It’s easy, once one develops a routine, to forget the ways that two cultures are different. It becomes easy to get lost in the way things are and forget how different things are. Every now and then, though, I have moments where I have to stop and remember that people here really are from a different cultural background. I had one of those moments while my family was here.
(Granted, it's very easy also to get bogged down in the little, frustrating differences that get in the way of projects and daily life, but that's a subject for another blog.)
Back-story: my host family has been buying baby chicks for awhile this spring, in order to raise them for eggs and meat for the fall and winter. Eggs and meat are both expensive here in Ismayilli, and prices have risen considerably even in the short time I’ve been here.
The day that my family decided to go to Lahic, my host mother complained about how their dog would eat the eggs and the cat would attack and kill the chicks. She talked about taking the animals to Lahic. I thought she was joking. But when the taxi came, my host father brought around the dog and my host mother carried the cat. Both were placed in burlap sacks and put in the trunk. They explained to the driver, and to me, that they animals were to be released near villages along the road. They reassured me that the animals would be okay, and would get food.
Of course, the sight of animals in sacks was a bit shocking. But this is where the different cultures realization kicked in. And these moments are what Peace Corps is about. It’s not just about finding and building on the similarities between cultures but also sharing and accepting the differences.
It is strange to most of the world the way we treat animals. To many Americans, they are part of the family. But to many cultures, animals, even pets, are just animals. To my host family, the dog and cat were interfering and threatening their livelihood. They need the chickens to survive the winter, to afford food. If they’re being killed and eaten, the offending animals are threats. Bozdar was always kept on a short leash, and was pretty miserable, so really, being let free is for the best. Both animals were released near villages, so they’ll be able to find food and possibly new homes.
It is easy to get caught up in the initial response, that what my host parents did was wrong and cruel. And then rationality and anthropology kick in. They made their decision carefully, and for reasons that made sense to them. They had to do what they had to do. They do indeed come from a different cultural background. They are Azeri. That’s not necessarily righter or wronger than being from America; that’s the way they are.
Friday, June 24, 2011
The Storeys Visit Oz-erbaijan Part 3: Istanbul
Without the trip to Istanbul, having my parents visit and leave so quickly would have been pretty tough. But the trip gave us more time together, time during which I could relax and recharge after the week of translating and organizing everything. In Istanbul, I left the planning to my family, while I played lots of Angry Birds.
Our hotel was just about next door to the Blue Mosque (Sultanahmet Mosque), with a rooftop terrace that also allowed us to see the roof of Hagia Sophia peeking over the neighbr’s roof. Seeing these monumental buildings so close was almost like seeing the Taj Mahal in person, having to suppress a feeling of disbelief that such things are real. Hagia Sophia is 1,500 years old. That’s almost incomprehensible. It’s been a church, a mosque, and is now a museum.
Istanbul is more of a crossroads than Baku, and people there are more accustomed to foreigners. There were tourists everywhere, from huge tour buses from cruise ships to backpackers staying at hostels and everything in between. I heard French, Spanish, Korean, Japanese, Chinese, German, Turkish, and English. Store vendors would call to people to come to their shops, which quickly became tiring, but would result in some pretty funny comments. “You look like a potential carpet buyer.” And when turned down: “You break my heart. But I still love you!”
On Tuesday my family left, and I waved them off as the taxi pulled away. I was sad for them to leave of course, but had planned a long night of enjoying high speed Internet, Mexican food, and hot showers. But when I returned from dinner, the power had gone out in our block. “Only one hour,” the guy at the desk said. But it never came back. I ended up with a candle in my room that night and had to pack by crawling around on all fours to make sure I had everything that morning.
Travel was chaos throughout the trip. On the way to Istanbul, we hit a snag when it turned out the travel company my dad used booked me a week ahead of our actual flight date. We also discovered that when I booked my return flight, I had booked it for a month too late. So when I got to the Istanbul airport to fly back to Baku, I had to pay a penalty to move the flight reservation. To get back to Ismayilli, I had to take a bus from the airport to the metro station, and take the metro to a location near Peace Corps’ office and walk to the office (I decided against the two bus option). From there I had to take a city bus to the bus station, and a minibus back to Ismayilli. But now I’m back. I start up clubs again, hiking and playing baseball, and hopefully a few others in the pipeline.
Our hotel was just about next door to the Blue Mosque (Sultanahmet Mosque), with a rooftop terrace that also allowed us to see the roof of Hagia Sophia peeking over the neighbr’s roof. Seeing these monumental buildings so close was almost like seeing the Taj Mahal in person, having to suppress a feeling of disbelief that such things are real. Hagia Sophia is 1,500 years old. That’s almost incomprehensible. It’s been a church, a mosque, and is now a museum.
Istanbul is more of a crossroads than Baku, and people there are more accustomed to foreigners. There were tourists everywhere, from huge tour buses from cruise ships to backpackers staying at hostels and everything in between. I heard French, Spanish, Korean, Japanese, Chinese, German, Turkish, and English. Store vendors would call to people to come to their shops, which quickly became tiring, but would result in some pretty funny comments. “You look like a potential carpet buyer.” And when turned down: “You break my heart. But I still love you!”
On Tuesday my family left, and I waved them off as the taxi pulled away. I was sad for them to leave of course, but had planned a long night of enjoying high speed Internet, Mexican food, and hot showers. But when I returned from dinner, the power had gone out in our block. “Only one hour,” the guy at the desk said. But it never came back. I ended up with a candle in my room that night and had to pack by crawling around on all fours to make sure I had everything that morning.
Travel was chaos throughout the trip. On the way to Istanbul, we hit a snag when it turned out the travel company my dad used booked me a week ahead of our actual flight date. We also discovered that when I booked my return flight, I had booked it for a month too late. So when I got to the Istanbul airport to fly back to Baku, I had to pay a penalty to move the flight reservation. To get back to Ismayilli, I had to take a bus from the airport to the metro station, and take the metro to a location near Peace Corps’ office and walk to the office (I decided against the two bus option). From there I had to take a city bus to the bus station, and a minibus back to Ismayilli. But now I’m back. I start up clubs again, hiking and playing baseball, and hopefully a few others in the pipeline.
The Storeys Visit Oz-erbaijan Part 2: Ismayilli, Lahic, Sheki
Visiting my host family was the most nerve-wracking part of the trip. I wasn’t so much worried about how the two families would get on, but more about what we’d do and how much talking I’d have to do. The trip turned out to be both exhausting and exhilarating, proof for myself that my language was better than I often give myself credit for.
The first day was probably the busiest in terms of translating, and it wasn’t till we got to Istanbul that my mind really got to rest. Some brief respites came with visits from my sitemates, who helped give a tour of Ismayilli, and a neighbor English teacher. Still, my families had a lot to say to one another, and basically only me to do the saying. My host father has some English, and he quickly dubbed my sister Santa Elena, and gave her a nice book of traditional Azeri designs, writing a sweet dedication on the front page. My host mother welcomed us with a great lunch of plov and fresh veggies from the garden she had made for the occasion.
The next day we spent in Ismayilli, visiting my school and attending some of the clubs I do. My main counterpart, Humay, met us at the school, though it turned out the school director was in Baku. We joined my students for our hiking club, walking out to the big park and visiting the history museum there (where they have a real chunk of meteorite!) and Ismayilli’s Heydar Aliyev Museum. It was really fun for me to see how my students acted in these museums, truly rapt with attention, absorbing intently everything they saw.
During the day we had our big meal of the visit—sheep kebab. The reason this was a big deal was because it meant buying a sheep for the meal. And then having it killed, skinned, cut up, and then cooked on the grill. My family elected not to be present for most of this, so I had to be the messenger, running back and forth between host family and butcher and American family. When it came time to eat though, they were there.
That evening we went to baseball practice, which I run with my sitemate, Allie. It was so nice to have a couple other people giving the kids attention and encouragement. Once we’ve got enough equipment—which I’ve been told has finally arrived—we should really start having a lot of fun.
And so we come to the travel portion of my family’s visit. On Wednesday we went to Lahij, a small mountain town, and Thursday we went to Sheki, a larger historical town.
The night before Lahij, it had rained heavily, so we were worried that the road washed away. This is not an exaggeration. Well, the road was still there, so we went. Sheki was an easier, albeit longer, drive. Amusingly, the road to Sheki is good until you hit Qabala, where the president is rumored to have a home, and afterwards, the road gets bumpier and the light posts disappear. A might suspicious, methinks.
These two days made for fun days of exploration, not just for my family, but also for me. This was my first time in Sheki, and I got to play tour guide in Lahij.
The final night in Ismayilli, my host mother cooked some wonderful dolma, of the sort that is stuffed peppers, tomatoes, and eggplant. We were called away to meet my school director at the central park, but when we got back, we spent a while talking with my family, a nice, relaxing end to the trip. Sitting outside in the garden, amongst the flowers, under the stars.
The next morning we said a sweet goodbye. My host mother threw a glassful of water after our taxi (just the water, not the glass) as a sign of good luck.
I never doubted that my family would want to visit, and I have been fortunate that I have known they love me and are proud of me. I know that if I had chosen to do something besides Peace Corps, they would still have been proud of me. But their visit meant a lot to me, and having them see my clubs, school, and community was refreshing and encouraging.
The first day was probably the busiest in terms of translating, and it wasn’t till we got to Istanbul that my mind really got to rest. Some brief respites came with visits from my sitemates, who helped give a tour of Ismayilli, and a neighbor English teacher. Still, my families had a lot to say to one another, and basically only me to do the saying. My host father has some English, and he quickly dubbed my sister Santa Elena, and gave her a nice book of traditional Azeri designs, writing a sweet dedication on the front page. My host mother welcomed us with a great lunch of plov and fresh veggies from the garden she had made for the occasion.
The next day we spent in Ismayilli, visiting my school and attending some of the clubs I do. My main counterpart, Humay, met us at the school, though it turned out the school director was in Baku. We joined my students for our hiking club, walking out to the big park and visiting the history museum there (where they have a real chunk of meteorite!) and Ismayilli’s Heydar Aliyev Museum. It was really fun for me to see how my students acted in these museums, truly rapt with attention, absorbing intently everything they saw.
During the day we had our big meal of the visit—sheep kebab. The reason this was a big deal was because it meant buying a sheep for the meal. And then having it killed, skinned, cut up, and then cooked on the grill. My family elected not to be present for most of this, so I had to be the messenger, running back and forth between host family and butcher and American family. When it came time to eat though, they were there.
That evening we went to baseball practice, which I run with my sitemate, Allie. It was so nice to have a couple other people giving the kids attention and encouragement. Once we’ve got enough equipment—which I’ve been told has finally arrived—we should really start having a lot of fun.
And so we come to the travel portion of my family’s visit. On Wednesday we went to Lahij, a small mountain town, and Thursday we went to Sheki, a larger historical town.
The night before Lahij, it had rained heavily, so we were worried that the road washed away. This is not an exaggeration. Well, the road was still there, so we went. Sheki was an easier, albeit longer, drive. Amusingly, the road to Sheki is good until you hit Qabala, where the president is rumored to have a home, and afterwards, the road gets bumpier and the light posts disappear. A might suspicious, methinks.
These two days made for fun days of exploration, not just for my family, but also for me. This was my first time in Sheki, and I got to play tour guide in Lahij.
The final night in Ismayilli, my host mother cooked some wonderful dolma, of the sort that is stuffed peppers, tomatoes, and eggplant. We were called away to meet my school director at the central park, but when we got back, we spent a while talking with my family, a nice, relaxing end to the trip. Sitting outside in the garden, amongst the flowers, under the stars.
The next morning we said a sweet goodbye. My host mother threw a glassful of water after our taxi (just the water, not the glass) as a sign of good luck.
I never doubted that my family would want to visit, and I have been fortunate that I have known they love me and are proud of me. I know that if I had chosen to do something besides Peace Corps, they would still have been proud of me. But their visit meant a lot to me, and having them see my clubs, school, and community was refreshing and encouraging.
The Storeys Visit Oz-erbaijan Part 1: Baku
I’m back at site after what feels like forever and nothing. My family came for a week and then we went to Istanbul for five days. The experience of wandering the old section of Istanbul, of standing in front of the Hagia Sophia, and the long journey back, make it feel like I haven’t been to Ismayilli in months. At the same time, though, it feels as if I never left, and my family’s visit and our time in Istanbul are part of a long night’s sleep from which I have just woke from. But I have the memories, and more assuredly, the photos we took and the shirt I bought while there. I have food that my family brought in a suitcase filled to the brim. So they must have visited and we must have gone to Istanbul.
Before I could see my family, I had to wait through a two-day counterpart conference for the YDs. Now, that feels like it was ages ago. I can complain a lot about what we cover in these conferences is just repeating what we’ve heard and talked about (sometimes ad naeuseum), but after these conferences, I do always walk away with a renewed motivation for projects I could do. I enjoy hearing what others are doing, and thinking about how those projects could be done at my site. Some, I have brought to Ismayilli, some I’ll have to wait to do when school starts back up (I am now without an organization since the school is locked at the end of the month). I was also happy with how my counterpart reacted and understood the conference. She’s an older teacher, but probably the best English teacher in the rayon, and has known a number of volunteers over the years. Maybe not the best choice in regards to sustainability, but someone who I knew would understand and appreciate the ideas from the conference.
So I made it through the conference, and the morning came to meet my parents and sister. I took my bag to our hotel—early, as it turns out, and was unable to check in. Definitely flustered the kid at the desk, who told me he was new. Sorry, kiddo. Then I took the subway to the station nearest the airport, and went in search of a bus. The bus I found that said it went to the airport ended up stopping at the end of the long road to the airport, and I was forced to cross the highway, hopping the meridian on the way, and walk the rest of the way. The security at the airport had no problem with this. A couple funny stares, but that was it. I brought a book with me, which came in handy. I had a minor freak out at the beginning because my family’s flight wasn’t on the Big Board. The only flight from Istanbul was in five hours. “I’m going to need another book,” I thought, before realizing that there were two waiting areas for flights, and I had to go next door. It still felt like an interminable wait, but finally, they emerged from customs.
We checked to make sure we were real, got some money changed, and I got to show off my dazzling Azeri haggling over a taxi. They were satisfactorily impressed with Baku’s construction as we went, and immediately loved to Old City (Icheri Sheher) architecture. After being allowed to check in, freshening up, and checking out the Suitcase of Wonder (complete with New Yorkers, honey, Pop-Tarts, and Frosted Mini-Wheats—it’s really all about the food), we headed out to wander around the city. By that I mean, we went to get gelato, with a tour of the city on the way. For dinner that night, we met with my younger host brother, Orxan, and went to the Karavansari, a restaurant in one of the old centers where traveling caravans would stay. There was even traditional music and a man who stood on swords and nails and spat fire (not so traditional).
The next day we climbed the Maiden’s Tower and visited the Peace Corps office, where my family got to meet a bunch of volunteers. My parents enjoyed comparing to the offices when they were volunteers. Amidst the tourist must sees and wanderings through the Old City area, we also got Lebanese food and more gelato. That night’s dinner was at a German restaurant called simply, The Brewery, which is Azerbaijan’s only microbrewery. My LCF, Rashad, joined us and lied his pants off saying nice things about me. Bless him.
That was our time in Baku. It was two days of wonderful eating. It reminded me a little of when they would visit during college, and we’d go out to eat at the nice places that I couldn’t afford. The next morning, thanks to help from my older host brother, Seymur, we were off to Ismayilli.
Before I could see my family, I had to wait through a two-day counterpart conference for the YDs. Now, that feels like it was ages ago. I can complain a lot about what we cover in these conferences is just repeating what we’ve heard and talked about (sometimes ad naeuseum), but after these conferences, I do always walk away with a renewed motivation for projects I could do. I enjoy hearing what others are doing, and thinking about how those projects could be done at my site. Some, I have brought to Ismayilli, some I’ll have to wait to do when school starts back up (I am now without an organization since the school is locked at the end of the month). I was also happy with how my counterpart reacted and understood the conference. She’s an older teacher, but probably the best English teacher in the rayon, and has known a number of volunteers over the years. Maybe not the best choice in regards to sustainability, but someone who I knew would understand and appreciate the ideas from the conference.
So I made it through the conference, and the morning came to meet my parents and sister. I took my bag to our hotel—early, as it turns out, and was unable to check in. Definitely flustered the kid at the desk, who told me he was new. Sorry, kiddo. Then I took the subway to the station nearest the airport, and went in search of a bus. The bus I found that said it went to the airport ended up stopping at the end of the long road to the airport, and I was forced to cross the highway, hopping the meridian on the way, and walk the rest of the way. The security at the airport had no problem with this. A couple funny stares, but that was it. I brought a book with me, which came in handy. I had a minor freak out at the beginning because my family’s flight wasn’t on the Big Board. The only flight from Istanbul was in five hours. “I’m going to need another book,” I thought, before realizing that there were two waiting areas for flights, and I had to go next door. It still felt like an interminable wait, but finally, they emerged from customs.
We checked to make sure we were real, got some money changed, and I got to show off my dazzling Azeri haggling over a taxi. They were satisfactorily impressed with Baku’s construction as we went, and immediately loved to Old City (Icheri Sheher) architecture. After being allowed to check in, freshening up, and checking out the Suitcase of Wonder (complete with New Yorkers, honey, Pop-Tarts, and Frosted Mini-Wheats—it’s really all about the food), we headed out to wander around the city. By that I mean, we went to get gelato, with a tour of the city on the way. For dinner that night, we met with my younger host brother, Orxan, and went to the Karavansari, a restaurant in one of the old centers where traveling caravans would stay. There was even traditional music and a man who stood on swords and nails and spat fire (not so traditional).
The next day we climbed the Maiden’s Tower and visited the Peace Corps office, where my family got to meet a bunch of volunteers. My parents enjoyed comparing to the offices when they were volunteers. Amidst the tourist must sees and wanderings through the Old City area, we also got Lebanese food and more gelato. That night’s dinner was at a German restaurant called simply, The Brewery, which is Azerbaijan’s only microbrewery. My LCF, Rashad, joined us and lied his pants off saying nice things about me. Bless him.
That was our time in Baku. It was two days of wonderful eating. It reminded me a little of when they would visit during college, and we’d go out to eat at the nice places that I couldn’t afford. The next morning, thanks to help from my older host brother, Seymur, we were off to Ismayilli.
What I've Learned So Far
School has ended! Cue the Alice Cooper. On top of that, I have now been at site for over six months. It must be reflection time! Not to get sentimental on you all, but here’s some of the things I’ve learned over the last six months of running conversation clubs and living and working in Ismayilli.
1. I need to plan lessons more. I think my classes have been well run for the most part, and the students who come have been enthusiastic, but there have been classes that have been pretty hectic over the last few months. Next fall I need to make myself build more constructive and involved lessons to really teach and strengthen my club lessons.
2. When I do English conversation clubs, I need to have smaller clubs. Part of why the clubs were so hectic was because there were too many kids. It would be a lot easier to get a smaller group of kids active.
3. Assemblies here are both wonderful and frustrating. At the English night assembly I attended, the students performed wonderful songs and short plays they had learned in English, but the audience spent the time talking to each other, talking on the phone, and coming and going. For every song, the keyboard player played the same rhythm, always overwhelming the kids’ singing, and never at the same rhythm as the song.
4. Cooking for myself every meal is wonderful. Especially as spring and summer arrive, more and more fruits and vegetables are available and absolutely delicious. It’s really a lot of fun figuring out how to cook different foods for the first time.
5. Cooking for myself every meal is hard. Even harder: cleaning dishes after every meal.
6. It’s easy to spend a lot of food splurges. I’m looking at you, 10 manat jar of honey which I ate way too quickly. I’m looking at you, Baku. Foul temptress.
7. Bucket showers in a building not connected to the house is nowhere near as bad as I thought it would be when I arrived. The stove heats the whole room. And now that it’s summer we’re using a normal showerhead, which is only difficult when lighting the gas heater with a long piece of newspaper.
8. It’s all in how you present an idea. My director has initially rejected several ideas I had, or tried to limit the projects, but with a little creative explanation of the goals of the projects and how it can benefit the school, he’s quick to get on board.
9. There are more important things than teaching English. Or going to America. As I’ve been here, my priorities have changed. I don’t want to just be an English teacher, I want my students to act on their ideas and dreams. There are days when I could really care less if they learned English. Of course English is important for some of those dreams, but not all.
10. I do need to work towards a more permanent, lasting, and sustainable project. I’ve been putting it off because of worries about whether the project was being suggested for the right reasons or if it was a “show off what the PCV gave us” idea. After the counterpart conference, I think the sustainable ideas are more clearly known to my organization.
Bonus Thing I’ll Have to Learn: I’m going to have to be creative this summer to keep students interested and involved because after the end of June, my school’s going to be locked, and I won’t have a place for clubs. Word of mouth will have its work cut out for it.
1. I need to plan lessons more. I think my classes have been well run for the most part, and the students who come have been enthusiastic, but there have been classes that have been pretty hectic over the last few months. Next fall I need to make myself build more constructive and involved lessons to really teach and strengthen my club lessons.
2. When I do English conversation clubs, I need to have smaller clubs. Part of why the clubs were so hectic was because there were too many kids. It would be a lot easier to get a smaller group of kids active.
3. Assemblies here are both wonderful and frustrating. At the English night assembly I attended, the students performed wonderful songs and short plays they had learned in English, but the audience spent the time talking to each other, talking on the phone, and coming and going. For every song, the keyboard player played the same rhythm, always overwhelming the kids’ singing, and never at the same rhythm as the song.
4. Cooking for myself every meal is wonderful. Especially as spring and summer arrive, more and more fruits and vegetables are available and absolutely delicious. It’s really a lot of fun figuring out how to cook different foods for the first time.
5. Cooking for myself every meal is hard. Even harder: cleaning dishes after every meal.
6. It’s easy to spend a lot of food splurges. I’m looking at you, 10 manat jar of honey which I ate way too quickly. I’m looking at you, Baku. Foul temptress.
7. Bucket showers in a building not connected to the house is nowhere near as bad as I thought it would be when I arrived. The stove heats the whole room. And now that it’s summer we’re using a normal showerhead, which is only difficult when lighting the gas heater with a long piece of newspaper.
8. It’s all in how you present an idea. My director has initially rejected several ideas I had, or tried to limit the projects, but with a little creative explanation of the goals of the projects and how it can benefit the school, he’s quick to get on board.
9. There are more important things than teaching English. Or going to America. As I’ve been here, my priorities have changed. I don’t want to just be an English teacher, I want my students to act on their ideas and dreams. There are days when I could really care less if they learned English. Of course English is important for some of those dreams, but not all.
10. I do need to work towards a more permanent, lasting, and sustainable project. I’ve been putting it off because of worries about whether the project was being suggested for the right reasons or if it was a “show off what the PCV gave us” idea. After the counterpart conference, I think the sustainable ideas are more clearly known to my organization.
Bonus Thing I’ll Have to Learn: I’m going to have to be creative this summer to keep students interested and involved because after the end of June, my school’s going to be locked, and I won’t have a place for clubs. Word of mouth will have its work cut out for it.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)