September 30

After spending the past two weeks both helping to train the new Language and Cultural Facilitators (LCFs) for the new group of AZ6 trainees arriving last weekend, and attending the International Youth Employment Summit in Baku, I’ve struggled to define and articulate what those experiences meant to me in a medium as trite as print.
My conclusion is that it is impossible to express the feeling of meeting youth leaders (state workers and other high ranking professionals) from over 50 countries, in a country that is not the U.S; watching an Iranian woman dance without her veil, listening to the (absurdly funny) stories of a journalist who was in Iraq the day after Sadam fell, a former PC beneficiary from Liberia, describing the aftermath of war and how “his volunteer” helped him get to where he was today; running two of the only youth centers in Liberia. I lack the skills to illustrate the feelings that rose within me and I will, instead, talk about the weather.

Last month it was 110 degrees in my house (I know this thanks to the handy thermometer Adam sent me). Now it’s 62. I find myself bundled in layers, wool socks (also thanks to Adam) a sweatshirt (thanks Mom) and slippers. I stare out the window somewhat apprehensively wondering when the rain will break so I can wash my clothes. I must again learn to adapt to the seasons, which so directly affect my life.
As mentioned earlier, the new group of trainees have arrived and have settled in their training sites just last weekend. Two weeks ago, the volunteers before us, the AZ4’s, departed for their futures outside Azerbaijan. This transition lead me to believe that one day, I too, will depart this country, this experience and all that has come to pass, for something else.

I can only imagine this in the abstract. It seems impossible for me to “wrap my mind around” it. I’ve talked to other PCV’s and they feel the same way. It’s not as if I am new to comings, goings and new experiences, but all the same, the strangeness captures me. How far I’ve come, what I’ve learned, and that one day, my journey here will come to an end – but still not for quite a long time.

In more concrete news, my number of yard animals has multiplied and we now have three chickens and two geese running around. This is in addition to Beethoven, the dog. I now have an outlet for my old fruit, vegetables and bread that, without preservatives or chemicals, cannot seem to last long enough for me to eat.

I’ve learned to make several new meals in the past few months including lentil soup, applesauce, cinnamon rolls, bruscetta and others. I’ve also learned to make jam and have been the lucky recipient of several jars of jam from friends. I’ve traveled to all the (permitted) southern towns and a few northern cities. I haven’t learned to play the Tar, but I have learned to play two songs on piano. My Azeri lessons have ended in place of Russian and I now know the Cyrillic alphabet, can count to 10 and say the most basic greetings and introductions. It’s fun finding a variety of outlets for the long expanses of time spent without “anything to do”.

I lost weight, gained weight and now do yoga in the morning for my sanity. I became addicted to television shows (on disk) I would never have watched in the states (I haven’t even owned a T.V. in the past 7 years) and came to the healthy conclusion that I cannot watch any more. Last night I began reading Frankenstein by candlelight (because of a lack of electricity, not for romantic effect).

I don’t write as often, as I find my life less and less noteworthy (to me, at least). Today I’ll go “guesting” at a friend’s house who will surly fill me with lots of tasty Azeri treats I’ve become addicted to and unable to make at home yet. At the end of the week, after Ramadan celebrations have concluded, I will begin my next round of clubs including a movie, creative writing, debate, media and English conversation club.

And the beat goes on…