Just a funny story. So my friend had contacted me because he heard about a jazz concert last night through the Embassy. Tickets were 10 manat and asked if I wanted to go. I like music, I like jazz, and I like company, so why not. So we get over to the Philharmonica and I manage to buy the tickets and we go in and get our seats. As the ensemble comes out we kind of look at each other and agree… that’s a lot of wind instruments for a jazz concert. Sure enough, they start playing some classical national Azerbaijani music (those were literally the only four words of Azerbaijani I understood from the announcer). The music was really great, but definitely not jazz. After this piece they did a pseudo-jazzy number that was quite enjoyable. Then they switched back to a very traditional classical piece that I recognized but I don’t know the composer and clearly there were no pamphlets or playbooks. Then the best part… the finale. This tune starts going and I’m sitting there thinking… I recognize this. In my mind I start singing along, “I feel pretty, oh-so-pretty…” Yes, they were playing West Side Story. Not only did that play that song, they played a compilation of different songs from the entire West Side Story musical, including, “I feel Pretty”, “Maria”, “Cool, boys”, “The Jets at the Dance”, and (this was the best), “I want to be in America.” (I have a thing for West Side Story… let me live.)
My friend and I considered that maybe we had gotten the wrong tickets or something but the ticket definitely even said jazz (albeit in Azerbaijani). Ohh, Azerbaijan. Thanks for teaching me what jazz music was. I really didn’t expect all the wind instruments.
Anyways, I really apologize for not updating any sooner. I’ve been uber-busy and I feel like I barely have time to do anything. It’s weird how all of a sudden, life just kind of crept up and I have plans almost every night and all day during the weekend. When I come home, I don’t want to write on my computer, I want to either relax or sleep.
This weekend I’m going back to the hamam, meeting up with some various students, and going to the opera. I’m sure that something else will come up, since it always does. I had a bit of a disaster today, though. I’ve been sick with basically a head cold, nothing too terrible. I went into my internship and after about an hour I started feeling super nauseous and I literally could barely sit there. I told them I had to leave and pretty much ran out and hopped in a cab. About a minute into my cab ride (and the cabdriver trying to talk to me) I opened the door and started puking out the side. After this, the cab driver shut up, thankfully. I got home, and continued throwing up. I feel a bit better now. I have no clue what I ate, since I only ate bread and cheese this morning. I’m taking it easy the rest of the day in the hopes that I don’t come down with the flu.
Also, HALLOWEEN is coming up next weekend! I've heard of some parties and I want to have a costume, (nothing elaborate) and this means I need help. I obviously didn't bring anything with me, so I need something that is easy to make. Any ideas?
Thursday, October 22, 2009
The Hamam
The Hamam.
So for those of you have heard of what a Russian banya is, you’ll know what’s coming up. For those of you who don’t, you’re about to be in for a shock. The hamam is one of those traditional Azerbaijani things that people here swear by. Basically, it’s a sauna. But really, it’s an experience.
Some of my friends had already been before and asked if I was interested and I decided, why not. So we all went on Monday. Obviously this is a single-sex experience, and depending on the hamam, men and women go different days. Women go on Mondays and Fridays at the particular hamam we went to. (As we were walking in a man down the street started freaking out until he realized it was Monday and it was ok that we went.) So you go in and walk into the changing room and immediately there’s just nudity everywhere. I think there’s a very big difference in attitude towards bodies in the States and pretty much everywhere else. So we change, leave on only undies and walk into the hamam.
My friend had told me that at the hamam, beyond just the sauna, you can get a massage and scrub too. What she failed to tell me, is that the massage and scrub was in public, all in this tiny room. The room was about the size of three standard-sized living rooms put together or something- not very large. Anyways, as you walk in, a large middle-aged (naked) woman comes up to you and very aggressively asks if you want a massage and scrub. When in Rome, right? So we all three agree to get them, and she says she’ll come get us when ready. We shower off and then go sit in the really hot sauna for about 10 minutes. After the sauna, you get in the tub of very cold water for about a minute to cool off, and then you go back into the sauna. You’re supposed to repeat this three times, and then get the massage, but our lady found us first.
It’s funnier with all these details included, but if you don’t want to hear about the aforementioned naked middle-aged woman, skip this. So I get the aggressive lady and I just kind of awkwardly follow her to this large stone slab that’s covered with a pseudo-table cloth. She pours water on it (“cleans”) and instructs me to lie down. I attempt and I don’t get anywhere before she stops me and points to my undies and implies that those are coming off. Ok, fine. So then I get back on and she starts exfoliating my skin like it has never been exfoliated before. In places it had never been exfoliated before. She’s grabbing my legs and shoving them in her chest so she can properly scrub them and whatnot. I turn over and the same happens. Talk about awkward. Then she makes me shower off, and it’s time for the massage. I gave her my body wash and shampoo and she again went to town. It was actually all very worth it, it’s just a bit of shock to be getting rubbed down by a naked woman in a room full of other naked women.
After this we decided we were done for the day and showered off and went back into the changing room. The hamam is the one and only place that Azerbaijani women smoke together. They serve tea and a lot of the women sit around smoking (still naked, by the way).
I’m sure you are all aghast at my daring for doing this, but here the idea of wandering around naked and getting scrubbed down in front of a bunch of people just isn’t a big deal. They kind of have the mindset that everyone has the same parts, why make a big fuss about it. No one cared, and no one was looking.
So for those of you have heard of what a Russian banya is, you’ll know what’s coming up. For those of you who don’t, you’re about to be in for a shock. The hamam is one of those traditional Azerbaijani things that people here swear by. Basically, it’s a sauna. But really, it’s an experience.
Some of my friends had already been before and asked if I was interested and I decided, why not. So we all went on Monday. Obviously this is a single-sex experience, and depending on the hamam, men and women go different days. Women go on Mondays and Fridays at the particular hamam we went to. (As we were walking in a man down the street started freaking out until he realized it was Monday and it was ok that we went.) So you go in and walk into the changing room and immediately there’s just nudity everywhere. I think there’s a very big difference in attitude towards bodies in the States and pretty much everywhere else. So we change, leave on only undies and walk into the hamam.
My friend had told me that at the hamam, beyond just the sauna, you can get a massage and scrub too. What she failed to tell me, is that the massage and scrub was in public, all in this tiny room. The room was about the size of three standard-sized living rooms put together or something- not very large. Anyways, as you walk in, a large middle-aged (naked) woman comes up to you and very aggressively asks if you want a massage and scrub. When in Rome, right? So we all three agree to get them, and she says she’ll come get us when ready. We shower off and then go sit in the really hot sauna for about 10 minutes. After the sauna, you get in the tub of very cold water for about a minute to cool off, and then you go back into the sauna. You’re supposed to repeat this three times, and then get the massage, but our lady found us first.
It’s funnier with all these details included, but if you don’t want to hear about the aforementioned naked middle-aged woman, skip this. So I get the aggressive lady and I just kind of awkwardly follow her to this large stone slab that’s covered with a pseudo-table cloth. She pours water on it (“cleans”) and instructs me to lie down. I attempt and I don’t get anywhere before she stops me and points to my undies and implies that those are coming off. Ok, fine. So then I get back on and she starts exfoliating my skin like it has never been exfoliated before. In places it had never been exfoliated before. She’s grabbing my legs and shoving them in her chest so she can properly scrub them and whatnot. I turn over and the same happens. Talk about awkward. Then she makes me shower off, and it’s time for the massage. I gave her my body wash and shampoo and she again went to town. It was actually all very worth it, it’s just a bit of shock to be getting rubbed down by a naked woman in a room full of other naked women.
After this we decided we were done for the day and showered off and went back into the changing room. The hamam is the one and only place that Azerbaijani women smoke together. They serve tea and a lot of the women sit around smoking (still naked, by the way).
I’m sure you are all aghast at my daring for doing this, but here the idea of wandering around naked and getting scrubbed down in front of a bunch of people just isn’t a big deal. They kind of have the mindset that everyone has the same parts, why make a big fuss about it. No one cared, and no one was looking.
Lahij
This past weekend some friends and I decided to get out of Baku and explore the outer regions again. We decided to go to this quaint little town called Lahij, roughly three hours away from Baku. To get there, we had to first take a bus out of Baku to a place called Ismayilli and then negotiate a cab ride from there.
I had some particular trouble even getting to the Avtovakzal (the bus station) in the morning. I thought I would be able to do it, no problem, and hopped on a bus. Turns out I was on the wrong one. So I got off and got on another bus. Again, the wrong one. Finally, I boarded my last bus and my friends were calling me asking where I was since there was a bus with three seats going to Ismayilli. I think the more agitated I got, the slower this stupid bus went. I knew I was in the general vicinity of the bus station, but I had no idea why we weren’t approaching it, or where it was. And then I had too much pride to get off my third bus to just take a taxi since I knew it was so close. Another example of Baku and how when you think you’ve got it all figured out, you don’t.
I finally make it to the bus station, beyond irritated. We get on the bus and set off for Ismayilli, however and I got into a better mood. The bus was actually pretty comfortable since we got to sit in the front and we had ample leg room. We were probably loud and annoying the other passengers, since I’ve noticed that Westerners (especially Americans) tend to speak at about 10 decibles louder than everyone else. Oh well.
I won’t describe the whole trip in detail, but there is one thing of note. We stopped at a rest stop in a town called Shamaxi, and on the side of the road there was a caged bear. Absolutely tiny quarters, living in its own filth and meandering from one end of the cage to another. It was heartbreaking. Everyone was standing around gawking at it, and throwing things. Then, they started feeding it coke bottles and amazingly enough, the bear could open the coke bottle and drank the entire thing in one gulp. In the span of 15 minutes the bear probably drank 4 or 5 cokes or fantas, which are terrible enough for human beings, let alone for a wild animal. It was hard for all of us to shake the image of this cage wild bear on the side the road, purely for human entertainment.
So we arrive in Ismayilli, negotiate a cab to take us to Lahij, but then tell the cab driver we want to get some food before we depart. So we sit outside at a teahouse (three Western girls… this is rare in Baku, and we were in an outer region) and get completely stared at, but they were very nice and accommodating. After this, we climbed into our puke-yellow colored Lada and head off to Lahij. Right away, there were almost no roads and we’re barreling down the torn up mountainside. The scenery was truly spectacular though. We went the perfect weekend since the trees were all turning and we were in the midst of hills with gorgeous red, orange, and yellow trees. It was almost like being back in New England.
Once we got to Lahij our cab driver dropped us off in the middle of the village and we literally wandered around until someone came up to us and asked if we needed a place to stay. This is normal, by the way. There actually is a hotel in the village, but we wanted a homestay since you get a better feel for the place, the people, and the food. The houses in the village are all made out of stone with beautiful wooden doors and copper decorations. The town is actually known for its copper and they sell a lot of souvenirs.
So we met our “host family”: husband, wife, two daughters, and a younger son. The husband spoke a bit of Russian so that was our only form of communication. They were super nice and very sweet. They cooked us some amazing food: plov with Iranian milk, meat, and gave us as much tea as possible. The two daughters were 14 and 18, and although we really shared no common language, we all managed to still get along by them showing us pictures and doing a lot of sign language. We collapsed into our warm beds, full and tired to wake up early to traditional Azerbaijani music blasting from their tv around 7 am. Nonetheless, we woke up, got breakfast and wandered again around town. We visited the museum, with a very nice man who was very excited to meet our Norwegian friend since he had been to Norway for a museum conference (random, I know). Then we bought souvenirs for a bit and spent a long time haggling with the vendors. I think I made out pretty decently.
Randomly enough, it turns out an Azerbaijani friend of Helena’s (who I was with) is from Lahij was in town and we randomly ran into him. He invited us over to his family’s house for lunch and then nicely gave us a ride back to Ismayilli. It was a perfect trip, all in all. We had planned on doing some hiking but between the haggling and running into our friend it didn’t end up working out. Lahij would have been a great place to stay for a couple of days and get acclimated to.
I had some particular trouble even getting to the Avtovakzal (the bus station) in the morning. I thought I would be able to do it, no problem, and hopped on a bus. Turns out I was on the wrong one. So I got off and got on another bus. Again, the wrong one. Finally, I boarded my last bus and my friends were calling me asking where I was since there was a bus with three seats going to Ismayilli. I think the more agitated I got, the slower this stupid bus went. I knew I was in the general vicinity of the bus station, but I had no idea why we weren’t approaching it, or where it was. And then I had too much pride to get off my third bus to just take a taxi since I knew it was so close. Another example of Baku and how when you think you’ve got it all figured out, you don’t.
I finally make it to the bus station, beyond irritated. We get on the bus and set off for Ismayilli, however and I got into a better mood. The bus was actually pretty comfortable since we got to sit in the front and we had ample leg room. We were probably loud and annoying the other passengers, since I’ve noticed that Westerners (especially Americans) tend to speak at about 10 decibles louder than everyone else. Oh well.
I won’t describe the whole trip in detail, but there is one thing of note. We stopped at a rest stop in a town called Shamaxi, and on the side of the road there was a caged bear. Absolutely tiny quarters, living in its own filth and meandering from one end of the cage to another. It was heartbreaking. Everyone was standing around gawking at it, and throwing things. Then, they started feeding it coke bottles and amazingly enough, the bear could open the coke bottle and drank the entire thing in one gulp. In the span of 15 minutes the bear probably drank 4 or 5 cokes or fantas, which are terrible enough for human beings, let alone for a wild animal. It was hard for all of us to shake the image of this cage wild bear on the side the road, purely for human entertainment.
So we arrive in Ismayilli, negotiate a cab to take us to Lahij, but then tell the cab driver we want to get some food before we depart. So we sit outside at a teahouse (three Western girls… this is rare in Baku, and we were in an outer region) and get completely stared at, but they were very nice and accommodating. After this, we climbed into our puke-yellow colored Lada and head off to Lahij. Right away, there were almost no roads and we’re barreling down the torn up mountainside. The scenery was truly spectacular though. We went the perfect weekend since the trees were all turning and we were in the midst of hills with gorgeous red, orange, and yellow trees. It was almost like being back in New England.
Once we got to Lahij our cab driver dropped us off in the middle of the village and we literally wandered around until someone came up to us and asked if we needed a place to stay. This is normal, by the way. There actually is a hotel in the village, but we wanted a homestay since you get a better feel for the place, the people, and the food. The houses in the village are all made out of stone with beautiful wooden doors and copper decorations. The town is actually known for its copper and they sell a lot of souvenirs.
So we met our “host family”: husband, wife, two daughters, and a younger son. The husband spoke a bit of Russian so that was our only form of communication. They were super nice and very sweet. They cooked us some amazing food: plov with Iranian milk, meat, and gave us as much tea as possible. The two daughters were 14 and 18, and although we really shared no common language, we all managed to still get along by them showing us pictures and doing a lot of sign language. We collapsed into our warm beds, full and tired to wake up early to traditional Azerbaijani music blasting from their tv around 7 am. Nonetheless, we woke up, got breakfast and wandered again around town. We visited the museum, with a very nice man who was very excited to meet our Norwegian friend since he had been to Norway for a museum conference (random, I know). Then we bought souvenirs for a bit and spent a long time haggling with the vendors. I think I made out pretty decently.
Randomly enough, it turns out an Azerbaijani friend of Helena’s (who I was with) is from Lahij was in town and we randomly ran into him. He invited us over to his family’s house for lunch and then nicely gave us a ride back to Ismayilli. It was a perfect trip, all in all. We had planned on doing some hiking but between the haggling and running into our friend it didn’t end up working out. Lahij would have been a great place to stay for a couple of days and get acclimated to.
Observations Part Vocem'
Clapping: At the end of talks or concerts people generally clap. Same here, except that they all clap in unison. It’s really, really, really funny. And simultaneously really awkward. It sounds like they’re all waiting for something grand or exciting to happen, or maybe to start creepily chanting together. Sometimes I feel like we’re in the middle of a slow-clap but then it never actually surfaces. It’s really strange.
Opera: A bunch of Americans and I have all been wanting to go to the opera and we finally planned a date, this Sunday. On a whim I decided I would go buy the tickets and I would buy them for everyone else. Alone. I don’t know what came over me that I could possibly accomplish this feat since I had no clue where the ticket office was, or what to say. I also realized this en route to the ticket office and that I couldn’t back out now since I was getting five people tickets. I think I was just having one of those confident days. Either that, or I’m just getting better in my abilities in taking on new challenges. I’d like to think it’s the latter, since I didn’t even really prepare anything to say (as I usually do with such tasks in a foreign language like this) I literally just strolled in. Well, once I found it. I had to phone a friend as to where the ticket office was, since it was so clearly marked. (Insert sarcasm there.) Anyways I walk in and start gabbing away with the woman and to my surprise she understands me and I understand her. Again, I tell her where we want to sit, what day, etc etc, and she understands me and I pay her the money, and I successfully bought tickets. I think I was so in shock that I managed this all on my own I stood there for a minute and then left. Anna: 6, Azerbaijan: 2918.
“Opera”: The only snafu in our exchange was the actual word “opera”. It’s funny how we understood each other in everything else except for the one word that is the same in both languages. I kept repeating “opera”, “opera” (in an English accent) and she was staring at me like I escaped from the local loony bin. Finally she realized what I was saying and said this exaggerated “ooooooppppeeerraaaaa”. Yes. That’s what I said.
Tights: All Azerbaijani women wear tights. All the time. Regardless of what they’re wearing or how hot it is. They wear tights underneath their jeans (seriously) and with their heels. They wear tights with skirts. They wear them when it’s 80 degrees out. By tights I really mean stockings, or nylons. But a lot of them do wear black nylons as well. I don’t mind nylons, even though I do think there’s kind of age to start wearing them, but I think that’s an American thing. Anyways, women all wear nylons every day here, and I’m really not in that habit so I refuse. That probably gives them reason to think I’m a prostitute, but where I come from, black tights on a Tuesday morning is not considered normal. Period.
The Metric System: This actually has more to do with the local European and English people I’ve encountered. Whenever we get into a discussion about something involved the metric system, so weight or distance, I always get the same question. They’ll be saying something like “well you get 5 liters to the ounce” and I respond, “I have no idea what that means… many ounces are in a gallon?” And then they’ll give me a disapproving stare and say “Why is it that America hasn’t switched to the metric system yet?” Oh, I don’t know. Let me tell our President that you would like the U.S. to switch and get back to you. Since we’re on a first-name basis and everything. He definitely doesn’t have anything else to worry about… war, economic crisis, falling dollar, nuclear weapons, health care… While it is a valid point that we’re behind everyone on this, complaining to me about it is not going to change anything. They also act like the fact that we’re not on the metric system is personally offending the world.
Suits: I’ve written at great length about what people wear here. I failed to mention that most of the stuff I wrote about was for younger people, generally around my age and younger. Once you hit about 25, I think it’s a requirement for men to wear suits. It doesn’t matter what the occasion is, how hot is it, how cold it is, where you are (desert, mountain, restaurant), you will wear a suit. I doubt the suits here are too expensive since they don’t look like they’re made out of the nicest materials, so I think that men have a variety of different suits. It really is almost comical. On our drive out to Ismayilli, all these men on the side of the road were wearing suits and wandering around in the desert, fixing various things. They couldn’t even take off the sport coat, they had to keep the whole thing on to get the whole look.
The Lada and the Niva: The two best Russian cars ever. Seriously. These babies can withstand just about anything. If you don’t know what a Lada is, google it immediately. They’re a pretty basic car that Russia began to manufacture during the Soviet Union and therefore their legacy is left scattered all throughout the CIS countries. They actually get pretty good gas mileage. As adhering to the true communist principles, there’s nothing fancy or nice about this car, it simply is a vehicle to get you from point A to point B. The most common color is white (I like to think this is also reminiscent of the communist era, in that anything more ostentatious than white sets you apart) but there’s also some lovely puce, maroon, and acid-green colors. Maybe everyone just gets white because the other colors are so ugly. There’s a sedan Lada and also a station-wagon Lada. A close cousin to the Lada is the Niva, which is hard to describe. It has 2 doors and is also simple in it’s design, and almost always comes in white. These two cars can literally get you anywhere you want to go- off-roading, through the mountains, down the street, or up the hill in ice. They’re also illegal in the U.S. since they fail every safety requirement we have. Nonetheless, they are great. They’re pretty prevalent here in Baku, but then they become just about the only cars you see if you leave Baku, which really just adds to their charm. One last thing about the Lada/ Niva: It could be manufactured in 1959 or 2009 and you would never know the difference, except for the rust. They have never once changed the design of the car.
“Staring Steve”: My friend and I came up with this little nickname on the ride out to Ismayilli since we noticed a recurring theme. When cooped up in one of these marshutkas sometimes men will discovered that if they look into their review mirror they can not only see the road behind them (like they’re supposed to) but also the passengers of the car. Shocking discovery, I’m sure. Anyways, sometimes these men decide it would be a great time to creepily STARE at any female they feel like. Sometimes this is the driver, which is an added bonus. Sometimes one of the guys in the passenger seats. Anyways, the best/ worst part about this is that if you catch them staring you (i.e. you make eye contact), they don’t guiltily look away- they just continue on staring. They feel no shame for blatantly staring at you. It’s almost like because it’s through the rearview mirror that it’s allowed and you can’t really catch them. Not so true. Staring Steve is an unfortunate ever-creepy reality here.
Opera: A bunch of Americans and I have all been wanting to go to the opera and we finally planned a date, this Sunday. On a whim I decided I would go buy the tickets and I would buy them for everyone else. Alone. I don’t know what came over me that I could possibly accomplish this feat since I had no clue where the ticket office was, or what to say. I also realized this en route to the ticket office and that I couldn’t back out now since I was getting five people tickets. I think I was just having one of those confident days. Either that, or I’m just getting better in my abilities in taking on new challenges. I’d like to think it’s the latter, since I didn’t even really prepare anything to say (as I usually do with such tasks in a foreign language like this) I literally just strolled in. Well, once I found it. I had to phone a friend as to where the ticket office was, since it was so clearly marked. (Insert sarcasm there.) Anyways I walk in and start gabbing away with the woman and to my surprise she understands me and I understand her. Again, I tell her where we want to sit, what day, etc etc, and she understands me and I pay her the money, and I successfully bought tickets. I think I was so in shock that I managed this all on my own I stood there for a minute and then left. Anna: 6, Azerbaijan: 2918.
“Opera”: The only snafu in our exchange was the actual word “opera”. It’s funny how we understood each other in everything else except for the one word that is the same in both languages. I kept repeating “opera”, “opera” (in an English accent) and she was staring at me like I escaped from the local loony bin. Finally she realized what I was saying and said this exaggerated “ooooooppppeeerraaaaa”. Yes. That’s what I said.
Tights: All Azerbaijani women wear tights. All the time. Regardless of what they’re wearing or how hot it is. They wear tights underneath their jeans (seriously) and with their heels. They wear tights with skirts. They wear them when it’s 80 degrees out. By tights I really mean stockings, or nylons. But a lot of them do wear black nylons as well. I don’t mind nylons, even though I do think there’s kind of age to start wearing them, but I think that’s an American thing. Anyways, women all wear nylons every day here, and I’m really not in that habit so I refuse. That probably gives them reason to think I’m a prostitute, but where I come from, black tights on a Tuesday morning is not considered normal. Period.
The Metric System: This actually has more to do with the local European and English people I’ve encountered. Whenever we get into a discussion about something involved the metric system, so weight or distance, I always get the same question. They’ll be saying something like “well you get 5 liters to the ounce” and I respond, “I have no idea what that means… many ounces are in a gallon?” And then they’ll give me a disapproving stare and say “Why is it that America hasn’t switched to the metric system yet?” Oh, I don’t know. Let me tell our President that you would like the U.S. to switch and get back to you. Since we’re on a first-name basis and everything. He definitely doesn’t have anything else to worry about… war, economic crisis, falling dollar, nuclear weapons, health care… While it is a valid point that we’re behind everyone on this, complaining to me about it is not going to change anything. They also act like the fact that we’re not on the metric system is personally offending the world.
Suits: I’ve written at great length about what people wear here. I failed to mention that most of the stuff I wrote about was for younger people, generally around my age and younger. Once you hit about 25, I think it’s a requirement for men to wear suits. It doesn’t matter what the occasion is, how hot is it, how cold it is, where you are (desert, mountain, restaurant), you will wear a suit. I doubt the suits here are too expensive since they don’t look like they’re made out of the nicest materials, so I think that men have a variety of different suits. It really is almost comical. On our drive out to Ismayilli, all these men on the side of the road were wearing suits and wandering around in the desert, fixing various things. They couldn’t even take off the sport coat, they had to keep the whole thing on to get the whole look.
The Lada and the Niva: The two best Russian cars ever. Seriously. These babies can withstand just about anything. If you don’t know what a Lada is, google it immediately. They’re a pretty basic car that Russia began to manufacture during the Soviet Union and therefore their legacy is left scattered all throughout the CIS countries. They actually get pretty good gas mileage. As adhering to the true communist principles, there’s nothing fancy or nice about this car, it simply is a vehicle to get you from point A to point B. The most common color is white (I like to think this is also reminiscent of the communist era, in that anything more ostentatious than white sets you apart) but there’s also some lovely puce, maroon, and acid-green colors. Maybe everyone just gets white because the other colors are so ugly. There’s a sedan Lada and also a station-wagon Lada. A close cousin to the Lada is the Niva, which is hard to describe. It has 2 doors and is also simple in it’s design, and almost always comes in white. These two cars can literally get you anywhere you want to go- off-roading, through the mountains, down the street, or up the hill in ice. They’re also illegal in the U.S. since they fail every safety requirement we have. Nonetheless, they are great. They’re pretty prevalent here in Baku, but then they become just about the only cars you see if you leave Baku, which really just adds to their charm. One last thing about the Lada/ Niva: It could be manufactured in 1959 or 2009 and you would never know the difference, except for the rust. They have never once changed the design of the car.
“Staring Steve”: My friend and I came up with this little nickname on the ride out to Ismayilli since we noticed a recurring theme. When cooped up in one of these marshutkas sometimes men will discovered that if they look into their review mirror they can not only see the road behind them (like they’re supposed to) but also the passengers of the car. Shocking discovery, I’m sure. Anyways, sometimes these men decide it would be a great time to creepily STARE at any female they feel like. Sometimes this is the driver, which is an added bonus. Sometimes one of the guys in the passenger seats. Anyways, the best/ worst part about this is that if you catch them staring you (i.e. you make eye contact), they don’t guiltily look away- they just continue on staring. They feel no shame for blatantly staring at you. It’s almost like because it’s through the rearview mirror that it’s allowed and you can’t really catch them. Not so true. Staring Steve is an unfortunate ever-creepy reality here.
Monday, October 12, 2009
"I like you."
Quick story.
So tonight I stopped at the fruit stand across the street to pick up some pomegranates. (Duh.) As I'm happily walking away, the seller starts speaking in Azerbaijani and gesturing to the tomatoes. Since it was about 8:30 at night I thought maybe he wanted to get rid of them and was going to give them to me for free or something so I stuck around and tried to figure out what he was saying.
I had tried speaking in Russian with him during my pomegranate exchange but I realized he doesn't speak a lick of Russian. He starts jabbering away in Azerbaijani and I give up and switch to English, hoping he'll recognize the key phrase such as "I don't understand you". He's still gesturing to the tomatoes, and I'm still hoping I'll get them for free. Then he realizes my language and goes, "English?" so I reply "yes!". He slowly starts trying to piece together a sentence. It starts with, "I know..." (long pause and confusion) then, "I like you." So I'm trying to figure out what this could possibly mean and what it has to do with the tomatoes. I was hoping he had gotten confused about the language and what the words meant, so I continue to stick around. It continues like this:
Him: Where do you live?
(I point.)
Him: I like you.
Me: Uh. Ok.
Him: Do you understand?
Me: (confused) Maybe?
Him: I like you.
Me: (silent.)
Him: You... like me?
Me: (still silent.)
Him: I like you.
Me: Uhh. I don't know you?
(I'm still looking at the tomatoes, by the way.)
He sticks out his hand, so I try to shake it. Then he doesn't let go and starts pulling me towards him and giving me this really strange smile.
I pretty much ran away after this. I yank my hand back, yell "thanks/ goodbye" (they're the same word) in Azerbaijani and literally book it around some cars and run across the street. I'm still trying to figure this one out. If it was just a total language miscommunication... or if he thought he would be getting something more. Regardless, I'm a bit creeped out, and I refuse to go back to the fruit stand unless it's the nice old man again.
So tonight I stopped at the fruit stand across the street to pick up some pomegranates. (Duh.) As I'm happily walking away, the seller starts speaking in Azerbaijani and gesturing to the tomatoes. Since it was about 8:30 at night I thought maybe he wanted to get rid of them and was going to give them to me for free or something so I stuck around and tried to figure out what he was saying.
I had tried speaking in Russian with him during my pomegranate exchange but I realized he doesn't speak a lick of Russian. He starts jabbering away in Azerbaijani and I give up and switch to English, hoping he'll recognize the key phrase such as "I don't understand you". He's still gesturing to the tomatoes, and I'm still hoping I'll get them for free. Then he realizes my language and goes, "English?" so I reply "yes!". He slowly starts trying to piece together a sentence. It starts with, "I know..." (long pause and confusion) then, "I like you." So I'm trying to figure out what this could possibly mean and what it has to do with the tomatoes. I was hoping he had gotten confused about the language and what the words meant, so I continue to stick around. It continues like this:
Him: Where do you live?
(I point.)
Him: I like you.
Me: Uh. Ok.
Him: Do you understand?
Me: (confused) Maybe?
Him: I like you.
Me: (silent.)
Him: You... like me?
Me: (still silent.)
Him: I like you.
Me: Uhh. I don't know you?
(I'm still looking at the tomatoes, by the way.)
He sticks out his hand, so I try to shake it. Then he doesn't let go and starts pulling me towards him and giving me this really strange smile.
I pretty much ran away after this. I yank my hand back, yell "thanks/ goodbye" (they're the same word) in Azerbaijani and literally book it around some cars and run across the street. I'm still trying to figure this one out. If it was just a total language miscommunication... or if he thought he would be getting something more. Regardless, I'm a bit creeped out, and I refuse to go back to the fruit stand unless it's the nice old man again.
Aerodynamics, Physics, Information technology... EFFFF.
What have I gotten myself into? Today was probably the funniest day I’ve had so far.
So I’ve written a little bit about how I don’t have much of a set schedule/ classes at the Academy- it’s all a bit disorganized and I tend to do whatever they tell me 10 minutes in advance. If that’s how they choose to use me, it’s fine, I just don’t think it’s the best way for their students to learn any English. So I told the guy who’s kind of in charge of me and his department whisked me off today to a separate department. Read on.
I’m taken into the Dean of the Pilots’ office and I sit down and start speaking with him. His English is like my Russian- he can understand it but can’t express himself too well. So we communicated by him speaking in Russian, and me responding in English. I actually understood about 80% of what he and the Vice Rector were saying, which was a mild accomplishment. Anyways, they’ve started a new program where they’re training all the pilots completely in English. They did their first year of school in Turkey where they studied intensive English, and now they’re taking all their coursework in English. In order to fly a plane outside Azerbaijan, they have to pass a certain level of English so it’s really imperative that they study English and speak it as much as possible.
Therefore, since they’re launching this new program, the dean wants to make sure that all is going smoothly. This is where I come in. They’ve decided that I’m going to sit in on their classes, talk to the students, talk to the professors, observe the classes, and lead a group with the students to help them with any and all problems and just to generally improve their English. It will be the same group of 15 students every day, which is relieving, so I can finally learn people’s names and have an impact on one group of people.
Anyways, to top this all off today, they bring me into a room where the students are taking a lesson in aerodynamics. I walk in and the rectors are like, “ask them questions!” to which I stand there dumbly and just ask “uhh… so who can explain aerodynamics to me?” and they all give me blank stares. I don’t even know what aerodynamics means, let alone what the class is supposed to consist of. So the I sit down, and the professor starts showing me some slides and I briefly glimpse the words ‘gravity’, ‘velocity’, ‘mass’ and my heart just starts sinking. Side note: I am absolutely horrible at science. Really terrible… the concepts always manage to escape my understanding. The annoying thing is that I’m actually really good at math and I really enjoy math, so realistically physics and math should go hand in hand, but not for me. Of all the sciences I’ve studied I am worst at physics. And it turns out aerodynamics is about physics. Lovely.
So I’m sitting there seriously just kind of smiling and trying to hold back my laughter that I’m in this situation. And in my head I’m trying to think of plan b, plan c and plan d on what to do with myself. The professor was speaking in English explaining aerodynamics but then he would break off into Azerbaijani to explain it better to the students. I was completely and utterly lost, and these 19 year old boys kept glancing back at me, terrified to speak in English in front of an American woman.
So then, at the end of the lesson, the professor goes, “ok, so this is the end. Will you quiz them now on aerodynamics?”, to which I actually think I started laughing (smooth move). I told him I didn’t understand anything about aerodynamics, which at first he took as an insult to his lesson. His English wasn’t very good, and he kept telling me he couldn’t understand me because I’m an American and my accent (more on that in a bit), so there were some communication problems. So then he starts saying, “well, you’re an aerodynamics specialist, right?” Oh god. Panic. No. So then I slowly tried to explain that I studied IR in college, not aerodynamics, and I hadn’t studied physics for about 5 years. The students got wind of what I was saying all started laughing. Great. So then the professor finally realized I can understand Russian, so he launches off into some lecture about aerodynamics and the students and all this stuff, to which I just smile and nod and start to block out after 5 minutes of desperately trying to understand.
Anyways I depart and go back to the rector’s office and he tells me all the different classes I’m going to be sitting in on and observing. He said I don’t have to stay the whole time (thank G), especially if it’s particularly boring or slow. They know I’m an IR major (although the professors aren’t clued into that yet) so I’m not totally into the subject. They just want me to observe how well the classes are going, the teachers, students, English level usage, which I can do. I can also help out the teacher rephrase questions, or maybe correct pronunciation and stuff. But I’m going to be sitting in on several different classes that are all technical and completely over my head.
This is what I kind of thought I would be doing in the first place, so I had already semi-braced myself for this kind of situation. It’s just hilarious to have actually lived through it. Just imagine my face when these guys started talking about aerodynamics- what does that even mean?! I must have been sitting there like a total deer in the headlights. I have a feeling these future adventures with this are going to be interesting. Maybe I’ll master physics… but I really wouldn’t count on it.
Anyways, about the American accent thing, most people here seem to be trained in British English, and it’s incredibly difficult for them to understand American accents. The teachers told me that American accents are actually easier to learn for people trying to learn English, but they have to start out learning it. If they learn British English first, then they have a really tough time understanding me. I have to make sure not to slur my words together and pronounce all vowels, although they still don’t understand me half the times. I’ve had a couple Azerbaijanis tell me that they understand me really well compared to other people, and this must be because they’ve studied American English. The other day I was with some students and I said “oh, there’s a lot of stuff there” (or something like that) and it took them a couple minutes to figure out I meant “a lot of” since I pretty much combined all of the words together, which I didn’t even notice. Add in my regional accent of Boston/ New England, and I’m dropping consonants and syllables, and adding random stresses. It makes speaking to them about five times harder.
A last side note- there’s been one woman pilot in Azerbaijan’s history (ever) and she was a Russian. So, the idea that these boys are going to have a female sitting in on their classes is totally new to them. Yessssss.
So I’ve written a little bit about how I don’t have much of a set schedule/ classes at the Academy- it’s all a bit disorganized and I tend to do whatever they tell me 10 minutes in advance. If that’s how they choose to use me, it’s fine, I just don’t think it’s the best way for their students to learn any English. So I told the guy who’s kind of in charge of me and his department whisked me off today to a separate department. Read on.
I’m taken into the Dean of the Pilots’ office and I sit down and start speaking with him. His English is like my Russian- he can understand it but can’t express himself too well. So we communicated by him speaking in Russian, and me responding in English. I actually understood about 80% of what he and the Vice Rector were saying, which was a mild accomplishment. Anyways, they’ve started a new program where they’re training all the pilots completely in English. They did their first year of school in Turkey where they studied intensive English, and now they’re taking all their coursework in English. In order to fly a plane outside Azerbaijan, they have to pass a certain level of English so it’s really imperative that they study English and speak it as much as possible.
Therefore, since they’re launching this new program, the dean wants to make sure that all is going smoothly. This is where I come in. They’ve decided that I’m going to sit in on their classes, talk to the students, talk to the professors, observe the classes, and lead a group with the students to help them with any and all problems and just to generally improve their English. It will be the same group of 15 students every day, which is relieving, so I can finally learn people’s names and have an impact on one group of people.
Anyways, to top this all off today, they bring me into a room where the students are taking a lesson in aerodynamics. I walk in and the rectors are like, “ask them questions!” to which I stand there dumbly and just ask “uhh… so who can explain aerodynamics to me?” and they all give me blank stares. I don’t even know what aerodynamics means, let alone what the class is supposed to consist of. So the I sit down, and the professor starts showing me some slides and I briefly glimpse the words ‘gravity’, ‘velocity’, ‘mass’ and my heart just starts sinking. Side note: I am absolutely horrible at science. Really terrible… the concepts always manage to escape my understanding. The annoying thing is that I’m actually really good at math and I really enjoy math, so realistically physics and math should go hand in hand, but not for me. Of all the sciences I’ve studied I am worst at physics. And it turns out aerodynamics is about physics. Lovely.
So I’m sitting there seriously just kind of smiling and trying to hold back my laughter that I’m in this situation. And in my head I’m trying to think of plan b, plan c and plan d on what to do with myself. The professor was speaking in English explaining aerodynamics but then he would break off into Azerbaijani to explain it better to the students. I was completely and utterly lost, and these 19 year old boys kept glancing back at me, terrified to speak in English in front of an American woman.
So then, at the end of the lesson, the professor goes, “ok, so this is the end. Will you quiz them now on aerodynamics?”, to which I actually think I started laughing (smooth move). I told him I didn’t understand anything about aerodynamics, which at first he took as an insult to his lesson. His English wasn’t very good, and he kept telling me he couldn’t understand me because I’m an American and my accent (more on that in a bit), so there were some communication problems. So then he starts saying, “well, you’re an aerodynamics specialist, right?” Oh god. Panic. No. So then I slowly tried to explain that I studied IR in college, not aerodynamics, and I hadn’t studied physics for about 5 years. The students got wind of what I was saying all started laughing. Great. So then the professor finally realized I can understand Russian, so he launches off into some lecture about aerodynamics and the students and all this stuff, to which I just smile and nod and start to block out after 5 minutes of desperately trying to understand.
Anyways I depart and go back to the rector’s office and he tells me all the different classes I’m going to be sitting in on and observing. He said I don’t have to stay the whole time (thank G), especially if it’s particularly boring or slow. They know I’m an IR major (although the professors aren’t clued into that yet) so I’m not totally into the subject. They just want me to observe how well the classes are going, the teachers, students, English level usage, which I can do. I can also help out the teacher rephrase questions, or maybe correct pronunciation and stuff. But I’m going to be sitting in on several different classes that are all technical and completely over my head.
This is what I kind of thought I would be doing in the first place, so I had already semi-braced myself for this kind of situation. It’s just hilarious to have actually lived through it. Just imagine my face when these guys started talking about aerodynamics- what does that even mean?! I must have been sitting there like a total deer in the headlights. I have a feeling these future adventures with this are going to be interesting. Maybe I’ll master physics… but I really wouldn’t count on it.
Anyways, about the American accent thing, most people here seem to be trained in British English, and it’s incredibly difficult for them to understand American accents. The teachers told me that American accents are actually easier to learn for people trying to learn English, but they have to start out learning it. If they learn British English first, then they have a really tough time understanding me. I have to make sure not to slur my words together and pronounce all vowels, although they still don’t understand me half the times. I’ve had a couple Azerbaijanis tell me that they understand me really well compared to other people, and this must be because they’ve studied American English. The other day I was with some students and I said “oh, there’s a lot of stuff there” (or something like that) and it took them a couple minutes to figure out I meant “a lot of” since I pretty much combined all of the words together, which I didn’t even notice. Add in my regional accent of Boston/ New England, and I’m dropping consonants and syllables, and adding random stresses. It makes speaking to them about five times harder.
A last side note- there’s been one woman pilot in Azerbaijan’s history (ever) and she was a Russian. So, the idea that these boys are going to have a female sitting in on their classes is totally new to them. Yessssss.
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Construction
Everywhere in Baku is under construction. Literally. I've been here over a month and I've seen streets and buildings change before my eyes. I actually got my first preview to the Baku construction within my first hour of being in Azerbaijan. When I landed at the airport, the Embassy driver got us a bit lost trying to get to my apartment and started talking about how the construction changed all the routes so he ended up going the wrong way. I gamely agreed with him at the time and privately wondered if it was his macho way of trying to cover up getting lost. However, it turns out he was just being honest. A different road is torn up and closed down every other day, and if you don't go a certain way for a couple days once you return you will inevitably find something has changed. This is why the buses are always going different routes too. For about a week my trusty bus was going to weirdest routes since one of the main streets was closed, including hurdling down a gigantic one-way street and getting honked at the whole time. Sometimes I think they reverse the directions of the streets according to what day it is.
This is all part of a big project, I believe, to re-vamp Baku and make it prettier/ easier to walk around in/ attract more tourists. The Boulevard as I know it has only been this way for about a year, apparently it recently used to be a more shady area of town, and now it's super family-friendly and attractive. Even as I've been here, they're changing the Bulvar, tearing up the sidewalks and re-doing it and adding more trees and plants. They've been doing a lot of re-paving on the streets as well. Also, they've been re-doing a lot of the parks and fountain areas. This includes the main area of Baku called Fountain Square. This is the epicenter of town, and yet I've never seen it since it's completely surrounded by walls because of all the construction they're doing on it. Hopefully it will be done while I'm here and I get to see the new and improved Fountain Square before I leave.
These walls are also characteristic of Baku. You can see them in some of the pictures I put up on Facebook. They have advertisements of the different landmarks of the city on them, or what the new areas are proposed to look like. There's tons of walled-in areas all over the place. In addition to construction on parks and streets, there's also a fair amount of construction on buildings. In one area near Fountain Square, all the buildings are surrounded by scaffolding and you have to actually worry that wooden planks might fall on your head. A lot of the apartment buildings and other various buildings are undergoing such construction. The one thing about Baku though, is that they're much more efficient with their construction than anywhere I've observed in the States. I also come from Boston where the Big Dig took about 15 years to complete. As I said, they can finish certain areas of construction here within days. Sometimes they'll re-pave a street in a day. Or at least that's how it seems to me. I've heard some people complain about how it takes forever for any construction to get finished, but I think that some of it gets done relatively quickly.
The eternal joke here is that everything is under construction. I think once someone tried to give me directions with "the building that's under construction" and then they realized the fallacy of their statement. I like to think that it's indicative of the direction that Baku and Azerbaijan are moving in though. Most of the city is urban and modern and with continued construction, it can only continue to improve.
This is all part of a big project, I believe, to re-vamp Baku and make it prettier/ easier to walk around in/ attract more tourists. The Boulevard as I know it has only been this way for about a year, apparently it recently used to be a more shady area of town, and now it's super family-friendly and attractive. Even as I've been here, they're changing the Bulvar, tearing up the sidewalks and re-doing it and adding more trees and plants. They've been doing a lot of re-paving on the streets as well. Also, they've been re-doing a lot of the parks and fountain areas. This includes the main area of Baku called Fountain Square. This is the epicenter of town, and yet I've never seen it since it's completely surrounded by walls because of all the construction they're doing on it. Hopefully it will be done while I'm here and I get to see the new and improved Fountain Square before I leave.
These walls are also characteristic of Baku. You can see them in some of the pictures I put up on Facebook. They have advertisements of the different landmarks of the city on them, or what the new areas are proposed to look like. There's tons of walled-in areas all over the place. In addition to construction on parks and streets, there's also a fair amount of construction on buildings. In one area near Fountain Square, all the buildings are surrounded by scaffolding and you have to actually worry that wooden planks might fall on your head. A lot of the apartment buildings and other various buildings are undergoing such construction. The one thing about Baku though, is that they're much more efficient with their construction than anywhere I've observed in the States. I also come from Boston where the Big Dig took about 15 years to complete. As I said, they can finish certain areas of construction here within days. Sometimes they'll re-pave a street in a day. Or at least that's how it seems to me. I've heard some people complain about how it takes forever for any construction to get finished, but I think that some of it gets done relatively quickly.
The eternal joke here is that everything is under construction. I think once someone tried to give me directions with "the building that's under construction" and then they realized the fallacy of their statement. I like to think that it's indicative of the direction that Baku and Azerbaijan are moving in though. Most of the city is urban and modern and with continued construction, it can only continue to improve.
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