April 17
Spring is here. The unfamiliar returns familiar. I am waiting for the heat to suppress me, but I’m picking herbs in my garden for dinner until then. This world has blown my mind and as a result my very cells have changed. I thrive in a world that blows my mind.

I’ve found an oasis in the desert. My own private Idaho. Every day the desert jungle grows greener. I open my purple gate and I am in another world. I am completely here. I haven’t seen an American in weeks. Have I lost it? Lost what?

My life is akin to my transparent, embroidered curtains. I can see outside all right sometimes, but other times they provide a thin barrier allowing me to see only their embroidery. What do I mean? The language barrier is intense, but I have stepped up my studying and since the only English speaking person at work no longer works there, a relevance and immediacy now pervades my ambition. It’s for the best.

My Azeri language tutor now has a small goose living in her bedroom.

I sometimes need an Azeri translator to translate my Azeri.

The mosquitoes are coming, bringing with them malaria pills and mosquito netting. In fact, they’re already here but remain elusive leaving only their little red bite bump calling cards behind. I swear I had no idea I was being ambushed.

Gas becomes stronger in tandem with the decreasing need for it. Strays give birth to strays and strengthen their already sizeable community. Diplomacy and politics are as important as any English I might teach, which seems to be the only thing people think I do or want me to do. Under the shadow of no one, the gaze of everyone.

Yesterday morning I woke up to find I had no water. I still have no water today, and it looks like this might last a couple more days. Though being without water is a relatively recent phenomenon at my new house, I’m a practiced hoarder, so I had some reserves on hand. I cannot tell if this is, in the long run, positive or negative reinforcement of this habit.

Trying to decipher community news is like listening to a faint, snowy recording backward. I laugh, throw up my hands and place my head upon them.

There are things that melt my heart. Making friends and listening to them. Calling for help and receiving it. The great lengths people go to convince you. The things they will tell you in confidence.

While exiting the library yesterday, I found a small boy herding sheep TOWARD the entrance.

I see many smashed, dried frog remains on the road and “sidewalk”, but I haven’t see or heard very many living frogs.

I attended the celebration of “Alphabet Holiday” which I think was like a first grade graduation. They never sang the alphabet, but they did dance and sing many other songs.

Yesterday a bird flew into the library and proceeded to knock itself against the windows until it passed out. I tried to help it by opening windows, but it kept flying into the closed ones. When it fell to the ground in exhaustion a conversation club member picked it up and set it on the windowsill. It was very alive, but obviously beaten up. We then closed all the windows.

And on and on….