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.

September 5 – September 16
Well, I made it. I am officially a PCV (no longer a lowly PCT, unable to understand anything). We finished our lessons, took the language exam (I did just fine), and were officially sworn in as volunteers by the United States ambassador on Wednesday (Sept. 13th) evening. Thursday morning my sitemate and I headed south to our respective homes, not at all sure of what to expect. The weather was nice and everything went fairly smoothly aside from the cabbie who tried to rip us off (albeit unsuccessfully).

Everything is great. My family is great, my house and room (and bathroom) are comfortable and the food is delicious. I feel fortunate for my arrangement for the next six months (we must live with host families for at least six months before we can move out on our own).

My family is Muslim, and so we wash our feet, hands and face before every meal (which I have to say is a relief because it is much better than not washing at all!) My father is observing Ramadan, which means that for the next month he only eats before and after sunset. The rest of my family is not fasting, and of course they don’t expect me to fast. They do not speak any English, which I am happy about because perhaps I will learn more Azeri. Already I feel my Azeri improving. This is the first time in my life I can consider myself to be anything near bilingual, so it’s a big step. In fact, after spending some time with my family today I thought to myself, “Did I really just converse all this time with them in Azeri?” We don’t speak about complicated things, or use complicated words or sentences, but I can understand most of what they say if they speak slowly and use gestures for words I don’t understand.

My father was the first to discover this. When I arrived my family didn’t think I could speak or understand Azeri at all because if people speak too fast, I can’t. But with some patience on everyone’s part, I think my language skills are pretty good. I’ll begin working with a language tutor in October. In any case, my counterpart speaks English fairly well, so if there’s any question, I can always go to her, which is nice.

My house is small, but comfy. We have a very big yard with many fruit trees and other non-fruit-bearing trees. The toilet and hamam (bathhouse) are outside away from the house, but both are nice (despite the toilet being a squat toilet). The shower (a real shower) is great and very hot! We have consistent electricity (for now) and I think running water (you might wonder why I am not sure about this, but you would have to be here to understand). We have a small black and white TV and also a flat screen TV, which illustrates well the contradictions that abound here.

Here’s what’s next on the agenda for the next couple months:

- Meet the local police and get registered (you must register when you move)
- Make a work schedule (I get to make my own schedule – cool)
- Start a conversation club (or two)
- Meet lots of people and drink lots of çay (tea)

I already anticipate some of the challenges that may arise in my work here as the first Youth Development volunteer. As news has gotten out about my arrival, many people have asked me to teach them English and to be part of my conversation club. Unfortunately (for the YD program) all of these people have been older adults. I don’t know how I’ll work this out yet, but that is what it’s all about; working it out.

Also, a man from a neighboring village wanted me to come to his school and write grants, set up many conversation clubs, bring internet and computers and a host of other things the village needs. Unfortunately, not only am I only one person and without access to such resources, his village in a 45 minute walk from my town and thus too far. He is a bit put off by this, so this kind of situation may be another challenge.

But I am ready! I cannot stress how happy (and relieved) I am to be here and to have finally been introduced to my life for the next two years. With an amazing counterpart and great family, I feel I have what I need to be successful, whatever that may mean.

August 29-Septmber 5
Today my family’s “washing machine” broke. I put the quotations because really, in my American mind, it is more like an “agitator”; a big drum barrel that swirls the clothes around in more or less soapy water and then in 3 or 4 minutes is finished. From the time I’ve been here the process of washing clothes has taken about 30 minutes as you can only put about 3 or 4 articles of clothing in the drum at a time, and of course afterwards the rinsing and hanging must be done.

But today I was given a whole new perspective. A perspective my Ana says, through laughter, “I must learn”. This is of course because, as she has told me several times, where I’m going it will be very difficult. “So hot” she says, “many mosquitoes”, “no running water”.

Of course I have already been to where I am going, and though I have not been there in the wintertime, I could not see very many differences. But I think she is right, I must learn how to wash my clothes by hand because chances are, I will have to do this again in the future.

So I learned to wash my clothes by hand. One by one. I hadn’t washed clothes in about two weeks, so I had more than usual. Plus I had my big, fluffy towel ready to be washed. Let me tell you, big, fluffy towels are much lighter dry! My bacı sat next to me the entire time laughing. Then she helped me with my towel and graciously helped to rinse and hang my clothes. But she laughed the entire time. Especially when I said in my still poor Azeri, “Mən oyunmalıam” which I meant as “I need to learn” but actually means, “I need to play” Then after her giggles continued I retorted, “Mən güməli dir, bilirəm” which I meant as “I’m funny, I know” But really means, “I is funny, I know” Then as she walked away to hang my clothes I called after her my corrections, which of course made her laugh even more.

But as I was sitting there, bent over the wash bin furiously rubbing my clothes against one another I thought, why in the world do I have so many clothes? Realistically speaking, how many shirts does one person need?

These types of questions have not yet come across my mind with any frequency, but I expect them to flow freely where I’m going. Because it’s true that some PCT’s will become PCV’s in homes with air-conditioning, washers and dryers, indoor western-style toilets and beautiful scenery, where I’m headed next week is nothing of the sort. It’s as we have begun to call it the, “true Peace Corps experience”

So as it may be, as my Ana says, “very difficult” I feel up to the challenge. After all, each challenge prompts a new thought and forces a fresh perspective. And I believe now, as I have always believed, that wherever you are, there you are, and we are always where we ought to be.

Finished. The LPI is over and I did well. Lessons are over and next week I will travel south to my final destination. I had a blog prepared detailing my lesson in handwashing clothes after my "washing machine" broke, but it disappeared so I'll have to search for it and post it later. Just know that it was a good one :) Enjoy the pics...