Thursday, April 26, 2012
Playing 20 Questions
Whenever we travel here in Azerbaijan, we tend to stand out. I know that may not come as a surprise to any of you, but there it is. A bunch of foreigners stick out like sore thumbs. Because of this, we’re often questioned about who we are, where we’re from, what we do, etc. Usually it’s friendly and comes from curiosity, and we’re more than happy to field these questions. Sometimes, though, it turns into some sort of difficult and complicated game of 20 Questions.
I don’t mean to say that the questioning becomes confrontational. I mean that sometimes, when folks learn that we’re from the US, they decide to pump us for as much information as they can. I’m periodically asked about prices for goods, so they can compare with what they pay here. How much is a liter of petrol? A loaf of bread? A kilo of potatoes? Sometimes I know the answers, but a lot of the time, I have to guess. How many kilometers between Washington, DC and New York City? Wish I could tell you. How much for a batch of cilantro at the market? Well, in America we don’t really shop at markets…oh, you’ve lost interest, sorry. Generally, when I don’t know the food answers, it’s chalked up to the fact that I’m a man and therefore probably don’t do the shopping. Of course, this isn’t the case, but it’s what fits into many people’s perspective here.
Or, they try to show off the knowledge they remember from their school days. Usually this means they ask about museums, holidays, or traditions they’ve heard about or read about. Other times it’s questions about history or random facts about the US or England (often it’s England since the textbooks here focus on England more than America). Occasionally I’ve been asked about the date of American independence or how many rooms are in the British Museum. Other times, I get asked about the differences between British and American English. I generally go for the lift/elevator, lorry/truck, color/colour explanations. These examples are always met with thoughtful nods.
In a way, I feel like these questions are not just meant to help people here learn and compare with their own lives. Sometimes, though, I feel like I’m being tested to see if I am who I say I am. I’m proving I’m American (or English when the difference isn’t entirely understood). I recently visited an older student who lives in a village outside Ismayilli. He invited his neighbor over to meet me, and after dinner, he invited us to tea at his home, where he surprised his parents with me. I felt a bit awkward, as they were clearly not expecting guests, though I appreciated being treated like just another friend of their son’s. Their son explained this was because they didn’t believe I was really American or that there was really an American in their home.
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
Out Here in the Fields
Ismayilli was recently visited our (“our,” because both the volunteers here are from Youth Development) program manager. This will be her first visit to Ismayilli after taking the job earlier this year. All program managers in Peace Corps Azerbaijan visit the volunteers periodically. We’ve been visited once before as part of these periodic checks and once during a special camp my sitemate was leading with her organization. The first visit was about the same time last year, but still while we were in our mandatory host family time, so part of the visit was also to check in and see how we were getting along with our host families. We were also still in the process of getting situated with our host organizations. A lot has changed since then.
I don’t know how it is in other PC countries. I don’t even know the details of other programs here, but more or less, we’re left alone to do the work of Peace Corps out here in Ismayilli. The only times I’m really contact or am contacted by PC and my program manager is when there’s trouble or sometime important is coming up (like a conference). And without commenting on whether or not that’s anyone falling down on the job, I gotta say that I like this independence.
I’m sure it’s different for other people. People who want to talk more to their program managers for that extra support or inspiration, a push in the right direction, can and do talk more often. But I like being on my own here, setting my own schedule, judging my own work. There have been times when I’ve needed that kick in the rear, especially during the winter months, when it’s hard to get out of bed and go to work. But by and large, I am self-analytical and self-critical enough most days to judge when I’m doing enough, when I should be doing more (or less) and what I can do to do a better job. I’m definitely not always perfect, but mostly things have seemed to work out all right.
One thing I know for sure is that readjusting to life in the US is going to take some time, and this is just one more area that will call for some adapting. Working with direct supervision, and really any kind of work with other people will be a shock to the system. Partly, I figure this is because most of my work experience has been pretty individualistic. Lifeguarding is by nature a solitary task as one sits above people playing and splashing, only communicating when necessary. Spending a summer outside by a lake in the woods was also pretty isolated. Maybe I should go be a fire lookout next? Spend the summer months alone in a tower looking out over acres of woods. Sounds better than sitting in a cubicle.
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Azerbaijan's 15 Minutes in the Reality Show Spotlight
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.
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.
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.
Sunday, February 26, 2012
Recent Events and Spring May Just Come After All
Winter may not be over, and clubs are still sparsely attended, but the last week has been considerably sunnier than recently. It may not really be much warmer, but just seeing the sun makes it feel like spring may actually come. A few weekends ago, after what seemed like years of clouds, snow, and frozen pipes, I traveled to Bilasuvar, to visit one of my former cluster mates. This was my first visit to the south of Azerbaijan.
Before I could head south, I found I had to go west. There are no direct roads between my part of Azerbaijan and the southern finger, and I had two options—go west and then south, or go to Baku and then south. I ended up meeting up and heading south from Mingachevir with another PCV friend. This too was a bit of a milestone for me, the first time back to Mingachevir since site visits, over a year ago. At that time, I needed my PCV host to feed me Azerbaijani lines to be able to ask how much some potatoes at the bazaar were, and even then, barely stumbled through the conversation. Now, such conversations have become second nature.
(My host brother has been teaching himself some Spanish, and asked me some questions about that. Now, that requires a lot of conversation to recall the Spanish vocabulary and conjugation.)
At the time, Mingachevir was my first choice for site, perhaps because it was the only place outside of Xirdalan and Sumgayit I had seen in Azerbaijan. But after a year of living and working in Ismayilli, I can truthfully say that I am happy at my site, and even though Mingachevir would have been a great assignment—university students, lots of site mates, warmer winters—there is a lot to be thankful for in Ismayilli. I still have a fantastic host family, beautiful surroundings which I hope to explore more of in a summer that is less humid than much of the rest of the country, and beautiful views of snow-covered mountains in the winter. Not too shabby.
From Mingachevir, we got on a large bus, that was comfortable for how old it was, and despite the fact that its internal systems had been gutted. The spots where the personal lights and A/C fans once were, now were just holes in the ceiling. The engine was where the buses really showed their age; though we definitely weren’t helped by the state of some of the roads we drove on, under construction since before I came to Azerbaijan.
It turned out that we drove back basically the way I’d come, and if I had known, I could have waited for the bus instead of going all the way to its source. Lesson learned. Eventually we turned south, and five hours after we’d left Mingachevir finally had our first rest stop. After that, Bilasuvar was another 45 minutes. We’d taken breakfast with us on the bus, but to be safe had not drunk anything up until the rest stop.
I will say this about the south. It is flat. At least not along the path we were on. Further west, there are the Talysh Mountains, but along the coast it is flat, flat, flat. I dozed off in the last leg of the trip and woke up suddenly to see we were passing over a large lake, suddenly reminiscent of driving to Key West.
Bilasuvar is flat and spread out, so even though it is one of the smallest rayons in Azerbaijan, the town itself is actually fairly large, or at least in comparison to Ismayilli. The PCV we were visiting works at a very nice, modern school financed by Central Bank, complete with Smart Boards and giant outdoor chess sets. While the school faces many of the same issues other schools in Azerbaijan deal with (textbooks, etc), it was startling and exciting to see a school so different from where I work. They even have school buses!
Several other PCVs came to visit us and we made some delicious chicken enchiladas and sugar cookies before settling in for a game of Settlers of Catan. The next day we wandered around town and found ourselves climbing the bleachers at the local stadium and staring out across the fields, trying to spot Iran in the distance. While we were unable to see the mountains that are on the Iranian side, we could see far enough in the clouds to see the road that crosses the border and a flag that marks the crossing.
The final night was marked with more Settlers, good music, and a long, hot shower. The next day, another seven hour bus ride commenced and finally I made it back to Ismayilli, to discover that the pipes had finally thawed and water was mine once more. The days of melting snow were over (hopefully I’m not jinxing myself on this one). A watched pipe never thaws, and getting out of Dodge was just what they needed to work again.
Since then, we've had some sunnier days, and temperatures have even jumped into the 40s! Last Tuesday marked the first of four days leading up to Novruz, each called Chershembe. You may remember from last year that each represents a different element. The first Tuesday was water. Though it is tradition for girls to go to the river to gather water, that step was avoided here (no local rivers, for one). Instead, my family did place a bowl of clean water on the table during dinner and prepared the traditional celebratory meal, plov.
Before I could head south, I found I had to go west. There are no direct roads between my part of Azerbaijan and the southern finger, and I had two options—go west and then south, or go to Baku and then south. I ended up meeting up and heading south from Mingachevir with another PCV friend. This too was a bit of a milestone for me, the first time back to Mingachevir since site visits, over a year ago. At that time, I needed my PCV host to feed me Azerbaijani lines to be able to ask how much some potatoes at the bazaar were, and even then, barely stumbled through the conversation. Now, such conversations have become second nature.
(My host brother has been teaching himself some Spanish, and asked me some questions about that. Now, that requires a lot of conversation to recall the Spanish vocabulary and conjugation.)
At the time, Mingachevir was my first choice for site, perhaps because it was the only place outside of Xirdalan and Sumgayit I had seen in Azerbaijan. But after a year of living and working in Ismayilli, I can truthfully say that I am happy at my site, and even though Mingachevir would have been a great assignment—university students, lots of site mates, warmer winters—there is a lot to be thankful for in Ismayilli. I still have a fantastic host family, beautiful surroundings which I hope to explore more of in a summer that is less humid than much of the rest of the country, and beautiful views of snow-covered mountains in the winter. Not too shabby.
From Mingachevir, we got on a large bus, that was comfortable for how old it was, and despite the fact that its internal systems had been gutted. The spots where the personal lights and A/C fans once were, now were just holes in the ceiling. The engine was where the buses really showed their age; though we definitely weren’t helped by the state of some of the roads we drove on, under construction since before I came to Azerbaijan.
It turned out that we drove back basically the way I’d come, and if I had known, I could have waited for the bus instead of going all the way to its source. Lesson learned. Eventually we turned south, and five hours after we’d left Mingachevir finally had our first rest stop. After that, Bilasuvar was another 45 minutes. We’d taken breakfast with us on the bus, but to be safe had not drunk anything up until the rest stop.
I will say this about the south. It is flat. At least not along the path we were on. Further west, there are the Talysh Mountains, but along the coast it is flat, flat, flat. I dozed off in the last leg of the trip and woke up suddenly to see we were passing over a large lake, suddenly reminiscent of driving to Key West.
Bilasuvar is flat and spread out, so even though it is one of the smallest rayons in Azerbaijan, the town itself is actually fairly large, or at least in comparison to Ismayilli. The PCV we were visiting works at a very nice, modern school financed by Central Bank, complete with Smart Boards and giant outdoor chess sets. While the school faces many of the same issues other schools in Azerbaijan deal with (textbooks, etc), it was startling and exciting to see a school so different from where I work. They even have school buses!
Several other PCVs came to visit us and we made some delicious chicken enchiladas and sugar cookies before settling in for a game of Settlers of Catan. The next day we wandered around town and found ourselves climbing the bleachers at the local stadium and staring out across the fields, trying to spot Iran in the distance. While we were unable to see the mountains that are on the Iranian side, we could see far enough in the clouds to see the road that crosses the border and a flag that marks the crossing.
The final night was marked with more Settlers, good music, and a long, hot shower. The next day, another seven hour bus ride commenced and finally I made it back to Ismayilli, to discover that the pipes had finally thawed and water was mine once more. The days of melting snow were over (hopefully I’m not jinxing myself on this one). A watched pipe never thaws, and getting out of Dodge was just what they needed to work again.
Since then, we've had some sunnier days, and temperatures have even jumped into the 40s! Last Tuesday marked the first of four days leading up to Novruz, each called Chershembe. You may remember from last year that each represents a different element. The first Tuesday was water. Though it is tradition for girls to go to the river to gather water, that step was avoided here (no local rivers, for one). Instead, my family did place a bowl of clean water on the table during dinner and prepared the traditional celebratory meal, plov.
Khojaly 20 Years Later
Sunday marks the 20th anniversary of the Khojaly massacre, which resulted in over 600 civilian deaths. Along with January 20th, this is one of the most important dates in Azerbaijan.
Maybe it’s anniversary fever, but suddenly, Azerbaijan is popping up around the world. Germany and France have recognized the event as an act of genocide. A memorial was erected in Sarajevo, Bosnia and Herzegovina. Signs for Khojaly have been placed in New York and Washington, even on the front page of The Washington Post website, and on buses and buildings in New York City. Even the state of New Jersey recognized the massacre.
At my school, an assembly was held to remember those who passed on that day, complete with a powerpoint slide show, detailing the event. Even though I did not understand all that was said, it was clear how impassioned they felt about the incident.
While the war that lead to these deaths caused suffering and death for both sides of the conflict, it is nice to see the issue receive international attention. Progress towards peace has not been achieved solely between the two countries, which to this day remain technically at war, albeit in a cease-fire. Attention, interest, and encouragement from the international community seem the best and most effective means of encouraging both sides to move towards a peaceful resolution. Of course there are other pressing international relations concerns, but a peace between these two countries sure would make relations in this region healthier.
http://news.az/articles/karabakh/55420
http://news.az/articles/politics/55381
http://azerbaijanamericaalliance.org/
Maybe it’s anniversary fever, but suddenly, Azerbaijan is popping up around the world. Germany and France have recognized the event as an act of genocide. A memorial was erected in Sarajevo, Bosnia and Herzegovina. Signs for Khojaly have been placed in New York and Washington, even on the front page of The Washington Post website, and on buses and buildings in New York City. Even the state of New Jersey recognized the massacre.
At my school, an assembly was held to remember those who passed on that day, complete with a powerpoint slide show, detailing the event. Even though I did not understand all that was said, it was clear how impassioned they felt about the incident.
While the war that lead to these deaths caused suffering and death for both sides of the conflict, it is nice to see the issue receive international attention. Progress towards peace has not been achieved solely between the two countries, which to this day remain technically at war, albeit in a cease-fire. Attention, interest, and encouragement from the international community seem the best and most effective means of encouraging both sides to move towards a peaceful resolution. Of course there are other pressing international relations concerns, but a peace between these two countries sure would make relations in this region healthier.
http://news.az/articles/karabakh/55420
http://news.az/articles/politics/55381
http://azerbaijanamericaalliance.org/
The two links at the bottom of this post relate to projects that are beginning in or will possibly occur. These are not development projects, of the sort that Peace Corps generally becomes involved with, but they are of interest, particularly to someone who has been involved in the development of the country and seen the difference between the regions and the capital.
Even in the past year that I have been here, Azerbaijan, and Baku in particular, has changed drastically. New buildings are constantly being constructed, mostly to be new stores, but also apartments, offices, and hotels. In Baku, anticipation for Eurovision is accelerating. The representative for Azerbaijan has been chosen, and search for a song is now underway. A side note, two PCVs participated in the contest to be selected to represent Azerbaijan in the Eurovision contest, and while they only finished 8 out of 9 in their week (of seven weeks), they brought some wonderful attention to Peace Corps.
The song that started it all: This is their first music video which launched them to international fame.
Introduction Video/In Azerbaijan: For Eurovision, they filmed this video introducing themselves and included a new video clip, which involved filming at the new cultural arts center that is under construction.
Payiz Geldi: The second night at Eurovision, all the contestants performed traditional Azeri music.
Baku Girls: The third night of the competition.
Final Night: On the final night of the competition, they were joined on stage by a whole host of other PCVs who were in town for the week for our group's mid-service conference.
As Azerbaijan barrels towards hosting the event, and endeavors to put its best foot forward, the country’s enthusiasm has grown exponentially, and the government has made bigger and grander changes and projects. Here are two proposals:
http://www.theatlanticcities.com/design/2012/02/azerbaijan-build-one-kilometer-tall-skyscraper/1188/#.TzY33y7U--c.facebook
http://www.news.az/articles/54051
Regardless of what projects are completed in time, and which remain for the future, being here in Azerbaijan at this time is certainly interesting. While most of the changes are focused in Baku, even the regions of Azerbaijan are getting in on the building. Ismayilli has finished its Great Wall of Hiding Trash, and a new row of shops is on its way.
Even in the past year that I have been here, Azerbaijan, and Baku in particular, has changed drastically. New buildings are constantly being constructed, mostly to be new stores, but also apartments, offices, and hotels. In Baku, anticipation for Eurovision is accelerating. The representative for Azerbaijan has been chosen, and search for a song is now underway. A side note, two PCVs participated in the contest to be selected to represent Azerbaijan in the Eurovision contest, and while they only finished 8 out of 9 in their week (of seven weeks), they brought some wonderful attention to Peace Corps.
The song that started it all: This is their first music video which launched them to international fame.
Introduction Video/In Azerbaijan: For Eurovision, they filmed this video introducing themselves and included a new video clip, which involved filming at the new cultural arts center that is under construction.
Payiz Geldi: The second night at Eurovision, all the contestants performed traditional Azeri music.
Baku Girls: The third night of the competition.
Final Night: On the final night of the competition, they were joined on stage by a whole host of other PCVs who were in town for the week for our group's mid-service conference.
As Azerbaijan barrels towards hosting the event, and endeavors to put its best foot forward, the country’s enthusiasm has grown exponentially, and the government has made bigger and grander changes and projects. Here are two proposals:
http://www.theatlanticcities.com/design/2012/02/azerbaijan-build-one-kilometer-tall-skyscraper/1188/#.TzY33y7U--c.facebook
http://www.news.az/articles/54051
Regardless of what projects are completed in time, and which remain for the future, being here in Azerbaijan at this time is certainly interesting. While most of the changes are focused in Baku, even the regions of Azerbaijan are getting in on the building. Ismayilli has finished its Great Wall of Hiding Trash, and a new row of shops is on its way.
Monday, February 13, 2012
Peace Corps and Long Distance Relationships
I’ve been trying different ways to discuss this topic, and no matter what, it seems to come out preachy or self-centered. Of course, this is my blog, so I guess a certain amount of self-centeredness is acceptable and expected. So forgive me this.
Peace Corps is hard. When we are sworn in as volunteers, we pledge to serve in conditions of hardship. Right there in the pledge, so we know what we’re getting ourselves in for, or at least, we know it won’t be easy. Peace Corps does try to prepare us for the hardship we will face. We receive plenty of pamphlets and paperwork about the type of work our program does, and cultural reports about our post countries. But, for prospective volunteers in committed relationships, they go one step further. They send surveys to make sure we are prepared for the upcoming challenges to the relationship.
Of course, no paper can predict all of the challenges that a couple goes through, much less when one person goes to the other side of the planet. And my relationship has definitely had its share of bumps and twists. There have been times when we’ve come pretty close to the brink. But here I am, and here we are, still together. We’ve made it through nearly seventeen months. Nine months and one week to go.
The first weeks were the hardest. Contact was so sporadic and uncontrollable throughout PST, though it did become easier once Peace Corps issued us cell phones. Then we could at least send text messages (though only if the US person has AT&T or Sprint, not Verizon). My girlfriend would call when we couldn’t meet, using Skype, which remains much cheaper than calling on a normal phone plan. It seems so long ago now, but the emotions and frustrations of that time still seem raw and real, and while our relationship has become stronger as we’ve gone through the stresses of PST, sometimes the shadow of that time has reared its ugly head. But, a lot has happened in the 13 months since then, which overwhelm those three months of aggravation and difficulty most of the time. The problems then were no one person’s fault; unless you make the case that they are my fault since I left. But they were and I suppose still are, issues that strain these long distance relationships. No matter what one does, one person is still in another country, usually with spotty Internet contact.
Once I got to site, the relationship became easier for one simple reason—we were able to create a regular talking schedule. The IREX (a community Internet and computer center) had wireless internet which enabled us to speak easily and with minimal irregularities (such as power outages and the like), and my ability to make my own schedule gave us a new flexibility for planning. Last summer, my host brother went to Ohio as part of the MUSKIE program, and my host family installed Internet, meaning I have even more scheduling freedom, and can now plan to talk after IREX closes (this came in huge when the IREX wireless stopped working). Seeing each other’s faces and hearing the other’s voice went a long way to keeping us connected. Sure, we were changing, the typical problem that faces distant couples, but we were able to grow together, not apart. Thank Newton for the wonders of technology. I can’t imagine how difficult this may have been for the first groups of volunteers back in the 60s.
The other thing that made our lives and our relationship easier is that we were able to see each other. We’ve now seen each other three times. First, as soon as was possible (Peace Corps Azerbaijan stipulates that we must remain in country and at site for the first four months of service), we met in Glasgow, Scotland. At that point, I only had a few saved up vacation days, so it was a short trip, but much needed, because it confirmed to us that we still worked when we were together. There was no awkwardness in our conversation or in our actions. All the little things—talking, joking, laughing, holding hands—were still there. We were still us.
The next time was even better, though it was not always fun. She came to Azerbaijani. At the beginning, she was steadfastly against coming. But little by little, she opened up to the idea and eventually decided she would come for ten days at the end of July. The visit was not a vacation, and in addition to the fact that it was brutally hot at the time, it was not always fun. But the fact that she came, that she had opened herself up to the idea and the experience, that she had trusted me to come around the world, meant a lot for the relationship, and meant a lot to me.
The third and most recent visit was over Christmas, and finally I made the trip home. This was my turn to be initially opposed. At the beginning of my service, I worried about not being able to come back to Azerbaijan because I liked being home too much. And while I did like being home, I knew I was far enough along in my service that I would be too stubborn to give up and stay in America.
And she supported that determination. When I got my assignment to Azerbaijan, after we figured out where it was exactly, we were on two different sides about whether I should go. But I went. And now, as we have traversed the ups and downs, suffered through the power outages and dropped phone calls, she said something to me the other day that meant a lot to me. She told me that if something were to happen that would cause me to be sent home early, she would be upset for me. At the beginning, she not entirely jokingly wanted me to suffer some minor but significant enough injury that I would be sent home. Now, though, she understands. She understands me, and that if I were sent home now, or anytime in the next nine months, I would not feel like I had completed what I set out to do, and would forever feel unfulfilled. For that understanding, I know more than ever that this is a relationship worth fighting for, and I thank her for that.
Who knows exactly what will happen in the next nine months (and one week). But at the same time that being in a relationship is made difficult by being in Peace Corps and in turn makes being in Peace Corps more difficult, it also makes it easier in many ways. Even better, someone who visited and now understands what I’m doing here all the more, makes me feel even more motivated and positive about the work I’m attempting to do. And as long as I know that she is there to listen when I need to talk, to talk when I need to listen and even when I’m not ready to listen but always willing to, I know that we will survive and in fact, thrive.
What worked for us will not work for everyone, but, in a small bout of wishing that this is not solely self-centered, I hope that some prospective PCV reads this and gleams some encouragement that they can make their long distance relationship work. We hear time and time again that long distance relationships never work, and I’ve seen and been a part of relationships that have not worked. But sometimes, once in a blue moon, they do. And thank goodness for that.
Peace Corps is hard. When we are sworn in as volunteers, we pledge to serve in conditions of hardship. Right there in the pledge, so we know what we’re getting ourselves in for, or at least, we know it won’t be easy. Peace Corps does try to prepare us for the hardship we will face. We receive plenty of pamphlets and paperwork about the type of work our program does, and cultural reports about our post countries. But, for prospective volunteers in committed relationships, they go one step further. They send surveys to make sure we are prepared for the upcoming challenges to the relationship.
Of course, no paper can predict all of the challenges that a couple goes through, much less when one person goes to the other side of the planet. And my relationship has definitely had its share of bumps and twists. There have been times when we’ve come pretty close to the brink. But here I am, and here we are, still together. We’ve made it through nearly seventeen months. Nine months and one week to go.
The first weeks were the hardest. Contact was so sporadic and uncontrollable throughout PST, though it did become easier once Peace Corps issued us cell phones. Then we could at least send text messages (though only if the US person has AT&T or Sprint, not Verizon). My girlfriend would call when we couldn’t meet, using Skype, which remains much cheaper than calling on a normal phone plan. It seems so long ago now, but the emotions and frustrations of that time still seem raw and real, and while our relationship has become stronger as we’ve gone through the stresses of PST, sometimes the shadow of that time has reared its ugly head. But, a lot has happened in the 13 months since then, which overwhelm those three months of aggravation and difficulty most of the time. The problems then were no one person’s fault; unless you make the case that they are my fault since I left. But they were and I suppose still are, issues that strain these long distance relationships. No matter what one does, one person is still in another country, usually with spotty Internet contact.
Once I got to site, the relationship became easier for one simple reason—we were able to create a regular talking schedule. The IREX (a community Internet and computer center) had wireless internet which enabled us to speak easily and with minimal irregularities (such as power outages and the like), and my ability to make my own schedule gave us a new flexibility for planning. Last summer, my host brother went to Ohio as part of the MUSKIE program, and my host family installed Internet, meaning I have even more scheduling freedom, and can now plan to talk after IREX closes (this came in huge when the IREX wireless stopped working). Seeing each other’s faces and hearing the other’s voice went a long way to keeping us connected. Sure, we were changing, the typical problem that faces distant couples, but we were able to grow together, not apart. Thank Newton for the wonders of technology. I can’t imagine how difficult this may have been for the first groups of volunteers back in the 60s.
The other thing that made our lives and our relationship easier is that we were able to see each other. We’ve now seen each other three times. First, as soon as was possible (Peace Corps Azerbaijan stipulates that we must remain in country and at site for the first four months of service), we met in Glasgow, Scotland. At that point, I only had a few saved up vacation days, so it was a short trip, but much needed, because it confirmed to us that we still worked when we were together. There was no awkwardness in our conversation or in our actions. All the little things—talking, joking, laughing, holding hands—were still there. We were still us.
The next time was even better, though it was not always fun. She came to Azerbaijani. At the beginning, she was steadfastly against coming. But little by little, she opened up to the idea and eventually decided she would come for ten days at the end of July. The visit was not a vacation, and in addition to the fact that it was brutally hot at the time, it was not always fun. But the fact that she came, that she had opened herself up to the idea and the experience, that she had trusted me to come around the world, meant a lot for the relationship, and meant a lot to me.
The third and most recent visit was over Christmas, and finally I made the trip home. This was my turn to be initially opposed. At the beginning of my service, I worried about not being able to come back to Azerbaijan because I liked being home too much. And while I did like being home, I knew I was far enough along in my service that I would be too stubborn to give up and stay in America.
And she supported that determination. When I got my assignment to Azerbaijan, after we figured out where it was exactly, we were on two different sides about whether I should go. But I went. And now, as we have traversed the ups and downs, suffered through the power outages and dropped phone calls, she said something to me the other day that meant a lot to me. She told me that if something were to happen that would cause me to be sent home early, she would be upset for me. At the beginning, she not entirely jokingly wanted me to suffer some minor but significant enough injury that I would be sent home. Now, though, she understands. She understands me, and that if I were sent home now, or anytime in the next nine months, I would not feel like I had completed what I set out to do, and would forever feel unfulfilled. For that understanding, I know more than ever that this is a relationship worth fighting for, and I thank her for that.
Who knows exactly what will happen in the next nine months (and one week). But at the same time that being in a relationship is made difficult by being in Peace Corps and in turn makes being in Peace Corps more difficult, it also makes it easier in many ways. Even better, someone who visited and now understands what I’m doing here all the more, makes me feel even more motivated and positive about the work I’m attempting to do. And as long as I know that she is there to listen when I need to talk, to talk when I need to listen and even when I’m not ready to listen but always willing to, I know that we will survive and in fact, thrive.
What worked for us will not work for everyone, but, in a small bout of wishing that this is not solely self-centered, I hope that some prospective PCV reads this and gleams some encouragement that they can make their long distance relationship work. We hear time and time again that long distance relationships never work, and I’ve seen and been a part of relationships that have not worked. But sometimes, once in a blue moon, they do. And thank goodness for that.
February
The past month has been a bit rough. I remember last winter was tough and cold, but this seems like a whole new level of cold. Of course, Azerbaijan isn't the only country getting hit by ridiculous cold. Europe has been swept by intense cold weather, that has even caused deaths.
The weather has had a strong impact on my clubs. Since returning from Mid-Service Conference, attendance has been way down, and the cold weather is a big part of that. I started English conversation clubs, as well as an arts and crafts/creativity club. I am continuing, with one of the teachers here, to work on an exchange program with a Japanese school (in which we collaborate to complete a cultural mural on a large canvas), as well as a teacher conversation club for non-English teachers, and a small conversation club/English test preparation course that started out as a one-on-one tutoring session to prepare a student for FLEX.
My grandparents sent a pile of National Geographic maps and posters, with which I decorated my classroom, but no students have even set foot in the room since I spent an afternoon deciding which ones to use (surprise, I used them all!). I get excited just walking into the room. Now I just need students to be allowed back outside.
The most disappointing part of the attendance dip has been that I came back from Mid-Service Conference energized and re-motivated. These conferences with Peace Corps are not always the most exciting or informative times, but I love hearing about everyone else's work and projects, and enjoy stealing the best and most useful for my own school. This is just one of those times when I know things will get better, it's just a matter of waiting for the better to come.
We got a step forward (though I'm sure there will be a step back at least once or twice) today, when the sun came out, and stayed out all day. After what seems like a month (really a solid two or three weeks), having the sun on my face today has been rejuvenating. It certainly has not hurt that there was finally enough gas that I didn't need to spend the day hibernating in my brown monster sleeping bag. Next step: I need my pipes to unfreeze during the morning so I can get water. The last few days of filling up my water filter with snow and waiting for it to melt and filter takes a little too long for not much water.
The next milestone to look forward to is next month's Novruz holiday. You may remember, this is Azerbaijan's biggest holiday, and usually means spring is starting to come around the corner. Last year, there was snow on the ground, but we didn't need to bundle up anywhere near as much as we are now. So, fingers crossed that I make it through until then. Think warm thoughts. Think warm thoughts.
The weather has had a strong impact on my clubs. Since returning from Mid-Service Conference, attendance has been way down, and the cold weather is a big part of that. I started English conversation clubs, as well as an arts and crafts/creativity club. I am continuing, with one of the teachers here, to work on an exchange program with a Japanese school (in which we collaborate to complete a cultural mural on a large canvas), as well as a teacher conversation club for non-English teachers, and a small conversation club/English test preparation course that started out as a one-on-one tutoring session to prepare a student for FLEX.
My grandparents sent a pile of National Geographic maps and posters, with which I decorated my classroom, but no students have even set foot in the room since I spent an afternoon deciding which ones to use (surprise, I used them all!). I get excited just walking into the room. Now I just need students to be allowed back outside.
The most disappointing part of the attendance dip has been that I came back from Mid-Service Conference energized and re-motivated. These conferences with Peace Corps are not always the most exciting or informative times, but I love hearing about everyone else's work and projects, and enjoy stealing the best and most useful for my own school. This is just one of those times when I know things will get better, it's just a matter of waiting for the better to come.
We got a step forward (though I'm sure there will be a step back at least once or twice) today, when the sun came out, and stayed out all day. After what seems like a month (really a solid two or three weeks), having the sun on my face today has been rejuvenating. It certainly has not hurt that there was finally enough gas that I didn't need to spend the day hibernating in my brown monster sleeping bag. Next step: I need my pipes to unfreeze during the morning so I can get water. The last few days of filling up my water filter with snow and waiting for it to melt and filter takes a little too long for not much water.
The next milestone to look forward to is next month's Novruz holiday. You may remember, this is Azerbaijan's biggest holiday, and usually means spring is starting to come around the corner. Last year, there was snow on the ground, but we didn't need to bundle up anywhere near as much as we are now. So, fingers crossed that I make it through until then. Think warm thoughts. Think warm thoughts.
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