There’s nothing like an eight-hour layover in Istanbul to drive one to reflection. Three flights to Baku have left since I arrived. Why I wasn’t booked on any of them is a little beyond me.
A divisive issue amongst PCVs is going home mid-service. Most volunteers leave the country, but not all go back to the United States. Many worry that going will make it too difficult to come back. Others want to take advantage of countries nearby that they wouldn’t otherwise visit. To some, going home is a sign of a lesser commitment to the Peace Corps work. When I left for Peace Corps, I did not intend to return home before the end of my service, but as time went on, the idea became more and more attractive. When was not a difficult question to answer once I had decided I liked the idea, and if I had not gone home at this time, I doubt I would have at all. The answer was Christmas. As much fun as last year was, it wasn’t Christmas.
Packing became more complicated when my host parents asked me to carry some things to their son, currently studying as part of the MUSKIE program in Ohio. And so I became a pack mule. They loaded me up with jams, chocolates, homemade vodka, honey, and other items that they felt he was most in need of and missed most. Their son had decided he would spend Christmas morning with my family, and then go down to Washington, DC, to spend the rest of the week with a former PCV, their first hostee.
As soon as I had wrapped up my school’s theater assembly, I set to packing. Intending to insure that everything made it in one piece, my host mother decided she would help. At first frustrating, I later became glad she did, because together we were better able to weigh the bags to make sure they stayed under the limits. I left the next day for Baku; worried that there might be weather (every time I’ve traveled so far this season, weather has proven difficult) I had decided to go a day early. I was also able to wrap up some last minute Christmas shopping.
Flights to and from Baku seem to be deliberately timed to be most inconvenient to those of us without personal transportation, and my flight was scheduled for 5:30am, meaning I needed to be at the airport around 3:30am. Our housing coordinator had organized a taxi to pick me up, but the driver decided he could not make it, which caused several desperate moments while I stood outside the PC office, until the housing coordinator himself showed up, to take me. Words cannot begin to explain how thankful I am to him for that kindness.
Finally through security, it came time to check my baggage. One line was shorter than the others, with what looked like just one party in front of me. Choosing this turned out to be a mistake. The party was a huge Brazilian family with small children, child seats, strollers, and about a million bags. The man working the counter seemed in no hurry to get them checked in, typing slower and slower with every passing minute. This went on for an hour. My check in took about three minutes.
The flights themselves were nondescript, but customs on the American side proved almost as taxing as the Azeri side had been. As it turns out, vodka must have a label on it; the next time I bring homemade vodka, it will be taken. To be fair, as the vodkas were in reused bottles, I think I may have gotten through with them anyway.
Stepping out of the customs/baggage claim area and being greeted by cheers from those I love filled me with the exact warmth that I hoped it would. Apparently, they had decided, after waiting for so long, that they would take the next guy that came through the gates. Glad it was me.
I had had this obviously deranged idea that there would be plenty of time to relax and rest, to walk our dog, to watch TV and enjoy high-speed wireless Internet. To go see movies and eat tons of food. This proved to be completely ridiculous. I did get to eat. A lot. I had Mexican, burgers, brisket, macaroni and cheese, bleu cheese dressing on salad, buffalo wings, steak, fresh fish, gold bar brownies, doughnuts, really just about everything that was on my list.
But I was constantly going from one place to another, seeing someone or spending time with someone else. It was hectic, tiring and absolutely perfect. Well, maybe not perfect, as I’m realizing now that there is quite a list of groceries I wanted to pick up before coming that I forgot because I was forced to cram in all my shopping on the last day.
Now I’m back in Azerbaijan. I arrived several days ago around 4:30 am, and managed to get back to the Peace Corps office via London-style tax, which actually had a meter(!). I promptly passed out on the sofa until around 8am when a couple new PCVs were rummaging around on their way back to their sites. A few hours later, when I woke up again, I got a taxi to the bus station and then headed back to Ismayilli. I woke up part way through the ride to discover the country covered in white.
It’s been warm the last few days, and the snow is quickly melting. Readjustment has been relatively easy. Having a puppy helps a lot with that. It’s worst at night, just before bed. There’s something very comforting in sleeping in one’s own bed, and without long underwear. I know I have less time to go than I have completed, that I’ve come further than I have left to walk. Just knowing that doesn’t always make it easier when the winter’s closing in and it’s getting to be time to hunker down for the season. For that reason, I will be happy to be starting up clubs again next week. I’ll be beginning a couple new clubs now that theater has finished. My main idea right now is a broad Creativity club, encompassing arts and crafts, poetry, and other similar activities. Not sure what the other club will be. Environment? Cooking? Health? I’ve got a few options. A couple kids asked me if I would be doing English clubs again, so I might just have to fall back on that old chestnut. As much fun as I have doing non-English conversation clubs, they are a big draw, and something people here often ask for and find important. So of course, I have to find the balance between doing what I want and fulfilling the needs and wants of my community and organization. But the latter is a story for another day.
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