Several months ago, we received news that an American reality show would be coming to Azerbaijan. Speculation flurried and it quickly became the worst kept secret in Baku: The Amazing Race was on its way. Several volunteers and Azeri counterparts interviewed to help the production as aids and interpreters, and while most begged off due to the time commitment, a couple went ahead with helping. That was all we heard for awhile.
Last week, the episode that was filmed in Azerbaijan aired. It’s funny how seeing a bunch of American stereotypes running around the streets of Baku, past familiar sites and landmarks, can be revealing about a culture and absolutely wrong at the same time.
The Amazing Race people dashed out of the airport I’ve gotten to know all too well waiting for guests and out into the London-style taxis that have appeared recently in the capital. Sure, they were missing out on the joy of Ladas, but they made the smarter choice as the London taxis have meters. And they noted the primary trait of all taxi drivers here, they drive like they’re on the Autobahn or in Indy. Perfect for a bunch of people in a contest called The Amazing Race.
The taxi took them to the Atesgarh Temple, the temple with the perpetual flames due to natural gas, though they didn’t mention this on the show. When the contestants arrived, they were bombarded with traditional music and dancing, which was completely in line with my experiences. And just like us when we first arrived at the hotel a year and a half ago, the racers joined in awkwardly at first, but soon were laughing and enjoying themselves.
The contestants had two choices in their contest in the country: search a car filled to the brim (literally) with apples, or wipe down a man who has bathed in oil. One of these I am all too familiar with, the other was as new to me as it was to the contestants. Every Sunday at the market I see cars filled with fruits and vegetables. The trunks lined with plastic tarps, the passenger seats removed for more storage space. In the contest, the racers had to search through a car of apples to find one apple with a ribbon on it. I do not envy them that. They also quickly noticed the fact that they were being stared at as they rooted through the cars. This is a common and at times infuriating aspect of the culture here, and can cause major fishbowl-itis, though I can’t blame people for watching some crazy Americans sitting in a car trunk looking for one apple among many.
The second task, in which a man has bathed in oil for health reasoning, was new to me. It must be a thing for people living nearer to the Caspian, because out here in Ismayilli, there’s just enough oil and gas to cook and heat our homes, if that. The fact that the men the contestants were washing down were hairy as all get out wasn’t too surprising, though.
Finally, the contestants had to find their way to a carpet store in the old part of Baku (which is called Icheri Sheher, not Old Town, thank you very much) and then the boulevard along the Caspian Sea (which the show called Esplanade, which I have never heard anyone call it, to us it’s just Bulvar), to meet the host. Here the taxi drivers reared their stereotypical head again, when one taxi driver stopped on the side of the road, seemingly to ask for directions, though given that they were just around the corner from their destination, I’d guess it was more likely he was seeking out a toilet or some cigarettes.
Watching the show was in many ways like watching our service in an hour, or at least our times in Baku. I recognized familiar places, normal Azeris in the background, and customs and ideas that I’ve grown to know well. While I think I would do pretty well on a show like The Amazing Race, I’m glad I’ve had the opportunity to spend time in the countries I’ve visited, to get to know the culture better and become more comfortable. While there was much that was familiar to me in the show, I doubt the contestants were able to think of too much else than what they had to do next. Sure it’s a contest, but Ferris Bueller had some choice words for the kind of life they were living.
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Happy Novruz!: Or, When Is Novruz, Anyway?
This year’s Novruz was a more subdued in Ismayilli than last year. Novruz, just a refresher, is the large spring holiday in Azerbaijan, marking the end of winter and the coming of spring, a “new day.” The holiday is a big time for family to come together, but Novruz found my host family split in several directions. One host brother is studying in Ohio, another is working on an oil ship as a translator. That left my host parents a bit lonely, and while I did my best to be an acceptable consolation prize, I’m sure it wasn’t the same for them. Last year’s Novruz was a big deal. In addition to both their sons, their first volunteer came to visit, along with my host father’s brother’s family. It was a full house, to say the least.
Just because this year’s holiday was quieter doesn’t mean it wasn’t a good holiday. We had our share of plov and baxlava, and then some. We jumped over a pretty decent fire, and kids threw their hats at our door in hopes of sweets (it’s kind of like Halloween, but with hiding while their hats are filled with sweets, candy, and fruit—even in Azerbaijan there are people who insist on giving healthy stuff).
The week before Novruz, I sat down with a conversation club and had the students tell me about Novruz. When I asked about when Novruz is, they got into an argument. It may seem strange that there is uncertainty about when the biggest holiday of the year, but it actually makes a bit of sense. And at the same time it is completely baffling. Novruz comes originally from the Zoroastrian faith, and like many holidays in the region, the holiday begins at sundown the night before and lasts until the next sundown. At the same time, everyone wishes each other Happy Novruz for days and even weeks beforehand, the same way Christians often wish others Merry Christmas all through the “Christmas Season.” Making matters more confusing though, is that Novruz is celebrated in ceremony in Baku, the capital, a day before it is celebrated in the regions. Why this is has never been satisfactorily explained to me, but the matter can’t make things easier.
I spent the majority of the week dealing with a blow to ABLE, the Azerbaijan Boys’ Leadership Experience. We failed to win the main grant we were hoping for, which is forcing us to reevaluate our game plan. While this is a blow, we hope to push this to be the first step to true sustainability by searching out smaller donors and focusing on local organizations. Funding the camp will go down to the wire, and we’ll probably have to make some difficult decisions, but if we can make this happen, we all hold high hopes that we are now moving the camp in the right direction. The exec board for ABLE had already been hoping to move down this path, we just thought we had more time to set it up beforehand. There’s no such thing in community service, apparently.
Just because this year’s holiday was quieter doesn’t mean it wasn’t a good holiday. We had our share of plov and baxlava, and then some. We jumped over a pretty decent fire, and kids threw their hats at our door in hopes of sweets (it’s kind of like Halloween, but with hiding while their hats are filled with sweets, candy, and fruit—even in Azerbaijan there are people who insist on giving healthy stuff).
The week before Novruz, I sat down with a conversation club and had the students tell me about Novruz. When I asked about when Novruz is, they got into an argument. It may seem strange that there is uncertainty about when the biggest holiday of the year, but it actually makes a bit of sense. And at the same time it is completely baffling. Novruz comes originally from the Zoroastrian faith, and like many holidays in the region, the holiday begins at sundown the night before and lasts until the next sundown. At the same time, everyone wishes each other Happy Novruz for days and even weeks beforehand, the same way Christians often wish others Merry Christmas all through the “Christmas Season.” Making matters more confusing though, is that Novruz is celebrated in ceremony in Baku, the capital, a day before it is celebrated in the regions. Why this is has never been satisfactorily explained to me, but the matter can’t make things easier.
I spent the majority of the week dealing with a blow to ABLE, the Azerbaijan Boys’ Leadership Experience. We failed to win the main grant we were hoping for, which is forcing us to reevaluate our game plan. While this is a blow, we hope to push this to be the first step to true sustainability by searching out smaller donors and focusing on local organizations. Funding the camp will go down to the wire, and we’ll probably have to make some difficult decisions, but if we can make this happen, we all hold high hopes that we are now moving the camp in the right direction. The exec board for ABLE had already been hoping to move down this path, we just thought we had more time to set it up beforehand. There’s no such thing in community service, apparently.
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Georgia On My Mind
With three fellow PCVs, I finally made it up to Georgia, the easiest nearby country to visit. Both the countries to the south, west, and northeast provide their share of difficulties in visiting, and Turkey requires a plane ride. Fortunately, Georgia is just a bus ride away.
We went to go skiing, in Gudauri, about two hours north of the capital. The four of us met in Ganja and took a bus directly to Tbilisi, via the Red Bridge crossing in western Azerbaijan. The Red Bridge is in fact just a brick bridge, and is perpendicular to the border, not the route to cross, as I had imagined beforehand. The idealist in me was a bit disappointed; I have to admit.
Tbilisi is a smaller city than Baku, and feels definitively older as well. Baku only truly became a major site under the Soviet Union when Azerbaijan was used for its oil and natural gas, and Baku was convenient for these goals. Tbilisi, in contrast, has been the major city of Georgia for centuries, and in addition to straddling a large river, is filled with old buildings, churches, and topped with a large fort.
Our bus actually dropped us on the outskirts of the city and we experienced our first moment of culture shock. We realized, very suddenly, that even though we have spent the last year and a half becoming proficient at Azerbaijani, we didn’t speak a word of Georgian, and only a few words amongst us of Russian. Additionally, we couldn’t make heads or tails of the Georgian alphabet. We were back to square one, just as we’d been when we first stepped off the plane in Baku. It was a jolt, and in fact, a little frightening to be so helpless for a change.
We spent the first night in a hostel in Tbilisi. Another first for me, and while it gave me a taste for what hostels are like, we left spent the majority of the afternoon exploring the city and left early in the morning, so it wasn’t quite the full hostel experience. However, it was enough to remind me of my time at Genesee Valley, so perhaps I know more of hostels than I think. I’ll just have to go back.
One thing that Tbilisi and Georgia have in spades is good food. We had a delicious meal of chicken cooked in a garlic-spiced broth (yes, they cook with spices!). We had bacon and eggs for breakfast (yes, they eat pork—Georgia is predominantly Christian). The main food Georgia in known for (to us at least) is a dish called khachapuri, which is sort of a pizza sandwich. The most common sort is dough with cheese inside of it. There are variations that involve egg and more cheese being baked on top, or with beans inside as well. Basically, it’s delicious any way you have it. And it’s everywhere. I doubt I would have lost as much weight as I have if I could eat khachapuri every day. We spent a considerable amount of the trip wondering how our lives would be different if we had been placed in Georgia.
To return to the purpose of our trip, we came to ski. And ski we did. We arrived around midday to Gudauri, a resort up in Caucusus, above the tree line and among some of the most beautiful mountains I’ve ever seen. I have never skied anywhere like it. We feared the weather would be bad, but the entire weekend, the sky was brilliant clear blue, which turned out to have its own downside, as none of our group had thought to bring sunscreen. Oops.
The slopes were just as nice as the weather, and while I was out of practice and shape, and my muscles that I had forgotten I had reminded me of this the next day, it was a lot of fun. I only fell down five or six times!
Sitting on the gondola in our ski gear, with mountains in the background, and the sun shining down, we were shocked by how good we felt, how away from everything that had been our lives for the past year and a half. It was a real vacation; a vacation like we’d take back in our pre-Peace Corps lives. This wasn’t exploring a new culture or studying a new language, this was pure fun and games.
By the time we made it back to our sites, it was time to get ready to celebrate our second and last Novruz in Azerbaijan. But that’s for another post.
We went to go skiing, in Gudauri, about two hours north of the capital. The four of us met in Ganja and took a bus directly to Tbilisi, via the Red Bridge crossing in western Azerbaijan. The Red Bridge is in fact just a brick bridge, and is perpendicular to the border, not the route to cross, as I had imagined beforehand. The idealist in me was a bit disappointed; I have to admit.
Tbilisi is a smaller city than Baku, and feels definitively older as well. Baku only truly became a major site under the Soviet Union when Azerbaijan was used for its oil and natural gas, and Baku was convenient for these goals. Tbilisi, in contrast, has been the major city of Georgia for centuries, and in addition to straddling a large river, is filled with old buildings, churches, and topped with a large fort.
Our bus actually dropped us on the outskirts of the city and we experienced our first moment of culture shock. We realized, very suddenly, that even though we have spent the last year and a half becoming proficient at Azerbaijani, we didn’t speak a word of Georgian, and only a few words amongst us of Russian. Additionally, we couldn’t make heads or tails of the Georgian alphabet. We were back to square one, just as we’d been when we first stepped off the plane in Baku. It was a jolt, and in fact, a little frightening to be so helpless for a change.
We spent the first night in a hostel in Tbilisi. Another first for me, and while it gave me a taste for what hostels are like, we left spent the majority of the afternoon exploring the city and left early in the morning, so it wasn’t quite the full hostel experience. However, it was enough to remind me of my time at Genesee Valley, so perhaps I know more of hostels than I think. I’ll just have to go back.
One thing that Tbilisi and Georgia have in spades is good food. We had a delicious meal of chicken cooked in a garlic-spiced broth (yes, they cook with spices!). We had bacon and eggs for breakfast (yes, they eat pork—Georgia is predominantly Christian). The main food Georgia in known for (to us at least) is a dish called khachapuri, which is sort of a pizza sandwich. The most common sort is dough with cheese inside of it. There are variations that involve egg and more cheese being baked on top, or with beans inside as well. Basically, it’s delicious any way you have it. And it’s everywhere. I doubt I would have lost as much weight as I have if I could eat khachapuri every day. We spent a considerable amount of the trip wondering how our lives would be different if we had been placed in Georgia.
To return to the purpose of our trip, we came to ski. And ski we did. We arrived around midday to Gudauri, a resort up in Caucusus, above the tree line and among some of the most beautiful mountains I’ve ever seen. I have never skied anywhere like it. We feared the weather would be bad, but the entire weekend, the sky was brilliant clear blue, which turned out to have its own downside, as none of our group had thought to bring sunscreen. Oops.
The slopes were just as nice as the weather, and while I was out of practice and shape, and my muscles that I had forgotten I had reminded me of this the next day, it was a lot of fun. I only fell down five or six times!
Sitting on the gondola in our ski gear, with mountains in the background, and the sun shining down, we were shocked by how good we felt, how away from everything that had been our lives for the past year and a half. It was a real vacation; a vacation like we’d take back in our pre-Peace Corps lives. This wasn’t exploring a new culture or studying a new language, this was pure fun and games.
By the time we made it back to our sites, it was time to get ready to celebrate our second and last Novruz in Azerbaijan. But that’s for another post.
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