Mees Veesits Oz-erbaijan

When people from home visit, you want the trip to be perfect. When it’s your girlfriend and you’re celebrating your second anniversary, that desire is at least double, if not more. I was even more stressed because the day before Caroline was set to visit, I was at ABLE, finishing up the camp and bringing the boys home. I rushed home, discovered that our washing machine was broken, decided that washing laundry would take too long by hand, and double-checked that the hotel room was reserved. The day she was to arrive, I bused in to Baku, checked in to the hotel, turned on the air conditioning, and waited until the evening.

Getting to the airport is always an adventure. As usual, I took the metro from the Old City to the stop closest to the airport. I found my way out of the maze on the right side of the highway this time, and started looking for a bus. I asked for clarification, and was directed to a bus that was pulling away, forcing me to chase it down. By this time I was checking my clock regularly, watching the time tick down to the plane’s landing. Naturally, the bus did not actually go to the airport (this being Baku), and once more I was deposited on the wrong side of the highway from the airport, and had to walk in to the airport, as cars zoomed by and security guards gave me confused looks.

Finally, after what always seems like eons of watching the wrong people come out of the baggage claim area, Caroline emerged. By the time we made it back to the hotel, this time by taxi, Caroline was exhausted from her trip. The next day we set out to wander around Baku, particularly the Old City, but were stymied by the heat and humidity of Baku, so after several hours, and a delicious brunch, we retreated back to our hotel and the A/C.

That evening we went out to celebrate the two years, choosing an Indian restaurant as sushi, our first date, was not feasible. Stepping into the restaurant was like stepping out of Azerbaijan and into a whole new world for the whole meal. Plus, we updated our anniversary tradition—ethnic food. We returned to the hotel to discover that the A/C we so desperately were craving had stopped cooling. After much fiddling and playing with the remote, we resigned ourselves to a sweaty night, only to discover part way through the night that all the cooler had needed was a bit of a break.

The heat would plague us throughout the trip, and sadly limited what was comfortable to do during the day. We spent the majority of the trip in and around Ismayilli, my site, which Caroline can now pronounce perfectly (not a criticism of before, but a fault of my typing with a keyboard that does not include an “I” without the dot). Caroline had her share of culture shock, which was to be expected. It’s hard to get used to the staring and some of the gender differences, especially when it’s so hot on top of everything.

The time in Ismayilli went smoothly, and was relaxing and quiet. We had several meals with my host family, including a plov meal, being a special event (Caroline’s arrival), and kebabs, as well as a spaghetti and tomato sauce meal that Caroline cooked (with some help from me, mostly accolades and cheering). Caroline also took the initiative and cooked stuffed chicken and scalloped potatoes. It may be like camping sometimes, but you can eat delicious food even when you go camping (I recall my father winning a pie-making contest while camping on an island in the Florida Keys, for instance).

We ventured out of Ismayilli city to visit two villages. The first, Lahic, is the go-to tourist village, which I’ve discussed in previous posts. A new discovery, though, is that the village was the filming location for a recent movie, Absurdistan. So if you’ve got Netflix, give it an order and see what Azerbaijan villages are like (maybe, I haven’t seen the movie yet).

We also visited the Shato Monolit, or Chateau Monolith, Ismayilli’s winery. Ismayilli rayon, in particular the Ivanovka village, was once home to a large winery during the Soviet era named after the village, but the production moved west towards Ganja while keeping the now misleading name. Visiting the winery was like finding an oasis of style in the middle of nowhere. I don’t mean this as an insult; it’s just that the roads near the winery are typical dirt village roads. And then bam! There’s a garden and a pool and beautiful green grape vines and large steel fermentation tanks. We’d stumbled out of Ivanovka and into Napa Valley. The wine wasn't fantastic, but the rose was good, at least according to someone who doesn’t drink many roses. Paul Giammatti might disagree.

A plan to travel to Nabran fell through (most regrettably, since that’s where the swanky beach resorts are, and I know that the pirate ship pool I saw would be amazing) due to heat and sickness, but resulted in a relaxing few days holed up in an air-conditioned hotel room and eating delicious Baku restaurant food.

Perhaps not the most exciting trip, but it was definitely a big trip. I was touched that Caroline would visit, that she would travel to the other side of the world, braving airplanes (not her favorite mode of transportation), an entirely new culture, and spending quite a chunk of money to get here. It meant a lot to me that she would come and see the place that I live and is so important to me now. To share that with someone, as I’ve been fortunate enough to do twice now this summer, is a great feeling, even if we didn’t do everything we thought we would.

Summer Camp Week 2: ABLE

The camp at which we held ABLE, Sahil Istrahat Merkezi (Sahil Rest Center), sits on the shore of a large lake, with several rowboats which customers can rent for several hours. Across the way from the camp is a beach area and further around, a large house, rumored to belong to the president or some other high government official. At night, the entire shore in front of the home would light up.

We arrived around noon, and the boys were sorted into their teams, and their rooms. We mixed the boys up so they were forced to interact with boys from different rayons. After we ate and got settled, the boys had to work together to choose a team leader, name, cheer, and symbol. We ended up with the Red Dragons, White Lightning, the 12 Winners, and Fireland Gang. During all of this, I and another PCV, Drew, were hard at work setting up a scavenger hunt that would lead the kids around the camp and then to the bonfire for the evening. At the bonfire, all the kids wrote something they didn’t think they could do, and then threw it in the fire. Afterwards, the musically inclined PCVs busted out the guitars for some rockin’.

The next day was my baby, the challenge course. I had worked for a few summers at a summer camp that specialized in outdoor activities and team building. The highlight was always the challenge rope course, and when I found out that ABLE’s challenge course guy had left, I jumped at the chance. To prepare for the course, I scoured my old camp handbook for potential activities. We ended up with 10 activities including trust falls, a Spider’s Web, Nuclear Waste (renamed Caspian Clean-up), the human knot, and a Lava Walk, among others. A PCV manned every station, enabling me to float around, running interference, supporting and taking pictures.

One of the highlights, for campers and counselors alike, was going camping. Each night we took a group of 16 boys out to a field near the camp, taught them how to set up tents, and built a campfire, for s’mores, and more importantly for the camping experience, scary stories. The s’mores went over well, the stories decidedly less so. By the end the boys had talked to each other enough so they knew it was coming, but every night the boys still jumped several feet in the air when the “murderer” came stumbling out of the dark at the end of the story.

Another highlight was swimming. Some of the boys were nervous, having never learned to swim, but the swim area we set up was shallow, and not an issue in the end. This was truly a return to summer life for me. There are times during the school year, when I am trying to plan conversation clubs that the kids will actually learn from when I don’t feel particularly qualified to be here. But at this camp, particularly when running the challenge course and when lifeguarding, that I felt truly comfortable. Lifeguarding, and the particular persona that the job entails, came back to me in a flash. There truly is power in that whistle.

Every day we kept the kids busy. If the kid isn’t tired for a week afterwards, the camp’s not doing its job. Every morning started with morning exercises—wheelbarrow races and stretching and the like, and then, for the boys that hadn’t followed the rules, punishment: push ups, sprints, and other pain-inducing exercises administered by Jake, who seemed to be having almost too much fun with it. We had local guest speakers come in every day, talking on such topics as project management, social engagement, human rights, gender, conflict management. The FLEX/UGrad alumni who served as camp counselors and translators each ran sessions on volunteerism, community, teamwork and leadership. On top of that, we played football (American), ultimate Frisbee, and capture the flag. The final full day was marked by a counselors vs. campers game. In short, they got the camp experience, and then some.

Switching it up a little bit was a visit on the last day by the new Peace Corps Country Director, and the US Ambassador. Both were welcomed happily, and the Ambassador spoke well to the boys, and challenged them to use what they had learned and to be open minded as they move into the future.

One of the greatest parts of the camp was working with the Azeri FLEX/UGrad alumni. These students are all people who spent a year or more in the US studying at an American high school or college, and have impeccable English. More importantly, they really get it. That ambiguous, hard to grasp “it,” which, as much as we preach certain ideas to our students, remain decidedly theoretical. But these students have seen those ideas which are so simple to us: creative, critical thinking, volunteerism, teamwork and fair leadership. They are more important than us, and the more students in Azerbaijan like them, the better work we’re doing. The more work they take on, and the less we’re involved, the better. The strange realization is that the sign that we’re doing a good job is that we do less work. In requiring the students to plan and complete a community project upon their return from camp, they’re going in the right direction. It just takes baby steps.

Summer Camp Part 1: TOT and Sheki

There have been times when I haven’t been sure I’m particularly qualified for the work I’m supposed to do here. Other PCVs have worked with at-risk children or been teachers or helped with NGOs in the United States or abroad. Me? I’ve worked a couple summers as a lifeguard at a summer camp. Only the last year was I trained to be a counselor. So when summer comes rolling around, I finally feel like I’m doing what I was nominated to do with Peace Corps. The moment I heard about ABLE, the Azerbaijani Boys Leadership Experience, during PST, I knew I wanted to be involved. ABLE is a weeklong summer camp for boys from all over the country, in which we work with Azeri counterparts, invite Azeri guest speakers, and of course, play tons of games with the boys.

Looking for a hiking trail with Khayal and Elvin

For Christmas, I went to Kurdamir, and met Todd, one of the leaders of the camp this year, and we talked about ways I could be involved in the camp. Then, at New Year’s, we had a meeting for all the volunteers interested in helping with the camp. I signed up to run the challenge course, and to work on site selection and organizing supplies. As summer neared, I got a call asking if I would like to help with the training of trainers session. The TOT is intended to help prepare the Azeri counterparts, usually a group of FLEX alums, for their presentations on topics such as volunteerism, leadership and community involvement. For TOT, we spent a couple days at the rest area where the camp would be, and was a great opportunity to figure out exactly what we needed.

With the Bravehearts on the group hike.

After TOT, I went to Sheki, a larger town several hours north of Ismayilli, to help out with their summer camp. A three-week camp for Sheki students organized by PCVs, our week’s theme was Life Skills. All of the visiting volunteers, mostly TEFLs aside for myself, were assigned to be team counselors, aided by an Azeri student who spoke English. I ended up with Red Team, which had decided to call themselves the Bravehearts. The camp was well organized, a half day of camp each day, with games and team-building activities, such as human pyramid, hiking, blanket volleyball, relay races, and human knot, as well as lessons about nutrition and FLEX. We ended the camp with an egg drop contest, and kids had time to wrap up their eggs in surprisingly complex and impressive padding.

With only one day off between Sheki Camp and ABLE, we rushed back to Ismayilli to finalize packing and supplies. I also had to wrangle the boys that would be attending from Ismayilli. We were supposed to have three boys come, but one of the boys disappeared (presumably to the village with his family) and was out of contact. So with two boys, we set off for camp, a grueling 35 minutes away.

A Hiking We Will Go

I wrote this back in June, or maybe early July.

Part of my summer program has been a hiking club. It has not been easy. The first day was fantastic. A huge amount of kids showed up, coinciding nicely with my family’s visit. It wasn’t much of a hike, but the kids seemed to have fun, and we ended up in the town park, visited our small history museum, and got to see a meteorite. The next day, after I got back from Istanbul, was almost unattended. In several other attempts, the attendance continued to jump and drop.

I’m not sure why the attendance varies so much, whether it’s poor communication, summer heat, or summer vacation. Regardless, when it came time for yet another attempt, I was a little nervous. On this morning, three twelve year old boys showed up, one of whom I’d never met. Determined to actually do something with the kids, I piled them into a taxi with their water and food, and set out for the nearby village Talistan. Above Talistan in the hills are some ruins of Javanshir castle/fortress.

The boys were a little nervous that I was working off of the travel book and asking for directions from people, but they had fun as we got higher into the hills. Along the way, they found fruit trees ready for the picking, wandering animals, and a river crisscrossing our path.

We finally reached the base of the hill where the fortress was. From the trail we could see the remains of one of the walls. And so we began to trudge up the hill, which quickly turned into a steep, treacherous, slippery half-trail. About halfway up, the kids decided they were too scared to continue (by popular vote), and we backed down the hill carefully, sometimes standing, sometimes sliding. Looking back, we were so close to the hill, but in hindsight that path was not something to be trifled with.

After stopping for a picnic lunch, during which the boys were insistent on sharing their sandwiches with me, we came back to the river, where the boys decided they wanted to go swimming. After stripping to their underwear, the standard swimsuit here, they set to building a dam for bathing. As I sat watching them and reading through my Azerbaijan book for other hikes, I was transported back to a reservoir in Maryland, where I went several times with my friend, David, our families, and our dogs. I can still vividly remember building dams in the river while the dogs ran around us. One summer after coming back from Indonesia, we were still testing each other, and decided to go and stand out in the middle of the freezing river, to see who would budge first. We quickly found that we were both so stubborn neither would give in. And so we knew we were still friends.

As we neared Talistan, the boys began planning our next hiking club. They asked over and over who would be allowed to go and petitioned that it could just be them so they could go swimming more without being embarrassed in from of older boys or (gasp!) girls. I’ll take excitement about going out again as a sign of success. People don’t do enough hiking or exercise here, in my opinion, especially considering that there is so much beautiful nature in which to hike, and that Azeris pride themselves on the natural beauty of the country. The next step is trying to incite the kids to go hiking without me being the reason they go. Fortunately, I’ve got a couple more months of summer.

Zarafat: Humor in Azerbaijan

One of the most interesting aspects of growing accustomed to a culture is learning about their sense of humor. One of the first things I learned about Azeri humor was from watching American movies dubbed into Azerbaijani and shown on television. This is what I learned: Azeris love slapstick physical comedy. After I arrived at site, my host family would watch TV during meals and teatime, and often we would watch whatever movie was on. They showed the entire Home Alone series. My family all laughed uproariously. They also loved the Big Momma’s House series. In addition to the easy to translate cross-culturally physical humor, it also includes men dressed in drag, which Azeris seem to love.

Some humor doesn’t translate, however. There’s not a lot of surreal humor here. One of my sitemates showed some episodes of It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia to his host brother. He repeatedly had to explain why the jokes were funny. Granted, the particular humor of the show is not funny to all American, either.

Sarcasm also doesn’t work much here either. Volunteers often have to follow up a sarcastic comment with the note that they had just told a joke.

Logic humor is the most popular verbal humor here. There’s a character in this region, a sort of analogue to Aesop, but crossed with Amelia Bedelia: Nasrettin Hoja (or Nasreddin Hoca). My host father enjoys telling his stories, which always elicit a laugh.

His favorite story seems to be this: One day Hoja went to the market to buy clothes. First he tested a pair of trousers. He didn't like the trousers and he gave back them to the shopkeeper. Then he tried a robe which had same price as the trousers. Hoja was pleased with the robe and he left the shop. Before he climbed on the donkey to ride home he stopped by the shopkeeper. “You didn't pay for the robe,” says the shopkeeper. “But I gave you the trousers instead of the robe, didn’t I?” replied Hoja. “Yes, but you didn't pay for the trousers, either!” said the shopkeeper.
“But I didn't buy the trousers,” replied Hoja. “I am not so stupid to pay for something which I newer bought.”

My students in particular love to hear about the little language lessons I’ve picked up over the months. I shared this story with my students: I was asking my host brother about the fee I pay at the post office when I get a package. He said that I should ask the postal worker for a recipit, the word for which in Azeri is “qabz” (rhymes with “grabs”). When I tried to pronounce it, it camed out more like qa-beez. Seymur quickly corrected me, saying that I should not say that word, as it means “constipated.” It took awhile to get class back on track after that story.

Two other humorous notes. The first comes from the I Don’t Think You’re Making the Point You Think You Are Department. From eurasianet.org:

“Eurovision in Düsseldorf cost 46 million euros [about $65.6 million], while some bridges or roads built in Azerbaijan cost more,” boasted DJ Fateh, a popular DJ at Baku’s MediaFM radio station. http://www.eurasianet.org/node/63509

The second bit needs a small preface. Azerbaijan does not get along well with its neighbor, Armenia (for more information, see the book Black Garden). To avoid conflict and argument with people in our community over the topic, PCVs have given Armenia a codename: Kansas (because Azerbaijan is Oz).

Okay, so June 26 was Army Day here, commemorating the formation of the modern Azerbaijan army. In our recent staff mailing letter, it was noted that “Azerbaijan's Armed Forces have a training cooperation partnership with the Oklahoma Army National Guard. (Note: As a point of trivia, the Armenian Armed Forces have a training cooperation with the Kansas National Guard).“

In the words of my comedist (a new religion, the basic tenant of which is that God is not just all-knowing and all-powerful, but also all-funny) philosophy professor: Live, laugh, and love.

Cultural Moments

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.

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.

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 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.

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.