as he got here we had a couple of issues. When Thomas got off the plane I saw him at the carousel to collect his luggage. I decide to take a seat and wait for him. After a number of people came out through customs, but Thomas didn't-immediately I thought the worst. They must have detained him for something. Maybe something was wrong with his visa and they have to ask him a few questions. Damn Azeri's on that bureaucratic bullshit. Here we go! I went back to the doors to see if I could see him again and he was gone. I called my security officer for help and learned that Thomas was in the back filling out paper work-the protocol for lost luggage.

I don't know why I panicked but I did.

When we got to Shirvan I had only prepped him just enough for the taxi ride into town. I made sure to give him a couple of words because I knew that the taxi driver would speak to him first before speaking to me. But Thomas couldn't recall much of the language I had taught him so the taxi driver proceeded to deal with me solely off language capabilities. However another passenger quickly caught on to the circumstance and knew that while I could understand what was being said-Thomas wouldn't. The male passenger hit on me in-front of Thomas and with Thomas being helpless in language we decided to take a different cab.

Those became the stand out first impressions that Thomas received and all I did was make it worse.

I went on and on about certain situations, life, what I deal with that seems to stress me out and to make matters worse I asked others to join with me. It was a terrible-terrible mistake. I hadn't shed much light on the good things that happened to me and it only seemed that soon as something good happened, immediately afterwards I was rubbed the wrong way by something that didn't feel so good. I carried it with me too.If anything negative occured at 5:00pm on Tuesday, I was still brooding over it 36 hours later. We would sit down to eat dinner, head off to sleep and I would wake up and say : I don't want to go out there. He would say : Why? What's the problem? Show me your town. Show me some people. I would clam up and get scared. Worried that someone was going to pass us and shout something derogatory or fall out laughing or stare 4 minutes too long.

So we ran back and forth to Baku and over cups of coffee I would utter things like "These people..." or " See what I'm saying..." or "Please don't do that...because...won't understand." And it was all negative. ALL of it. When I called myself trying to say something positive, I would ice it up with something condescending. Then Thomas would ask about specific people like Peace Corps employees or my host family and would want to know if I felt the same towards them. My reply would be-Absolutely not. Those people are different. What I didn't realize I was doing was essentially talking about the same people. It's like someone expressing a depressing generalization about African Americans and then they will say -EXCEPT THAT ONE!

There is no EXCEPT THAT ONE. If you feel poorly about one, you will likely feel poorly about them all.

Towards the end of our trip, I interviewed Thomas. Going back over the interview I was shocked at how much my personal experiences influenced his opinion. Now mind you-we ran back and forth to Baku for roughly 1/3 of the time he was here. 2/3rds of the time we spent coupled up in my house and finished off our time with 1 night in Gence as we headed to Tbilisi Georgia. If he experienced Azerbaijan, he experienced what I told him. Now yes..we did have dinner with my host family and that was fun. I did take him to the bazaar and that was truly hilarious. The post office crew was great and he was well received at Peace Corps Headquarters.

But he didn't experience Azerbaijan and out of pure concern of what he might go through, I sheltered him and filled his head with nightmarish tales-giving only one side of the story. Which by the way-all of those stories were true. It's just I shared them too much too often.

The last night before leaving, he sat me down and told me that I was being too negative of a person and that much of what I was experiencing was a product of my own attitude. He had observed me hesitate and operate in fear triggered by either my own imagination of what could possibly happen but may not or by something that had happened in the past that I took personally and wasn't able to let go.

I told him that the things I experienced were very real and I had a right to deal with them as I pleased.

He said that I chose to be a certain way.

I said Azerbaijan makes me a certain way.

He said if I spent more time talking about the older woman that kissed me and asked me how I was doing versus talking about some cowardliness behavior, I would feel better.

I said I am only talking about what happens that feels piercingly disrespectful, that boggle my mind and sometimes hurt my feelings.

He said don't waste your energy. It's not helping you. Don't be so negative!

I said nothing.

So that's my personal goal for the next however many more days. To let go of whatever that has happened and recharge my attitude. To take a break from blogging because it's not my intention to offend anyone and I'm worried that the few who are reading this will feel turned off by Azerbaijan and that's honestly not very fair of me.
I'm worried that while I hate feeling discriminated against, I am perpetuating that same behavior just by what I share with people and the generalizations I come to conclude.

Thomas has gone home now and those were my favorite last words. Don't be so negative.

To jump-start this process, I'm going to watch The Secret!

Thank you for reading. Check back soon for something positive.

P.S. While blogs are a depiction of our own understandings and feelings, it is up to the writer to be cognitive of who may be reading. I have flown under the radar in terms of offending anyone in my blog (or so I like to believe) but I'm becoming increasingly aware and even more sensitive to the things that I say and how they may make someone feel. For the record, no one has charged me for what has been written in my blog. This is a move out of self conviction. The minute I can put a halt to my thoughts, then my words will shift as well.

Frisbee and a hijab. Two items that can’t coexist?

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Azerbaijan Where the East meets the West

2012-05-15 14:02:34

Tuesday is club day. Since Novruz I’ve started focusing my attention on this group of awesome and ambitious 8th form girls who always show up on club day and always want to do whatever activities I have come up with … Continue reading →

Shake, Rattle, Row and Ollie - HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Azerbaijan These Boots are made for Hiking

2012-05-15 11:31:00

Ollie In his favorite Box

Ollie on His favorite couch

For those of you who don't know, Ollie was my rescue cat that I had for twelve years and I had to give him up when I went into the Peace Corps. My niece and nephew took him in, in an emergency when a "friend" decided at the last minute she didn't want him (just look at the face, who could resist!). God placed him in the right home as my niece, nephew, grand niece and nephew love him with all their heart. He is just thriving in that love and he has to tolerate two dogs, several horses and even another cat. My niece grooms him as he does not clean himself and he gets a lot of hair mattes, she is a saint (thank you Janette!!). And my grand nephew Will takes him to bed with him every night. My Ollie is so lucky to be picked by such a wonderful family (Thank you again...Love to you all)...

Now back to Azerbaijan, this region has had continuous earthquakes for over a week now, not like the first day shakes of 5.5 and 5.4 but hard enough that the people here are still scared (or some like grandpa just smiles and shakes his head refusing to ran out the door). We are also experiencing thunder and lightening and heavy rains (mostly at night) as during the day it gets up to about 70 degrees. The Education Ministry has decided that schools in this region will not open until the fall. Teachers are going to school and are working outside just to do the paperwork, only 10th & 11th forms are there and they sit outside (doing nothing). I still have my bandanna art project for my Kid's Klub. So I've talked with my co teacher and we decided we will do it next week. She will let all the students know and hopefully we can get the students from the other schools to come as well.

May is half way over and I will be hopefully moving into my new permanent place at the end of the month, working on kids camps in other regions with PCV's and going on vacation to Georgia and Turkey. And most of all enjoying the warmth of summer.

Life Challenge: Cats are Intended to teach us that not everything in nature has a purpose...Garfield or was that Goofy!