On Being the Youngest

I looked to this past weekend with a bit of dread. I was going to be the younger sibling in my host family, something I am unused to. My host parents, Parviz and Meleyke, have two kids of their own, Seymur and Orxan, and have also hosted two previous volunteers. The first of those volunteers was part of the first group of Peace Corps volunteers in Azerbaijan, and is basically the favorite daughter of Ismayilli. Both Seymur and Amy would be coming to visit this weekend.

Visitors in general I’m not fond of here, where visitors often stop by without warning and stay longer than I understand. I know visiting families and being visited by others in the community are things that I will have to get used to, I’ll just have to get used to a different kind of personal boundary and space. In this case of visitors, they are people that are more familiar with the family and the rules and ways of the house. They will mess with the order and schedule I’ve gotten used to (it was nice after training to start to settle into a routine and even though it’ll get messed up next week with conversation clubs and Christmas, it’s still a routine), I thought.

I really shouldn’t have worried. Besides a few awkward moments here and there, it was really a pleasure to have them home, and those awkward moments were not their faults of course, but mine. Sitting down for dinner Saturday night, I was told quickly that the seat I had been told to sit in for the past week was now my host father’s and I should abdicate post haste.

Both Amy and Seymur speak English, I discovered (Amy it wasn’t a surprise, of course), and even though my host father speaks some English as well, having Amy there, who has now spent some five years in Azerbaijan, did wonders for the breadth of conversation topics. She was also full of information about places and people in Ismayilli and nearby areas for hiking and exploring. The mountains that rise up outside of town have been calling to me, and now I know how to get to them. Victory! Yukon Ho!