September 17-24
Week one is over and I’m feeling enthusiastic.

This week began with my first meeting of the first program I will create for those interested in the English Conversation Club. 52 people showed up ages 10-40! The way word was getting out I thought this might happen, but as the room grew more and more snug and people filtered in, I thought to myself, “how am I going to say no to so many people?” I can take up to 20 and they must already have a basic understanding of English (it is a conversation club, I am not a teacher). It’s something that every PCV faces and there’s not much to say about it except that it sucks. Especially when one after another comes to you to say, "It is my childhood dream to learn English." Ugh!!

However, I am thankful to Sevda, my counterpart who was extremely helpful in spreading the word. Obviously it was effective. She also helped to translate my English text schedule and plan into Azeri. When I greeted the group I spoke four whole paragraphs in Azeri!

Most foreigners here (and many people who live here) speak Russian and people are always asking (and assuming) that I speak Russian. When I say, “no, I speak English and a little Azeri”, they are always surprised and even delighted. It symbolizes my desire to be here and to learn the local culture. So many foreigners are here to profit from Azerbaijan (as many of you know, this is a oil rich country) with no regard to the culture or people. Learning the language is a small way to show that I am not here for that (living at the local level and offering free services is another).

And speaking of living at the local level…this is tremendously important and much easier to do if you are not around Americans (as I am not). My site mate is 25 minutes by bus and the bus stops running at 3p.m., so we haven’t seen one another more than once a week, therefore it’s like living without a site mate.

The other day I thought about buying more clothes (yes, I’m still thinking such things – it’s really hard to change!) and then I thought to myself, “everyone here wears the same outfit or same 3 outfits every day. They only have 3 or 4 hangers in their closets because they don’t need any more than that. If I wear a different outfit every day, what does that say?” And this is when living at the local level comes into play, because I know everyone is watching everything I do and everything I represent. I am not the first American they have met, but they could probably count them on one hand and I am the only one living here.

I think the fact that PC gives us so little money is an easy way to make this transition. Then you realize that 5 manat for a taxi is really expensive, and you balk and shudder along with the locals about the ridiculous 30% inflation rate. Because with development everything is getting more expensive, but most people aren’t getting any wealthier.

I spent this last weekend in Baku with about 35 other PCV’s both from our group and AZ4. I live only 2 hours from Baku, and there are always busses going there, so it makes the trip relatively painless.

I saw a bunch of people, shared stories and ideas and lived like I was in America. I went to restaurants and ordered in English, I browsed the racks at air conditioned clothing stores and I even hugged my male friends in public! It was very disturbing. Though I enjoy going to Baku on some level, it really messes with my mind. I stayed at a hostel with some other PCV’s, went out to eat at a Thai restaurant, bought some DVD’s for 3 manat a piece and raided the PC lounge.

The PC lounge is a sacred place. It is as close to America as you will get.
Side note: notice how I now refer to America instead of the U.S.. This is a nasty habit I have gotten into because everybody here refers to it as such. When you say the U.S., people just become confused and it takes longer to explain (they know where and what the U.S. is, it’s just not the common term), thus, for all of you who are annoyed by this (and I would be one of you if I were you) get over it, I’m trying to integrate.
Sunday afternoon I found myself sitting around watching, “Stranger than Fiction” in an room so air conditioned it was cold while eating a slice of Hawaiian pizza that had just been delivered! Real pizza. As more and more people filtered in I thought to myself, “I have to get out of here!” and a little while later (after the movie and after my pizza and hot cocoa) I left with my site mate, this time finding the right buses, and traveled back to my site where things made sense again.