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.
Observations Part Sem'
The evil eye: This is a custom that pertains to Islam and the surrounding regions that has manifested itself here. Everyone has evil eye pariphernelia. Which is actually a bit humorous, since it was trendy about a year ago in the states to have evil eye bracelets and whatnot. Anyways, there's tons of evil eye stuff here. Almost every single car, literally, has an evil eye doohiggy hanging from the rearview mirror. Sometimes it will simply be a glass eye, or sometimes it will be a furry ball with a little evil eye in the middle. Surprisingly, the furry ball is really popular, especially in taxicabs. A lot of times it will also be a little furry animal with the evil eye. I was looking at some of my co-workers' babies' pictures and I noticed that the babies all had little evil eyes pinned to their clothing. One of my first days here I bought an evil eye keychain for my keys, so apparently I fit in well as a Bakuvian.
Snake: I went to a club the other night for salsa dancing with the group, which was a pretty enjoyable experience. It was cool to see what these creepy clubs actually look like underground. Anyways, when I walked in, there were two huge snakes in this giant glass cage. It was probably an animal rights’ activist’s worst nightmare. When the music started pumping later, the snakes (obviously woken up) were angrily moving around. Woof.
Clubs: I realize that I haven’t spoken about these said creepy clubs. All over Baku, (about one per block) there’s a large sign that says “DISKO” with bright lights. These clubs all have totally creep-tastic names too. Like “Klub Blackbird”, “Klub Nightingale”, “Klub Marisa”, “Princess Klub”, etc. Whenever you walk past, there’s a creepy man standing outside smoking, and loud music pumping. All of these clubs are in basements as well. And the best part, is that regardless if it’s 2 pm or 2 am, the music is blasting. It’s really weird to be walking past one at 11 am and see 15 year old boys exiting from one. By the way, respectable women don’t go to these clubs. If you get my drift.
Washing cars: Just like everywhere else in the word where automobiles exist, men have an obsession with their cars. Here, they manifest that obsession in making sure that they clean their cars as often as possible. So men will pull their cars up on the sidewalks and walk into the nearest store (or random man with a bucket and sponge) and get a bunch of water and spend 30 minutes yakking away with fellow men and washing his car. Nevermind that the water is completely gray. They also take any available hose they can find on the street (which are surprisingly pretty frequent) and hose down their car. This makes walking on the already haphazard sidewalks quite the spectacle.
Dust: While Baku is known for their wind, along with the wind comes dust. I have no idea what kind of climate Baku is (even though a quick google search would tell me) but it’s super dusty. There’s a pseudo-desert in the surrounding area of the city. Essentially, wherever you walk your clothes will inevitably get covered in dust and dirt. Upon arrival at home, my black flats are a strange brown-gray color.
Shoes: I’ve already commented on men’s shoes, but I just want to reiterate the shoes thing. People here take great pride in their shoes, I think. I’ve rarely seen anyone wear flip flops or sneakers. Sometimes younger guys or girls will wear sneakers or a more casual shoe. The women all wear about 4-5 inch heels everywhere. To the store, walking around, to school, to class, to their work… I have no idea how they function in those things. Some women do wear flats though. When I’ve worn my heels out on the streets I noticed that they got torn up pretty quick, which made me wonder how women can afford to wear heels everywhere. It turns out in the metro they sell shoes for about 6-7 manat (like 7-8 dollars) and I think this is where women buy their shoes. They must buy them pretty frequently.
Coffee: I haven’t remarked on this since I’m probably one of the few people left in the Western world not addicted to coffee. I’ll indulge in the occasional coolatta or something if I’m feeling tired and need energy, but I don’t particularly like the taste of coffee. For everyone else here who survives on it, Baku is a personal form of torture. People don’t drink coffee (ever) and they drink tea instead. There are no places to simply buy coffee on the run. My roommate laments the fact that she has to use instant coffee (which I discovered means mixing powder into hot water… sounds disgusting and she says it is). There are a couple ex-pat places in Baku where you can get any kind of coffee you like, but for a price. It’s about 5 manat for a cup of coffee (and not like the grande or whatever pretentious term Starbucks uses these days), aka 6 manat. And you can’t get it ‘to go’ or anything, you sit and drink your hot coffee. There’s about six of these places in Baku, I’m guessing.
Restaurants: Per most countries in this area, going out to eat to a sit-down restaurant is a big production and a big deal. In the States we’re used to eating out at least once or twice a week, if not more. In college especially, I know my roommates and I would go out often, sometimes for both lunch and dinner. It’s not expensive in the U.S. However, here it’s completely different. People don’t go out to restaurants often and they will only go if there’s a reason to celebrate. If you go out to a restaurant, the party is likely to stay for a long time, drinking, eating, getting various different courses, and chatting. Since they do this, the bill is always pretty high, hence why they never go out to eat. Since Americans aren’t used to this style of eating, I’ll still go out to restaurants with my other ex-pat friends but it’s always a little pricey (compared to the States) and the restaurants are pretty deserted. I think it is beginning to change, but it’s definitely much more expensive to eat out than eating at home.
Language: This is a quick side note. I’m going to do a whole post on language in a bit, since there’s so many different aspects to language and learning and English that I’m discovering here, so stay tuned for that one. However, here in Azerbaijan most people can speak both Azerbaijani and Russian (which is pretty impressive, I think). I heard from one of my American friends that it’s considered cool to be able to mix the two in conversation. It’s their version of slang, who can combine the two languages in the coolest way.
Beruit: No, not the city. Since I’m a New England gal I refer to this drinking game as ‘beruit’, but others call is ‘beer pong’. Regardless of the fight over what the correct name is, some of the students here have heard of this game. Clearly, they don’t call it Beruit, as that’s a well-known city in this part of the world. Anyways, I had some students ask me how to play beer pong and had me explain the rules. I love the things that they know about American culture. Along this note, they asked me about other American drinking games, although I don’t think they get the whole idea of binge drinking that Americans engage in and how utterly different it is from here. At this point I was trying to explain college life and house parties and fraternities. Explaining the concept of fraternities to foreigners is probably one of the hardest things to do. Considering it was such a big part of my life for three years, I feel like I need to mention it when I talk about college life. But if you really think about it- why in the world would a group of guys/ girls pay to be in a club together, do charity work yet get hazed, and randomly decide that they would use the Greek alphabet to distinguish between different said clubs? They give me the weirdest looks when I attempt to describe Greek life. I think it’s a losing battle, honestly.
Azerbaijani time: I apologize to any Azerbaijani who stumbles across this blog right now- I know this is not true for everyone. But as a general rule, I’ve noticed that things here start on “Azeri time”… read: always late. You never have to be worry about being late, since everyone mozies in late anyways and whatever event starts about thirty minutes later than scheduled. In a way, it’s good, since you can pretty much depend on this to happen. I’ve also noticed that Azeris tend to get their day started a bit later than we’re used to. For example, the buses/ metro are never crowded at 8 or 9 am, but they’re always packed at 2 pm. Stores don’t open until 10/ 11 am, as with offices and some business. Personally, I love this since I despise waking up early. If I had my way, the business day would start at 10:30.
-Stan: ‘Stan’ means ‘region/ place’. So, that’s why Afghanistan, Kazakhstan, Turkmenistan, Pakistan, etc, all have the suffix ‘stan’ at the end. It means the place of Afghans. I never put that one together before.
-Jan: Jan means ‘body’. So the name Azerbaijan means the body of Azeris. So when they say Azerbaijan it’s like they’re saying “our body”.
Drunk: There’s a Russian symbol for saying that someone is drunk that is also used in Azerbaijan. I actually never noticed it in Russia and it took one of the other Americans here pointing it out to me and then I started noticing other people using it here. The gesture is by flicking your forefinger and thumb together (like when you flick a speck of dirt off a table or something) at the side of the bottom of your neck. So you use this symbol when talking about someone. For example if I were to talk about a neighbor (not that I have any drunk neighbors, by the way) and I started flicking my neck, it would be a kind of unsaid way of saying ‘he’s a drunk’.
Americans: I already mentioned I received a free cab ride once for being a nice American girl and speaking in Russian with my cab driver. I got my second free cab ride last night. I'm starting to realize that people here are so fascinated with Americans (even compared with foreigners in general- if I were to say I was from an EU country I doubt I would get the free ride) that they want to make a good impression. This might also have something to do with the fact that I'm young, female, and I'm not married. Regardless, it really makes you think how lucky you are just for being born in a certain country.
Anyways, in other unrelated news, our tv is no longer working and we have bugs in our bathroom. I've given up on the tv, although we're thinking of buying a DVD player. About the bugs... I have no idea what to do. It started off with a big black beetle that I assume is some sort of water bug since it only lives in the bathroom. Unfortunately, it's begun to spawn and I saw a baby bug the other night. We bought some Raid stuff but it hasn't done the trick. If anyone has any other suggestions... please help. I walk into the bathroom each day with trepidation. They only come out at night, which is the weird part.
I have loads of other stuff to update on- life, what I've been up, my job, new internship, various people I've been meeting. Life has been good though. I've really been enjoying my time here, and I love all the stuff I've been learning about life, and through hearing other people's views on the world. Since I'm an American, people love to talk to me about all sorts of things and 'enlighten' me on their views. I find this all fascinating, and they don't seem to mind me asking as many questions as I can think of. It truly validates the reason that I'm here. It makes me realize how important this experience is, and how thankful I am. I've been here a month and a half and I can only imagine what knowledge I'm going to leaving with in 8 months.
I'll update again hopefully soon... once I finish cleaning this apartment and doing various other chores.
Snake: I went to a club the other night for salsa dancing with the group, which was a pretty enjoyable experience. It was cool to see what these creepy clubs actually look like underground. Anyways, when I walked in, there were two huge snakes in this giant glass cage. It was probably an animal rights’ activist’s worst nightmare. When the music started pumping later, the snakes (obviously woken up) were angrily moving around. Woof.
Clubs: I realize that I haven’t spoken about these said creepy clubs. All over Baku, (about one per block) there’s a large sign that says “DISKO” with bright lights. These clubs all have totally creep-tastic names too. Like “Klub Blackbird”, “Klub Nightingale”, “Klub Marisa”, “Princess Klub”, etc. Whenever you walk past, there’s a creepy man standing outside smoking, and loud music pumping. All of these clubs are in basements as well. And the best part, is that regardless if it’s 2 pm or 2 am, the music is blasting. It’s really weird to be walking past one at 11 am and see 15 year old boys exiting from one. By the way, respectable women don’t go to these clubs. If you get my drift.
Washing cars: Just like everywhere else in the word where automobiles exist, men have an obsession with their cars. Here, they manifest that obsession in making sure that they clean their cars as often as possible. So men will pull their cars up on the sidewalks and walk into the nearest store (or random man with a bucket and sponge) and get a bunch of water and spend 30 minutes yakking away with fellow men and washing his car. Nevermind that the water is completely gray. They also take any available hose they can find on the street (which are surprisingly pretty frequent) and hose down their car. This makes walking on the already haphazard sidewalks quite the spectacle.
Dust: While Baku is known for their wind, along with the wind comes dust. I have no idea what kind of climate Baku is (even though a quick google search would tell me) but it’s super dusty. There’s a pseudo-desert in the surrounding area of the city. Essentially, wherever you walk your clothes will inevitably get covered in dust and dirt. Upon arrival at home, my black flats are a strange brown-gray color.
Shoes: I’ve already commented on men’s shoes, but I just want to reiterate the shoes thing. People here take great pride in their shoes, I think. I’ve rarely seen anyone wear flip flops or sneakers. Sometimes younger guys or girls will wear sneakers or a more casual shoe. The women all wear about 4-5 inch heels everywhere. To the store, walking around, to school, to class, to their work… I have no idea how they function in those things. Some women do wear flats though. When I’ve worn my heels out on the streets I noticed that they got torn up pretty quick, which made me wonder how women can afford to wear heels everywhere. It turns out in the metro they sell shoes for about 6-7 manat (like 7-8 dollars) and I think this is where women buy their shoes. They must buy them pretty frequently.
Coffee: I haven’t remarked on this since I’m probably one of the few people left in the Western world not addicted to coffee. I’ll indulge in the occasional coolatta or something if I’m feeling tired and need energy, but I don’t particularly like the taste of coffee. For everyone else here who survives on it, Baku is a personal form of torture. People don’t drink coffee (ever) and they drink tea instead. There are no places to simply buy coffee on the run. My roommate laments the fact that she has to use instant coffee (which I discovered means mixing powder into hot water… sounds disgusting and she says it is). There are a couple ex-pat places in Baku where you can get any kind of coffee you like, but for a price. It’s about 5 manat for a cup of coffee (and not like the grande or whatever pretentious term Starbucks uses these days), aka 6 manat. And you can’t get it ‘to go’ or anything, you sit and drink your hot coffee. There’s about six of these places in Baku, I’m guessing.
Restaurants: Per most countries in this area, going out to eat to a sit-down restaurant is a big production and a big deal. In the States we’re used to eating out at least once or twice a week, if not more. In college especially, I know my roommates and I would go out often, sometimes for both lunch and dinner. It’s not expensive in the U.S. However, here it’s completely different. People don’t go out to restaurants often and they will only go if there’s a reason to celebrate. If you go out to a restaurant, the party is likely to stay for a long time, drinking, eating, getting various different courses, and chatting. Since they do this, the bill is always pretty high, hence why they never go out to eat. Since Americans aren’t used to this style of eating, I’ll still go out to restaurants with my other ex-pat friends but it’s always a little pricey (compared to the States) and the restaurants are pretty deserted. I think it is beginning to change, but it’s definitely much more expensive to eat out than eating at home.
Language: This is a quick side note. I’m going to do a whole post on language in a bit, since there’s so many different aspects to language and learning and English that I’m discovering here, so stay tuned for that one. However, here in Azerbaijan most people can speak both Azerbaijani and Russian (which is pretty impressive, I think). I heard from one of my American friends that it’s considered cool to be able to mix the two in conversation. It’s their version of slang, who can combine the two languages in the coolest way.
Beruit: No, not the city. Since I’m a New England gal I refer to this drinking game as ‘beruit’, but others call is ‘beer pong’. Regardless of the fight over what the correct name is, some of the students here have heard of this game. Clearly, they don’t call it Beruit, as that’s a well-known city in this part of the world. Anyways, I had some students ask me how to play beer pong and had me explain the rules. I love the things that they know about American culture. Along this note, they asked me about other American drinking games, although I don’t think they get the whole idea of binge drinking that Americans engage in and how utterly different it is from here. At this point I was trying to explain college life and house parties and fraternities. Explaining the concept of fraternities to foreigners is probably one of the hardest things to do. Considering it was such a big part of my life for three years, I feel like I need to mention it when I talk about college life. But if you really think about it- why in the world would a group of guys/ girls pay to be in a club together, do charity work yet get hazed, and randomly decide that they would use the Greek alphabet to distinguish between different said clubs? They give me the weirdest looks when I attempt to describe Greek life. I think it’s a losing battle, honestly.
Azerbaijani time: I apologize to any Azerbaijani who stumbles across this blog right now- I know this is not true for everyone. But as a general rule, I’ve noticed that things here start on “Azeri time”… read: always late. You never have to be worry about being late, since everyone mozies in late anyways and whatever event starts about thirty minutes later than scheduled. In a way, it’s good, since you can pretty much depend on this to happen. I’ve also noticed that Azeris tend to get their day started a bit later than we’re used to. For example, the buses/ metro are never crowded at 8 or 9 am, but they’re always packed at 2 pm. Stores don’t open until 10/ 11 am, as with offices and some business. Personally, I love this since I despise waking up early. If I had my way, the business day would start at 10:30.
-Stan: ‘Stan’ means ‘region/ place’. So, that’s why Afghanistan, Kazakhstan, Turkmenistan, Pakistan, etc, all have the suffix ‘stan’ at the end. It means the place of Afghans. I never put that one together before.
-Jan: Jan means ‘body’. So the name Azerbaijan means the body of Azeris. So when they say Azerbaijan it’s like they’re saying “our body”.
Drunk: There’s a Russian symbol for saying that someone is drunk that is also used in Azerbaijan. I actually never noticed it in Russia and it took one of the other Americans here pointing it out to me and then I started noticing other people using it here. The gesture is by flicking your forefinger and thumb together (like when you flick a speck of dirt off a table or something) at the side of the bottom of your neck. So you use this symbol when talking about someone. For example if I were to talk about a neighbor (not that I have any drunk neighbors, by the way) and I started flicking my neck, it would be a kind of unsaid way of saying ‘he’s a drunk’.
Americans: I already mentioned I received a free cab ride once for being a nice American girl and speaking in Russian with my cab driver. I got my second free cab ride last night. I'm starting to realize that people here are so fascinated with Americans (even compared with foreigners in general- if I were to say I was from an EU country I doubt I would get the free ride) that they want to make a good impression. This might also have something to do with the fact that I'm young, female, and I'm not married. Regardless, it really makes you think how lucky you are just for being born in a certain country.
Anyways, in other unrelated news, our tv is no longer working and we have bugs in our bathroom. I've given up on the tv, although we're thinking of buying a DVD player. About the bugs... I have no idea what to do. It started off with a big black beetle that I assume is some sort of water bug since it only lives in the bathroom. Unfortunately, it's begun to spawn and I saw a baby bug the other night. We bought some Raid stuff but it hasn't done the trick. If anyone has any other suggestions... please help. I walk into the bathroom each day with trepidation. They only come out at night, which is the weird part.
I have loads of other stuff to update on- life, what I've been up, my job, new internship, various people I've been meeting. Life has been good though. I've really been enjoying my time here, and I love all the stuff I've been learning about life, and through hearing other people's views on the world. Since I'm an American, people love to talk to me about all sorts of things and 'enlighten' me on their views. I find this all fascinating, and they don't seem to mind me asking as many questions as I can think of. It truly validates the reason that I'm here. It makes me realize how important this experience is, and how thankful I am. I've been here a month and a half and I can only imagine what knowledge I'm going to leaving with in 8 months.
I'll update again hopefully soon... once I finish cleaning this apartment and doing various other chores.
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Food
I've been meaning to do a whole segment on food for a while, since it differs vastly from anything we're used to back in the States. I've had to become creative and a lot less picky with my food choices here. I haven't talked about it a lot since I already went through the culture shock with food in Russia, and it's pretty similar to here so I knew what I was getting myself into. In fact, in general I've been more surprised and excited here because I've found things that I never did when I was in St. Petersburg. One of the good things about Azerbaijan (and this goes for most of the countries in this area) is that there are tons of grocery stores everywhere. They're all in walking distance because not everyone has a car, and even if you did, it's virtually impossible to park anywhere to actually load any groceries into a car.
There's three different kind of groceries stores: the first is what would be the most similar to a Western grocery store. There are isles with all sorts of various products divided into different categories (breads, pastries, napkins/ towels, shampoo, milk products, you get the idea). You can walk at your leisure throughout these stores and they have most Western kinds of items. For example, I bought a blow dryer at one of these. (I brought one with me but the heat settings were all funky with the converter and I'm a little nuts about making sure my hair looks ok, so I caved and just bought a blow dryer here.) There's dental floss, cleaning products, a meat market (which I stay far away from anyways), every kind of cheese possible except for cheddar or American. Wah. They have Heinz ketchup. This is also where I get the turkey from. Frozen products, etc. So this is the kind of place where I get most of my shopping done at. It's a little bit of a hike though, about a ten minute walk, which means I have to be careful about how much stuff I get and what I can actually carry with me for about 8 blocks. So I usually try to stop here a couple days a week to pick up various items.
The second kind of grocery store is the good old Soviet-era store. There's one of these across the street from my place which makes it highly convenient to go to. However, it's also an exercise in torture if you can't speak Russian or Azerbaijani and you don't enjoy pointing and miming like a monkey. These are again, split up in different sections according to what kind of product is in each area. So there's like drinks/ bread/ pastries/ toiletries/ cheese/ meat/ toys. Yes, toys. For some odd reason they sell little dolls and stuff here. At each section you're not allowed to get your own stuff, you have to tell someone what you want and they fetch it for you (even though you could easily reach out and just grab it yourself) and then you pay in each individual section. It's not like there's glass or a counter separating you from these areas either. It's like a regular isle, but they get real pissed if you try to touch anything yourself. This whole system really makes NO SENSE to me. I don't understand how it's easier to split this stuff up into different areas. I guess if the system worked perfectly then it would make things easier if you only need a couple things, but it doesn't and it actually takes twice as long. That last sentence can also be applied to pretty much everything about communism as well. Good in theory, failure in practice. But I digress. Anyways, so say I need shampoo, water, and bread. I have to go down to the toiletries section, point to the shampoo. Then I pay for my shampoo and they give me a little baggie. Then I walk about 10 feet and point to bread. I get another baggie and pay the approximately 30 geppik for bread. Then I literally turn 180 degrees and point to the water I want, and pay the 50 geppik for water, and get another little baggie. This system is annoying for several reasons. 1) None of the cashiers are particularly happy when you present large bills (which is inevitable if you stop at like three of these little kiosks within the store). So they always scowl at you when you can't pay in exact change. 2) None of the helpers are thrilled about helping you. They scowl too until you get their attention and point to whatever you want. 3) Sometimes they ignore you when they're preoccupied on their phone/ gabbing to a fellow cashier. So it's really irritating if you're in a hurry and they won't select your item even though it's about five times easier to just get it yourself. 4) Lastly, they give you a look of absolute horror if you tell them you don't need a baggie for a certain item. It's like the idea of combining different products into one bag is a foregone concept. Even though they have other grocery stores so I know they've seen it done before. I refused a baggie the other day for a bottle of water (read that again, yup, just a small bottle of water... as if I couldn't hold it or stick it in my large other bag) and I was met with a look of complete horror. The only good thing about this store is that once you've mastered it, and successfully gone around and ordered what you like, it makes you feel super-accomplished and real good about your language skills. Oh, and it's open 24 hours a day.
The third grocery store can be classified as more of a convenience store. These are open pretty late as well, and they're essentially little hole-in-the-wall places. They sell fruit, drinks, chips, snacks, sweets, bread, and sometimes shampoo and other items. It's basically like a mini-CVS. These are good if you just need a quick item and you happen to walk past one. There are literally tons of these little stores everywhere- within a block of my apartment there's probably about 5.
The last kind of store isn't so much a store as a stand. It's a pseudo-fourth place to find food, but only fruit, vegetables, and eggs. (Or a live chicken, if you're up to the challenge.) There are a lot of these too, and all over town. It's the best place to buy fresh fruit and vegetables, and easier than the gesturing and pointing trick in the store. Here, the guys who own the stands are always very friendly and super-excited to speak an American. It's also a lot cheaper than buying fruit or vegetables in the store. They have pretty much every kind of fruit and vegetable possible, including stuff I've never seen before. Except lettuce. I have yet to find lettuce. Therefore, I haven't been able to make any salads, which is a bit of a bummer since they actually do sell blue cheese here too. I've made a friend at one of the fruit stands that's on the walk from the metro to my apartment and it's 1 manat for a couple tomatoes and peppers. Yes... I've begun to eat tomatoes. (My parents are probably falling off their chairs in shock.)
This brings me to my next point about food. What I actually eat. As I said, while I have all these options for food, it's still slim pickings. They sell stuff like pasta, bread, even some frozen items (and pizza, although it's like 10 bucks for a mini-pizza) so I've pretty much been eating that stuff. They have cereal but since I'm not a big milk person, nor do I like to sacrifice sleep to sit around and eat cereal, so I buy packets of muffins and eat one for breakfast. Lunch is the harder part- a lot of times I don't really eat lunch. I'll have a little piece of bread, maybe sometimes with cheese, or a pastry-like bread thing that someone at the university will hand me since they're all about feeding me. If I'm super hungry when I come home I'll scarf down a bigger piece of bread, with some cheese. I have discovered that there's nothing better than slicing up some fresh tomatoes and putting them on a piece of Azerbaijani bread with some plain cheese. My biggest (and generally main) meal is dinner. I've been buying chicken breasts occasionally and sauteing them. I made some potato fries another night. I'll make pasta and either melt cheese or butter. I've also bought some sauces that aren't half bad that can easily be put on the pasta. I could get creative and put them on chicken too, now that I think about it. My best moment was the other day when I made a cheese quesadilla with peppers and tomatoes and dipped it in sour cream. It was probably my best meal to date. I also buy blini (they're a Russian version of crepes... so good) and saute them and eat them with sour cream. They also sell those little on-the-stove packets for soup or pasta but I tried one and it was pretty terrible. There's also a whole array of microwaveable items, but I don't have a microwave which really puts a damper on my style. I keep trying to find stove-top popcorn since popcorn is one of my biggest weaknesses and I can't find any. They sell pelmini in the grocery store, so it's another option for food. For dessert I'll eat a cirok or a pomegranate. Once I ate a pomegranate for dinner because I was too lazy to cook/ had no food. Pomegranates and bread... the meal of a champion.
They sell canned vegetables too, but as the idiot that I am, I got super-excited when I saw peas and bought the can. And then I got home and realized I didn't have a can opener. Since I'm too cheap to buy one, I've been attempting to take the knife and go caveman-style at the can trying to open it, always with these visions in the back of my head of my hand ending up bloodied and infected since I got too frustrated with the knife/ can. Since I don't want to buy more peas since I have a perfectly good can of peas, I'm going to see what damage I can go with my nail clipper (post- sanitizing, don't worry) on this tin can. What I wouldn't do for a Swiss army knife. Oh, living abroad...
Lastly, the price. Most of this stuff is all pretty cheap. Since I'm trying to be super-thrifty and save what little of my salary that I can so I can travel in the upcoming months, I always buy the cheapest stuff I can find. Cheap mayo, cheap napkins, cheap toilet paper, cheap vegetable oil.. you get the point. Also, I have no idea what the brands are, so it's not like I could be snobby if I tried. I might cave in an buy the Heinz ketchup though- it's so tempting. The fruit and vegetables are all really cheap, like I said, especially from a stand. I pay about 2-3 manat at a stand (like $3.50 max) and then about 15-20 manat ($17-$23) the grocery store each time I go, which lasts me for about a week. It's really cheap if you just shop the right way and don't buy stupid expensive stuff. (Like the pizza.) I'm sure lettuce would be really expensive if I ever manage to find it, and once I saw a tiny little head of broccoli for 7 manat, like 8 bucks. I like broccoli, but I'm not forking over that kind of money.
All in all, it's an ok living in terms of food. It's not like the U.S., but then again, I didn't come all the way out here to eat and live like an American for 10 months.
There's three different kind of groceries stores: the first is what would be the most similar to a Western grocery store. There are isles with all sorts of various products divided into different categories (breads, pastries, napkins/ towels, shampoo, milk products, you get the idea). You can walk at your leisure throughout these stores and they have most Western kinds of items. For example, I bought a blow dryer at one of these. (I brought one with me but the heat settings were all funky with the converter and I'm a little nuts about making sure my hair looks ok, so I caved and just bought a blow dryer here.) There's dental floss, cleaning products, a meat market (which I stay far away from anyways), every kind of cheese possible except for cheddar or American. Wah. They have Heinz ketchup. This is also where I get the turkey from. Frozen products, etc. So this is the kind of place where I get most of my shopping done at. It's a little bit of a hike though, about a ten minute walk, which means I have to be careful about how much stuff I get and what I can actually carry with me for about 8 blocks. So I usually try to stop here a couple days a week to pick up various items.
The second kind of grocery store is the good old Soviet-era store. There's one of these across the street from my place which makes it highly convenient to go to. However, it's also an exercise in torture if you can't speak Russian or Azerbaijani and you don't enjoy pointing and miming like a monkey. These are again, split up in different sections according to what kind of product is in each area. So there's like drinks/ bread/ pastries/ toiletries/ cheese/ meat/ toys. Yes, toys. For some odd reason they sell little dolls and stuff here. At each section you're not allowed to get your own stuff, you have to tell someone what you want and they fetch it for you (even though you could easily reach out and just grab it yourself) and then you pay in each individual section. It's not like there's glass or a counter separating you from these areas either. It's like a regular isle, but they get real pissed if you try to touch anything yourself. This whole system really makes NO SENSE to me. I don't understand how it's easier to split this stuff up into different areas. I guess if the system worked perfectly then it would make things easier if you only need a couple things, but it doesn't and it actually takes twice as long. That last sentence can also be applied to pretty much everything about communism as well. Good in theory, failure in practice. But I digress. Anyways, so say I need shampoo, water, and bread. I have to go down to the toiletries section, point to the shampoo. Then I pay for my shampoo and they give me a little baggie. Then I walk about 10 feet and point to bread. I get another baggie and pay the approximately 30 geppik for bread. Then I literally turn 180 degrees and point to the water I want, and pay the 50 geppik for water, and get another little baggie. This system is annoying for several reasons. 1) None of the cashiers are particularly happy when you present large bills (which is inevitable if you stop at like three of these little kiosks within the store). So they always scowl at you when you can't pay in exact change. 2) None of the helpers are thrilled about helping you. They scowl too until you get their attention and point to whatever you want. 3) Sometimes they ignore you when they're preoccupied on their phone/ gabbing to a fellow cashier. So it's really irritating if you're in a hurry and they won't select your item even though it's about five times easier to just get it yourself. 4) Lastly, they give you a look of absolute horror if you tell them you don't need a baggie for a certain item. It's like the idea of combining different products into one bag is a foregone concept. Even though they have other grocery stores so I know they've seen it done before. I refused a baggie the other day for a bottle of water (read that again, yup, just a small bottle of water... as if I couldn't hold it or stick it in my large other bag) and I was met with a look of complete horror. The only good thing about this store is that once you've mastered it, and successfully gone around and ordered what you like, it makes you feel super-accomplished and real good about your language skills. Oh, and it's open 24 hours a day.
The third grocery store can be classified as more of a convenience store. These are open pretty late as well, and they're essentially little hole-in-the-wall places. They sell fruit, drinks, chips, snacks, sweets, bread, and sometimes shampoo and other items. It's basically like a mini-CVS. These are good if you just need a quick item and you happen to walk past one. There are literally tons of these little stores everywhere- within a block of my apartment there's probably about 5.
The last kind of store isn't so much a store as a stand. It's a pseudo-fourth place to find food, but only fruit, vegetables, and eggs. (Or a live chicken, if you're up to the challenge.) There are a lot of these too, and all over town. It's the best place to buy fresh fruit and vegetables, and easier than the gesturing and pointing trick in the store. Here, the guys who own the stands are always very friendly and super-excited to speak an American. It's also a lot cheaper than buying fruit or vegetables in the store. They have pretty much every kind of fruit and vegetable possible, including stuff I've never seen before. Except lettuce. I have yet to find lettuce. Therefore, I haven't been able to make any salads, which is a bit of a bummer since they actually do sell blue cheese here too. I've made a friend at one of the fruit stands that's on the walk from the metro to my apartment and it's 1 manat for a couple tomatoes and peppers. Yes... I've begun to eat tomatoes. (My parents are probably falling off their chairs in shock.)
This brings me to my next point about food. What I actually eat. As I said, while I have all these options for food, it's still slim pickings. They sell stuff like pasta, bread, even some frozen items (and pizza, although it's like 10 bucks for a mini-pizza) so I've pretty much been eating that stuff. They have cereal but since I'm not a big milk person, nor do I like to sacrifice sleep to sit around and eat cereal, so I buy packets of muffins and eat one for breakfast. Lunch is the harder part- a lot of times I don't really eat lunch. I'll have a little piece of bread, maybe sometimes with cheese, or a pastry-like bread thing that someone at the university will hand me since they're all about feeding me. If I'm super hungry when I come home I'll scarf down a bigger piece of bread, with some cheese. I have discovered that there's nothing better than slicing up some fresh tomatoes and putting them on a piece of Azerbaijani bread with some plain cheese. My biggest (and generally main) meal is dinner. I've been buying chicken breasts occasionally and sauteing them. I made some potato fries another night. I'll make pasta and either melt cheese or butter. I've also bought some sauces that aren't half bad that can easily be put on the pasta. I could get creative and put them on chicken too, now that I think about it. My best moment was the other day when I made a cheese quesadilla with peppers and tomatoes and dipped it in sour cream. It was probably my best meal to date. I also buy blini (they're a Russian version of crepes... so good) and saute them and eat them with sour cream. They also sell those little on-the-stove packets for soup or pasta but I tried one and it was pretty terrible. There's also a whole array of microwaveable items, but I don't have a microwave which really puts a damper on my style. I keep trying to find stove-top popcorn since popcorn is one of my biggest weaknesses and I can't find any. They sell pelmini in the grocery store, so it's another option for food. For dessert I'll eat a cirok or a pomegranate. Once I ate a pomegranate for dinner because I was too lazy to cook/ had no food. Pomegranates and bread... the meal of a champion.
They sell canned vegetables too, but as the idiot that I am, I got super-excited when I saw peas and bought the can. And then I got home and realized I didn't have a can opener. Since I'm too cheap to buy one, I've been attempting to take the knife and go caveman-style at the can trying to open it, always with these visions in the back of my head of my hand ending up bloodied and infected since I got too frustrated with the knife/ can. Since I don't want to buy more peas since I have a perfectly good can of peas, I'm going to see what damage I can go with my nail clipper (post- sanitizing, don't worry) on this tin can. What I wouldn't do for a Swiss army knife. Oh, living abroad...
Lastly, the price. Most of this stuff is all pretty cheap. Since I'm trying to be super-thrifty and save what little of my salary that I can so I can travel in the upcoming months, I always buy the cheapest stuff I can find. Cheap mayo, cheap napkins, cheap toilet paper, cheap vegetable oil.. you get the point. Also, I have no idea what the brands are, so it's not like I could be snobby if I tried. I might cave in an buy the Heinz ketchup though- it's so tempting. The fruit and vegetables are all really cheap, like I said, especially from a stand. I pay about 2-3 manat at a stand (like $3.50 max) and then about 15-20 manat ($17-$23) the grocery store each time I go, which lasts me for about a week. It's really cheap if you just shop the right way and don't buy stupid expensive stuff. (Like the pizza.) I'm sure lettuce would be really expensive if I ever manage to find it, and once I saw a tiny little head of broccoli for 7 manat, like 8 bucks. I like broccoli, but I'm not forking over that kind of money.
All in all, it's an ok living in terms of food. It's not like the U.S., but then again, I didn't come all the way out here to eat and live like an American for 10 months.
Friday, October 2, 2009
Observations Part Shest'
That's 'six', if you're trying to catch up.
Sidewalks: This is something I became accustomed to pretty fast and never bothered to write about. The sidewalks here are all completely torn up and always under renovation. They’re usually of the cobblestone variety, although sometimes they’re an odd tile kind. What they all have in common though, is that it’s almost impossible to walk on them without looking down where you’re putting your feet. Throw in the fact that women here ALL wear heels, I’m completely bewildered as to how anyone walks on the sidewalks without seriously injuring themselves.
Cold cuts: I need to do a whole section on food, but this is something especially pertinent. I’m used to a lot of the food choices here because of Russia, so nothing is too shocking. However, the fact that they have cold cuts here is something that warrants celebration. The supermarket that I go to has turkey (and ham) cold cuts. I haven’t seen them at any other supermarket in Baku, and I suspect this has to do with the fact that we’re near the U.S. Embassy, although I could be wrong. The supermarket doesn’t always have turkey cold cuts, actually they just reappeared today after a several weeks’ hiatus, but they’re there. It goes without saying that they’re pre-packaged, but whatever. Beggars can’t be choosers. I bought two packets of them today, for fear that they disappear soon.
Wind: Baku is called the windy city. One of the interpretations of the name is a play on the word ‘wind’ in Azerbaijani (or so I’m told.) When I first arrived here I didn’t notice the wind much since it was pretty hot. It is still pretty warm now (today hit 75 and sunny) but the wind has definitely begun to blow. It comes in gusts that whip all your clothing around and bring the temperature down several degrees. At night when it blows there is definitely a need for a jacket. To be perfectly honest, I actually kind of like the wind. As long as it’s not the cold and bitter Syracuse wind, it’s kind of nice. It makes it a little cooler while walking around, and I like wearing a light jacket.
Tea: I’ve already discussed in detail Azerbaijan’s obsession with tea and making sure that everyone has enough. One thing that I’ve begun to notice, however, is how they drink their tea. Azerbaijanis drink their tea piping hot and can empty the cup in under a minute. Call me crazy, but I drink my tea verrrry slowly and I generally wait for it to cool down a lot. When I’m not drinking it all that fast they generally yell at me to “drink up!” I don’t get how they can drink tea that is so incredibly hot. I think this also may be a European thing, because I noticed my British friend doing it too.
Bazaars: There are bazaars everywhere in this city. I already wrote about a fabulous one I went to several weeks ago where they sold everything and the kitchen sink (literally). However, my favorite bazaars are the ones in the metro. Once you leave the metro there’s a pseudo-underground area where vendors sell clothing, shoes, perfume, makeup, etc. I think this is actually where the majority of Azerbaijanis shop since it’s so much cheaper than actual stores.
Formal/ Informal: In Russian (as with most languages) there’s a formal form of ‘you’ and an informal form. Since I’m a foreigner I almost always use the formal form, even in cases when I probably shouldn’t. For example, with children. But since it’s not engrained in me my first response is to just use that form until I correct myself later. Sometimes I’ll go back and forth with formal to informal, which I’m sure makes some people chuckle, but whatever. Anyways, I have a point to this. In order to enter the Academy you need identification that says you work there. If you've been reading this blog, you should have caught on to the fact that there's no way I have this yet. So on Wednesday when I was trying to get in I to explain that I worked at the Academy, I teach English, and I don’t have my documents yet. I managed to successfully convey this to the policeman/ security guard and I understand all of his responses as well. (Anna: 1)However, the one thing that struck me was when he used the formal form in addressing me. Usually whenever people speak to me (especially older men) they use the informal form since I look about 19, I’m female, and I clearly am not fluent in the language. The fact that he addressed me in the formal version made me feel oh-so-adult. Like I’m actually 22 and I know what I’m doing. And very accomplished. (Anna: 2, Azerbaijan: 214.)
Trial and Error: The biggest way I can describe my life here is through trial and error. I generally just try to go with the flow, pretend I always know what’s going on and follow other people’s actions. A lot of what I learn is through some probably incredibly inconvenient way of doing something until I watch someone else do it another way, or I mess something up, and I realize that there was actually a better way of doing it. A lot of this has to do with traveling/ getting places. The best example I can think of is how I was trying to get to Fountain Square, the main area of town. I would take a bus/ walk down to the metro station, get on for one stop, then got off and wander about haphazardly through the crowds until I finally found my way to Fountain Square. I did this several times until one day I was on the bus (my trusty 288) and I discovered that it literally went to the other end of the square. And lo and behold, it was about 20 minutes faster.
Metro Police: The metro in Azerbaijan (and Russia for that matter- I think all former Soviet countries share this in common) is pretty strict with pictures and shady behavior. When you enter there are two policemen who randomly check bags and stand there with their metal wands and shove them into anyone’s bag who looks suspicious (basically I’m a walking target with my cardigans, polos and iPod). I know that it’s inadvisable for me to get pulled off to the side and have them go through my stuff, since once they get wind of the fact that I’m a foreigner they’ll most likely ask for my documents and then I’m going to have to stumble through some conversation and probably get very flustered and confused. So the best way I’ve figured to avoid this is stare directly ahead, follow some old women in through the furthest door from the police (there’s only two doors so it’s not like I’m hiding anyways) and look like I know exactly what’s going on. Under no circumstances, do I speak English or make eye contact. Which brings me to…
Eye contact: I’ve discovered (and this is a universal rule) that making eye contact a) invites people to talk to you, b) invites people to harass you, c) arouses suspicion, d) makes you look guilty, and e) screams foreigner. This was true not only at home in Boston when walking in particularly shady parts of the city where I didn’t feel like being harassed, but also abroad. Call me an unfriendly East Coaster if you want. Sure, if you feel like being friendly and you believe everyone is as nice as Big Bird then make all the eye contact you want. However, I'm a realist and I know that making eye contact with most of the men staring at me on the street is NOT a good idea. This is probably the best rule I could give to anyone traveling. Just don’t make eye contact with people since they’ll probably start staring at you in a way that makes you feel uncomfortable, and absolutely never, ever, ever, EVER make eye contact with the police. I followed this rule to a t in St. Petersburg where there were police on every corner (literally) and it served me pretty well. Hopefully it will continue this way.
Safety procedures: The U.S. loves rules. And they love safety precautions and instructions. This is all totally fine and I completely endorse it, even if it’s sometimes a bit silly (let’s be honest, if we’re in an airplane and we’re going down, I am not going to calmly blow into my life vest so it inflates.) Here, the idea of “safety precautions”, or “regulations” is a bit laughable. The other day I went on a boat ride around the Caspian Sea. There were no lifeboats, no life vests, no announcement from the Captain describing what was going on or what to do in the case of emergency. There were no instructions anywhere. In fact, the boat looked like it might decay and crumble apart any minute. There was one dinky little buoy on board that was probably so old it would have hindered someone drowning rather than helped. Couple that with the fact the Caspian Sea is pretty much half oil, this boat was a floating death trap.
Quite obviously, none of the cars really have seat belts, nor does anyone wear them. Also, the metro is pretty much another death trap in case of an emergency, since there are no real exits. Guess I’m living life on the dangerous side.
Face covers: As I might have mentioned before, Baku is one of the most polluted city in the world, and they’re not winning any awards to change this stellar reputation. This means that the air quality is absolutely horrible and it actually takes a little getting used to. There’s a permanent smog along the skyline that you can see at night as well. I’m pretty much used to it at this point, and I figured that almost all the residents are as well. However, I’ve actually noticed a couple of people wearing face masks and covering their mouths while walking around. Obviously I don’t know their reasoning for this, but it’s interesting to note that some people know the detrimental effects of the pollution here.
EFL: EFL stands for “English as a Foreign Language” aka what I’m teaching. EFL is what people learn when they’re learning English in a non-English speaking country. EFL is also taught a lot of times by teachers who are not native speakers. Today while I was sitting in the faculty room I noticed one of the teachers individually helping a student with English. I was listening to a bit of it, and I noticed that while, for the most part the teacher was correct with her English, she sometimes corrected him the wrong way. For example the student said something like “it was a big efforts” and the teacher was like, “correct!” Not so fast. It’s obviously not my place to correct her since I would be undermining the teacher, but it’s an interesting phenomenon when non-native speakers are teaching a language and therefore perpetuating incorrect grammar and mistakes.
My lack of direction: The title of this blog is devoted to the fact that I’m totally and completely directionally challenged, although I haven’t written about this recently. I try to keep this on the DL (down-low, for you older folk… aka Mom and Dad my two faithful readers) with most people since I already look like an idiot most of the time. I’ve pretty much come to accept that I’m going to look a bit kooky for the next ten months here, by the way.
Anyways, the funny part about my left-and-right problems is when people catch on. Usually this incites some laughter and jokes from my friends back home and then the realization that I should never be trusted with driving/ directions ever again. Here, I’ve been in a cab a couple times and I’ve been trying to tell the cab driver to pull over because I live on the left. There’s usually a big pause between “Here, please, I live on….” And “the left.” By the time I’ve looked at my hands and figured it out and then translated it into Russian, the cab driver is staring at me, starting to smile, and figured out that I mean left. Everyone is catching on to me.
Side note: I’m lucky in the fact that in Russian the word for ‘left’ is ‘leva’, so it’s also an “L” and thus I can use my hands to figure out the difference.
Cleanliness: Today I observed what might be one of the grossest examples of the complete lack of cleanliness here in Baku. I was on the marshutka going out to the Academy and on the top of each seat were these little yellow covers for the head. The covers went from grayish-black from the top down to yellow at the bottom, about 10 inches below. The reason for this is that people stand on these marshutkas (I have no idea how since they lurch every 5 seconds and they’re the size of twinbed) and hold on to the top of the seats. This also means that these covers have never. been. cleaned. It was from everyone’s dirty hands touching the seats. Gross.
With that being said, I wash my hands as frequently as possible and definitely wash them before I eat anything. You can imagine from that example what the cleanliness of the metro and bus system is like. I don’t think there’s such a thing as sanitizer. Cleaning here involves a broom and the floor.
Designer: Everyone here has designer clothing. And by designer, I mean imposter designer. As if Prada would make jeans that say PRADA in big gold metal letters on the butt. I think not. But if it says a designer brand, then it is obviously the coolest thing out there to buy. The best part of this is that people mix all the designers. So the typical outfit is something like: Gucci shoes, Prada jeans, an Armani belt, an FCUK (French Connection United Kingdom… I’m not cursing, it’s a brand)/ Calvin Klein/ you-get-the-idea t-shirt, and if it’s a woman, a Louis Vuitton bag. None of these various items are real, with the exception of maybe the t-shirt. All of it is studded, bedazzled, and gilded to the max. The underground bazaars that I mentioned earlier sell all of these items as well. One of the guys I met was like, “So you know Prada?” Of course I know what Prada is. And then he proceeded to show me his ‘Prada’ jeans. I just kind of laughed and winced.
Sidewalks: This is something I became accustomed to pretty fast and never bothered to write about. The sidewalks here are all completely torn up and always under renovation. They’re usually of the cobblestone variety, although sometimes they’re an odd tile kind. What they all have in common though, is that it’s almost impossible to walk on them without looking down where you’re putting your feet. Throw in the fact that women here ALL wear heels, I’m completely bewildered as to how anyone walks on the sidewalks without seriously injuring themselves.
Cold cuts: I need to do a whole section on food, but this is something especially pertinent. I’m used to a lot of the food choices here because of Russia, so nothing is too shocking. However, the fact that they have cold cuts here is something that warrants celebration. The supermarket that I go to has turkey (and ham) cold cuts. I haven’t seen them at any other supermarket in Baku, and I suspect this has to do with the fact that we’re near the U.S. Embassy, although I could be wrong. The supermarket doesn’t always have turkey cold cuts, actually they just reappeared today after a several weeks’ hiatus, but they’re there. It goes without saying that they’re pre-packaged, but whatever. Beggars can’t be choosers. I bought two packets of them today, for fear that they disappear soon.
Wind: Baku is called the windy city. One of the interpretations of the name is a play on the word ‘wind’ in Azerbaijani (or so I’m told.) When I first arrived here I didn’t notice the wind much since it was pretty hot. It is still pretty warm now (today hit 75 and sunny) but the wind has definitely begun to blow. It comes in gusts that whip all your clothing around and bring the temperature down several degrees. At night when it blows there is definitely a need for a jacket. To be perfectly honest, I actually kind of like the wind. As long as it’s not the cold and bitter Syracuse wind, it’s kind of nice. It makes it a little cooler while walking around, and I like wearing a light jacket.
Tea: I’ve already discussed in detail Azerbaijan’s obsession with tea and making sure that everyone has enough. One thing that I’ve begun to notice, however, is how they drink their tea. Azerbaijanis drink their tea piping hot and can empty the cup in under a minute. Call me crazy, but I drink my tea verrrry slowly and I generally wait for it to cool down a lot. When I’m not drinking it all that fast they generally yell at me to “drink up!” I don’t get how they can drink tea that is so incredibly hot. I think this also may be a European thing, because I noticed my British friend doing it too.
Bazaars: There are bazaars everywhere in this city. I already wrote about a fabulous one I went to several weeks ago where they sold everything and the kitchen sink (literally). However, my favorite bazaars are the ones in the metro. Once you leave the metro there’s a pseudo-underground area where vendors sell clothing, shoes, perfume, makeup, etc. I think this is actually where the majority of Azerbaijanis shop since it’s so much cheaper than actual stores.
Formal/ Informal: In Russian (as with most languages) there’s a formal form of ‘you’ and an informal form. Since I’m a foreigner I almost always use the formal form, even in cases when I probably shouldn’t. For example, with children. But since it’s not engrained in me my first response is to just use that form until I correct myself later. Sometimes I’ll go back and forth with formal to informal, which I’m sure makes some people chuckle, but whatever. Anyways, I have a point to this. In order to enter the Academy you need identification that says you work there. If you've been reading this blog, you should have caught on to the fact that there's no way I have this yet. So on Wednesday when I was trying to get in I to explain that I worked at the Academy, I teach English, and I don’t have my documents yet. I managed to successfully convey this to the policeman/ security guard and I understand all of his responses as well. (Anna: 1)However, the one thing that struck me was when he used the formal form in addressing me. Usually whenever people speak to me (especially older men) they use the informal form since I look about 19, I’m female, and I clearly am not fluent in the language. The fact that he addressed me in the formal version made me feel oh-so-adult. Like I’m actually 22 and I know what I’m doing. And very accomplished. (Anna: 2, Azerbaijan: 214.)
Trial and Error: The biggest way I can describe my life here is through trial and error. I generally just try to go with the flow, pretend I always know what’s going on and follow other people’s actions. A lot of what I learn is through some probably incredibly inconvenient way of doing something until I watch someone else do it another way, or I mess something up, and I realize that there was actually a better way of doing it. A lot of this has to do with traveling/ getting places. The best example I can think of is how I was trying to get to Fountain Square, the main area of town. I would take a bus/ walk down to the metro station, get on for one stop, then got off and wander about haphazardly through the crowds until I finally found my way to Fountain Square. I did this several times until one day I was on the bus (my trusty 288) and I discovered that it literally went to the other end of the square. And lo and behold, it was about 20 minutes faster.
Metro Police: The metro in Azerbaijan (and Russia for that matter- I think all former Soviet countries share this in common) is pretty strict with pictures and shady behavior. When you enter there are two policemen who randomly check bags and stand there with their metal wands and shove them into anyone’s bag who looks suspicious (basically I’m a walking target with my cardigans, polos and iPod). I know that it’s inadvisable for me to get pulled off to the side and have them go through my stuff, since once they get wind of the fact that I’m a foreigner they’ll most likely ask for my documents and then I’m going to have to stumble through some conversation and probably get very flustered and confused. So the best way I’ve figured to avoid this is stare directly ahead, follow some old women in through the furthest door from the police (there’s only two doors so it’s not like I’m hiding anyways) and look like I know exactly what’s going on. Under no circumstances, do I speak English or make eye contact. Which brings me to…
Eye contact: I’ve discovered (and this is a universal rule) that making eye contact a) invites people to talk to you, b) invites people to harass you, c) arouses suspicion, d) makes you look guilty, and e) screams foreigner. This was true not only at home in Boston when walking in particularly shady parts of the city where I didn’t feel like being harassed, but also abroad. Call me an unfriendly East Coaster if you want. Sure, if you feel like being friendly and you believe everyone is as nice as Big Bird then make all the eye contact you want. However, I'm a realist and I know that making eye contact with most of the men staring at me on the street is NOT a good idea. This is probably the best rule I could give to anyone traveling. Just don’t make eye contact with people since they’ll probably start staring at you in a way that makes you feel uncomfortable, and absolutely never, ever, ever, EVER make eye contact with the police. I followed this rule to a t in St. Petersburg where there were police on every corner (literally) and it served me pretty well. Hopefully it will continue this way.
Safety procedures: The U.S. loves rules. And they love safety precautions and instructions. This is all totally fine and I completely endorse it, even if it’s sometimes a bit silly (let’s be honest, if we’re in an airplane and we’re going down, I am not going to calmly blow into my life vest so it inflates.) Here, the idea of “safety precautions”, or “regulations” is a bit laughable. The other day I went on a boat ride around the Caspian Sea. There were no lifeboats, no life vests, no announcement from the Captain describing what was going on or what to do in the case of emergency. There were no instructions anywhere. In fact, the boat looked like it might decay and crumble apart any minute. There was one dinky little buoy on board that was probably so old it would have hindered someone drowning rather than helped. Couple that with the fact the Caspian Sea is pretty much half oil, this boat was a floating death trap.
Quite obviously, none of the cars really have seat belts, nor does anyone wear them. Also, the metro is pretty much another death trap in case of an emergency, since there are no real exits. Guess I’m living life on the dangerous side.
Face covers: As I might have mentioned before, Baku is one of the most polluted city in the world, and they’re not winning any awards to change this stellar reputation. This means that the air quality is absolutely horrible and it actually takes a little getting used to. There’s a permanent smog along the skyline that you can see at night as well. I’m pretty much used to it at this point, and I figured that almost all the residents are as well. However, I’ve actually noticed a couple of people wearing face masks and covering their mouths while walking around. Obviously I don’t know their reasoning for this, but it’s interesting to note that some people know the detrimental effects of the pollution here.
EFL: EFL stands for “English as a Foreign Language” aka what I’m teaching. EFL is what people learn when they’re learning English in a non-English speaking country. EFL is also taught a lot of times by teachers who are not native speakers. Today while I was sitting in the faculty room I noticed one of the teachers individually helping a student with English. I was listening to a bit of it, and I noticed that while, for the most part the teacher was correct with her English, she sometimes corrected him the wrong way. For example the student said something like “it was a big efforts” and the teacher was like, “correct!” Not so fast. It’s obviously not my place to correct her since I would be undermining the teacher, but it’s an interesting phenomenon when non-native speakers are teaching a language and therefore perpetuating incorrect grammar and mistakes.
My lack of direction: The title of this blog is devoted to the fact that I’m totally and completely directionally challenged, although I haven’t written about this recently. I try to keep this on the DL (down-low, for you older folk… aka Mom and Dad my two faithful readers) with most people since I already look like an idiot most of the time. I’ve pretty much come to accept that I’m going to look a bit kooky for the next ten months here, by the way.
Anyways, the funny part about my left-and-right problems is when people catch on. Usually this incites some laughter and jokes from my friends back home and then the realization that I should never be trusted with driving/ directions ever again. Here, I’ve been in a cab a couple times and I’ve been trying to tell the cab driver to pull over because I live on the left. There’s usually a big pause between “Here, please, I live on….” And “the left.” By the time I’ve looked at my hands and figured it out and then translated it into Russian, the cab driver is staring at me, starting to smile, and figured out that I mean left. Everyone is catching on to me.
Side note: I’m lucky in the fact that in Russian the word for ‘left’ is ‘leva’, so it’s also an “L” and thus I can use my hands to figure out the difference.
Cleanliness: Today I observed what might be one of the grossest examples of the complete lack of cleanliness here in Baku. I was on the marshutka going out to the Academy and on the top of each seat were these little yellow covers for the head. The covers went from grayish-black from the top down to yellow at the bottom, about 10 inches below. The reason for this is that people stand on these marshutkas (I have no idea how since they lurch every 5 seconds and they’re the size of twinbed) and hold on to the top of the seats. This also means that these covers have never. been. cleaned. It was from everyone’s dirty hands touching the seats. Gross.
With that being said, I wash my hands as frequently as possible and definitely wash them before I eat anything. You can imagine from that example what the cleanliness of the metro and bus system is like. I don’t think there’s such a thing as sanitizer. Cleaning here involves a broom and the floor.
Designer: Everyone here has designer clothing. And by designer, I mean imposter designer. As if Prada would make jeans that say PRADA in big gold metal letters on the butt. I think not. But if it says a designer brand, then it is obviously the coolest thing out there to buy. The best part of this is that people mix all the designers. So the typical outfit is something like: Gucci shoes, Prada jeans, an Armani belt, an FCUK (French Connection United Kingdom… I’m not cursing, it’s a brand)/ Calvin Klein/ you-get-the-idea t-shirt, and if it’s a woman, a Louis Vuitton bag. None of these various items are real, with the exception of maybe the t-shirt. All of it is studded, bedazzled, and gilded to the max. The underground bazaars that I mentioned earlier sell all of these items as well. One of the guys I met was like, “So you know Prada?” Of course I know what Prada is. And then he proceeded to show me his ‘Prada’ jeans. I just kind of laughed and winced.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Still no set schedule.
Today I went into the Academy again. I thought I had a discussion class in the afternoon so I prepared a bunch of topics for the students to chose from since they’re a bit whiney, and prepared a bunch of questions to ask in case they weren’t feeling chatty. I had also told one of the teachers that I would help her out. So I went in and talked to some of her students for about 30 minutes, but they weren’t in the most cooperative mood. She said later she was embarrassed since they weren’t prepared, but it was all a little weird. Oh well. I’m just glad they’re trying to use me more. I prattled away about random stuff and asked them questions. One of their first questions for me was what I thought about Nagorno-Karabagh and whose territory it rightfully belongs to (although they worded it much more strongly). I pretty much refused to answer that one. They also asked a bunch of questions about Obama and my political party, and what I thought about the health care plan. That’s not the first time I’ve been asked about the health care stuff too- it’s interesting to note how much they follow our news and partisan debates.
So then I went back and hung out, talked to another class for about five minutes again (the usual questions- where are you from, are you married, I love American girls!). It turns out I didn’t have the discussion class today, although no one told me this. I asked if I have it Friday and the teachers just kind of shrugged and said maybe. But then they said how much the students like me and enjoyed the class, so I don’t get why it’s not happening again. So I told some other students we could have a discussion class on Friday. I’m getting a bit irritated that I don’t have a concrete schedule. I was excited at the prospect of having set students on set days, but it seems that nothing is nailed down. I’m just going to keep going with the flow.
I’m still waiting from the director of the Museum to call me and let me know what’s going on. I have all these other people in the area who have been calling/ e-mailing me to ask for help with English language courses and I would be willing to take at least one of them up on them, but I honestly don’t know my schedule yet with my assigned places so I can’t take anything on yet. I feel badly for some of these people since I do want to genuinely help some of them out, and I don’t want them to think that I’m putting them off on purpose. I just really don’t know when I’ll be free to help. I keep telling them I’ll call them once I know, so hopefully that’s satisfactory.
Tomorrow I’m going in to speak with an organization about an internship. Hopefully this will pan out and I’ll have at least something structured in my time. Then, tomorrow night it’s salsa time again! Woohoo!
So then I went back and hung out, talked to another class for about five minutes again (the usual questions- where are you from, are you married, I love American girls!). It turns out I didn’t have the discussion class today, although no one told me this. I asked if I have it Friday and the teachers just kind of shrugged and said maybe. But then they said how much the students like me and enjoyed the class, so I don’t get why it’s not happening again. So I told some other students we could have a discussion class on Friday. I’m getting a bit irritated that I don’t have a concrete schedule. I was excited at the prospect of having set students on set days, but it seems that nothing is nailed down. I’m just going to keep going with the flow.
I’m still waiting from the director of the Museum to call me and let me know what’s going on. I have all these other people in the area who have been calling/ e-mailing me to ask for help with English language courses and I would be willing to take at least one of them up on them, but I honestly don’t know my schedule yet with my assigned places so I can’t take anything on yet. I feel badly for some of these people since I do want to genuinely help some of them out, and I don’t want them to think that I’m putting them off on purpose. I just really don’t know when I’ll be free to help. I keep telling them I’ll call them once I know, so hopefully that’s satisfactory.
Tomorrow I’m going in to speak with an organization about an internship. Hopefully this will pan out and I’ll have at least something structured in my time. Then, tomorrow night it’s salsa time again! Woohoo!
Observations Part Pyat'
Smoking: Only men smoke here, and from what I’ve gathered all men smoke. And by smoke I mean they all pretty much chain smoke. I thought that the guy in charge of me didn’t smoke since he never lit up in the car but then I saw him smoking outside one of the buildings one day. Sometimes the cab drivers will ask if it’s ok if they smoke in the car, which strikes me as pretty polite. All the bus drivers smoke, which is especially detrimental when you’re located near the front of the bus and stuck in traffic.
Apparently women smoke, but only indoors. I’ve actually seen this proven. At the upscale ex-pat/ rich Azerbaijani café I’ve seen women smoking. And they chain smoke too. It’s a really lovely habit.
The one funny thing I have to say about the smoking here is the cigarette cartons. In the States they have big warnings on the cartons that will say “WARNING: Smoking causes cancer of the lungs, birth defects, etc.” Here, they have warnings but they’re a bit different. The typical cigarette carton warning here is: “WARNING: Smoking causes ageing of the skin.” Right. As if that’s your only problem if you’re smoking.
Pomegranates: I’d never tried a pomegranate before and my friend here made me try one since they’re a local fruit. They’re a bit tough to eat, but I’ve discovered they might be the most delicious fruit ever. How I’ve never had one before is beyond me. You have to cut it open but once you start eating the little sour red seeds… it’s so worth it. I wish they were plentiful in the U.S. since I’m going to start eating them regularly here. I could seriously eat them in lieu of cheesecake for dessert, they’re that good. Now I’m craving one.
Redheads: I’ve described the typical features of Azerbaijanis, so this subject might seem a little strange. I would never have guessed I would see redheads in Azerbaijan but there’s actually a fair amount. Not the ginger-flaming-red-hair type, but something closer to my hair color. I’ve made the mistake of thinking they’re a foreigner but then when I hear them jabbering away in Azerbaijani I realize I’m mistaken. I still don’t get this.
License Plates: Azerbaijan has the typical European-esque license plates. A blue plate means a Taxi. Yellow means public transportation (with some exceptions, which I haven’t figured out). Red is diplomatic, and if you’re embassy-savvy you can tell which country by the numbers. However, I just recently noticed that ALL the license plates begin with either 90- or 10-. I find this surprising since there’s only 7 numbers/ letters on the plate, so the possibilities seem a bit limited when every car has those two numbers in the beginning. Then again, I wouldn’t be surprised if there were several license plates that are repeated.
Men giving up seats: I touched briefly on this before with my bus etiquette section, but I just want to reiterate it. It’s been happening more and more frequently as I take public transportation. In the past three days on at least one method of transportation I’ve had a man either get up for me, or make sure I find an empty seat on a bus. The other day some men were gesturing for my attention (and I was ignoring them at first, the skeptical person that I am) and it turns out they were adamant that I sit down in the empty seat in the front of the bus. Today a man got up for me on the metro. It happens really often. Sometimes I’ll look around on the bus/ metro and it’s usually only men standing. The states could take some lessons from Azerbaijan in this department.
Foreigners: Since Baku isn’t exactly your typical tourist spot, there aren’t many foreigners here. This also means that foreigners are increasingly easy to spot. I’ve taken to playing a little game in my head guessing what country a foreigner is from until I’m close enough to hear the language. The two biggest groups of foreigners here are Brits and Germans. I also tend to feel a bit of an affinity for any foreigner I see since I know they probably feel just as out of place as I do. The best part is that now that I’m starting to feel at ease walking around here, and I see confused men wandering around in obviously American clothing trying to find the bars. It makes me feel a bit more accomplished since I’m a young woman who has grasped the city and they haven’t yet.
My name: As I’ve already mentioned, my name means ‘mother’ in Azerbaijani. But beyond that it seems that it’s a bit difficult for most Azerbaijanis to grasp, and I’ve become ‘Ann’ to half the women at the academy. I don’t really mind this, to be perfectly honest, since it actually happened a fair amount in the States. I don’t get why everyone insists on calling me ‘Ann’ but here I figure it’s close enough to my name to not correct. One of the annoying things about my name though is the similarity to the Russian word for ‘she’. (She in Russian is pronounced ‘ah-na’, and I usually introduce myself as ‘Ahh-na’, if that makes any sense.) Anyways, a lot of time when I’m sitting around I can’t figure out if the other teachers are talking about me, or talking about another female and using the word ‘she’. It also means that when I walk around I keep thinking I’m hearing my name. Combine that also with the Azeri meaning of my name, and I’m totally confused. If only my name was something whole-heartedly American, like Jessica. Although I supposed that actually has its own drawbacks since no one knows how to pronounce that here.
Change collectors: At the front of the bus there’s usually a man, but sometimes a boy, who stands there and helps coordinate when to stop the bus, how long to wait at stops, and help collect the fares. On the buses you pay once you get off, and if you exit the bus from one of the back entrances you have to run up and give it to the change collector. This is helpful when the bus is crowded and there’s like five people standing in front of the driver. However, I don’t get if these men work independently from the buses and maybe get a cut at the end of the day, or if they’re commissioned by the transportation companies (if that exists?). It’s also strange because the age in these men varies so much. Sometimes it’s a guy younger than me, a guy my age, or a 40-something man. They also sometimes like to hang out the side of the bus and yell at pedestrians (no clue what they’re saying) or chat with the other men who are pseudo-in charge of these buses. They also ‘advertise’ their bus (or I think they are) and try to get as many people on as possible. This whole system confuses me but when I’m on the bus I pretend it’s all totally normal.
My boyfriend: I’ve officially had it with the marriage questions. Today I faced a slew of more questions. One of my co-workers showed me a picture of her kid and asked if I was married and then asked ‘well don’t you want to be in love someday?’ Subtle. I’ve actually encountered a couple of men who understand my desire to not be married. However, they don’t understand how I don’t have a boyfriend who’s waiting for me in the States. And once they get wind of this, it’s an open invitation to ask five million questions about my personal life in addition to my e-mail and phone number. I try to skate around this. I think it’s time I make up a boyfriend back home. I don’t condone lying but if I say I have someone waiting for me back home, it’s technically true- I just haven’t met him yet. Minor detail. I might test this out soon.
The Metro: I’ve lived in three major cities in my life: Boston, St. Petersburg, and Washington, D.C. In every city (albeit Boston doesn’t really count since about 4 people use the T) those who are getting on wait for the passengers to get off. This was even true in St. Petersburg, bless their Russian hearts.
Not here. Which is actually surprising, considering Bakuvians’ love for hospitality and kindness. But getting into a metro car is every man for himself, including trying to get off the car. It gives new meaning to the phrase ‘throw them ‘bows’ (elbows, for you older folk). You have to forcibly push past people to get off the car and same to get on. I made the mistake of trying to wait for someone to get off this morning until I noticed that everyone was surging ahead so I just followed suit. I only just made it onto the train.
Trip to the Academy: I was asking around on Monday how to get to the Academy via public transportation since a) I felt bad always asking to get a ride and b) I figured I wouldn’t have to sit around and wait hours for my one mere lesson if I could get there on my own time. So this morning I plucked up the courage and decided today was the day I would attempt the trip. While it’s walkable from my apartment to the metro, it’s much faster to get on a bus if in a hurry, so I started off my journey on a quick bus ride down to the metro. If it’s rush hour, this bus ride takes about a half an hour. I figured 8:30 would mean rush hour. Apparently not. My bus ride was under 10 minutes and so then I started leg #2- the metro.
The metro arrived right away and I had to go 5 stops. Again, this can sometimes take about half an hour if it’s rush hour. Again, I was wrong in my estimating time, since this took about 12 minutes.
After the metro ride I had to find bus #160, #171 or #24. I found bus #160 (it took me a little while) and it departed pretty quick. This bus ride took about 25-30 minutes.
All in all, I gave myself 2 hours to get there, and it took a little over an hour and that’s because I dallied a bit in finding the bus. Clearly I got to the Academy way too early this morning. BUT- I did it! All on my own! And the total cost of the entire trip is 65 geppik- so like 72 cents. Amazing how cheap public transportation is here.
Monday, September 28, 2009
Students and Salsa
Life is moving pretty fast here. It’s hard to believe I’ve been here almost a month! Also strange because I’ve been here a month and my schedule still isn’t totally set up yet.
I had another discussion group with the students on Friday, where some new students who joined and clearly did not want to speak English. It was a bit frustrating but finally they left and things got a bit better. We had decided on a topic to talk about but then when it came time to talk about it, they said they were ‘bored’ by the topic. Greattt. But when I asked them what they wanted to talk about they were silent. How can I know what interests you unless you tell me? So for this upcoming Wednesday I’m going to a) prepare more structure and b) hope that the silent boys don’t show up. (I’ve only taught classes of men so far. Twenty-two year old guys are really no fun… and they wonder why I’m not married.)
On Friday I finally sucked it up and called the director of the museum where I’m going to teach English as well so that the tour guides can communicate better. I was so nervous to call him because I know he doesn’t speak a lick of English, and my Russian abilities usually rely on a lot of pointing, gesturing and body language. Basically, I act like a five year old. Clearly this isn’t possible on the phone. So I prepared for about an hour on what I was going to say, wrote down a bunch of words and rehearsed it to myself, and finally worked up the cajones to press ‘send’ on his number. Once he answered and I identified myself, he starts saying (in Russian) ‘wait, wait, wait! One moment!!’ and then puts his son on the phone who can speak English. All that for nothing. I’ve noticed that the things you expect to be difficult are always easier and the things that you expect to be easy inevitably end up harder than expected.
Anyways we decided I would get picked up at 10 AM on Monday and go out to the museum (it’s far away from the city, hence the need for a ride) and they would just call me again on Sunday night to confirm this. So Sunday rolls around, I prepare this whole test to the give to the students so I can see what their level is, and a whole introductory lesson, and I wait for my call. No phone call. I eventually call the director again and this time his son isn’t around so I have to stumble through Russian to communicate with him and eventually I figure out he hasn’t been able to find a driver or gather the tour guides, so I won’t be coming in on Monday. He’s going to call me when he has it figured it out. I guess it’s good that I prepared the lesson already so I won’t have to later. I was honestly getting pretty excited to do some substantive English teaching where I would be more in control and having a class to myself. I really enjoy all the other teachers at the Academy and the students (who participate) are really great, but I feel a bit under-utilized there.
On that note though, today I went in to have my discussion class with the teachers and they all asked if I could come in and help out with some of their classes. They said they would tell me what they wanted me to talk about- they basically just want their students to hear a native speaker and be forced to speak in English since I won’t understand Azerbaijani. I jumped on this opportunity and said ‘of course of course!!’. I told two or three (not sure who was asking what) of the teachers I would help them out this upcoming Wednesday. At which point the other women were like ‘well, don’t you have your discussion club that day as well?’. My discussion club is an hour. They also said some stuff ‘but you’ll be so tired if you do all that!’. I told them I could handle it, considering all I’ll be doing is chatting in my native language, and I again reminded them that I’m there to help them with whatever they need. It’s as if they don’t think I’m up for anything substantive. I think part of this revolves around the fact that the Academy is very structured and a lot of these women have been there for a while so they already have their schedules and structure all figured out, so they weren’t necessarily prepared for me to come and help out. I’m hoping they start to realize more that I’m a resource for them, and that my assignment for the next ten months is to help teach English. Regardless, the women are all very nice and I like spending time with them.
Anyways today I had an adventure. My friend and I heard about beginner Salsa lessons for 30 manat (about $35) a month and they meet twice a week, so it’s a pretty decent deal. I figure I should probably learn how to move my body around since I realize I look a bit dorky attempting rhythm. My moves at the wedding consisting of tapping my feet together intermittently, trying to sway to the beat, and twisting my arms. Smooth, Anna.
The placement of these lessons is probably funnier than my moves, however. It’s actually pretty close to my apartment and the main train station. We had some directions from our friend where to go who does the advanced lessons because he’s super good, so he wasn’t there tonight. We had to walk down this one street and then look for a gray metal door (there’s a gray metal door every 5 feet in Baku) and (here’s the best part) next to it a sign that says “AZERBAIJAN DEAF SOCIETY”. Enter through this gray metal door and walk through the theatre. (Cue roughly 20 ripped-up red velvet seats with an antiquated stage.) Then wander up to someone who looks like they know what’s going on and stand there until they ask what you’re doing, and attempt in Russian/ English that you want to “tansevatz” (still can’t figure out Cyrillic- but that’s Russian for ‘to dance’). Luckily this woman put me out of my misery in stumbling through explaining salsa (remember how I revert to a 5 year old when speaking Russian so my next step would have been pantomiming salsa dancing to this woman. I’m such a foreigner) in Russian and she spoke English and brought us into a dance studio. (A dance studio in the deaf society… I really wish I understood this place, sometimes.) Anyways we met the instructor who spoke no English but was friendly. There were actually a lot of people and we met some other Americans there, some Texans working in oil and a Californian from the Embassy. Mostly it was Azeris though. I’d say there were about 30 people there in this cramped dance studio dancing salsa underneath the Azerbaijani flag. It was great- I love CIS countries. The woman who spoke English took the first-timers over in a corner and showed us the basic moves. I was paired up with the Californian guy who thankfully was around my level (read: very novice). The lessons lasted an hour and half, and then we paid the main instructor 30 manat with a plan to come back on Thursday. The instructor told me to practice at home. I guess he caught some of my moves.
I will conquer salsa dancing while here. I can’t look like a fool anymore when forced to dance. Who woulda thunk I would have come to Azerbaijan to learn how to salsa dance?
I had another discussion group with the students on Friday, where some new students who joined and clearly did not want to speak English. It was a bit frustrating but finally they left and things got a bit better. We had decided on a topic to talk about but then when it came time to talk about it, they said they were ‘bored’ by the topic. Greattt. But when I asked them what they wanted to talk about they were silent. How can I know what interests you unless you tell me? So for this upcoming Wednesday I’m going to a) prepare more structure and b) hope that the silent boys don’t show up. (I’ve only taught classes of men so far. Twenty-two year old guys are really no fun… and they wonder why I’m not married.)
On Friday I finally sucked it up and called the director of the museum where I’m going to teach English as well so that the tour guides can communicate better. I was so nervous to call him because I know he doesn’t speak a lick of English, and my Russian abilities usually rely on a lot of pointing, gesturing and body language. Basically, I act like a five year old. Clearly this isn’t possible on the phone. So I prepared for about an hour on what I was going to say, wrote down a bunch of words and rehearsed it to myself, and finally worked up the cajones to press ‘send’ on his number. Once he answered and I identified myself, he starts saying (in Russian) ‘wait, wait, wait! One moment!!’ and then puts his son on the phone who can speak English. All that for nothing. I’ve noticed that the things you expect to be difficult are always easier and the things that you expect to be easy inevitably end up harder than expected.
Anyways we decided I would get picked up at 10 AM on Monday and go out to the museum (it’s far away from the city, hence the need for a ride) and they would just call me again on Sunday night to confirm this. So Sunday rolls around, I prepare this whole test to the give to the students so I can see what their level is, and a whole introductory lesson, and I wait for my call. No phone call. I eventually call the director again and this time his son isn’t around so I have to stumble through Russian to communicate with him and eventually I figure out he hasn’t been able to find a driver or gather the tour guides, so I won’t be coming in on Monday. He’s going to call me when he has it figured it out. I guess it’s good that I prepared the lesson already so I won’t have to later. I was honestly getting pretty excited to do some substantive English teaching where I would be more in control and having a class to myself. I really enjoy all the other teachers at the Academy and the students (who participate) are really great, but I feel a bit under-utilized there.
On that note though, today I went in to have my discussion class with the teachers and they all asked if I could come in and help out with some of their classes. They said they would tell me what they wanted me to talk about- they basically just want their students to hear a native speaker and be forced to speak in English since I won’t understand Azerbaijani. I jumped on this opportunity and said ‘of course of course!!’. I told two or three (not sure who was asking what) of the teachers I would help them out this upcoming Wednesday. At which point the other women were like ‘well, don’t you have your discussion club that day as well?’. My discussion club is an hour. They also said some stuff ‘but you’ll be so tired if you do all that!’. I told them I could handle it, considering all I’ll be doing is chatting in my native language, and I again reminded them that I’m there to help them with whatever they need. It’s as if they don’t think I’m up for anything substantive. I think part of this revolves around the fact that the Academy is very structured and a lot of these women have been there for a while so they already have their schedules and structure all figured out, so they weren’t necessarily prepared for me to come and help out. I’m hoping they start to realize more that I’m a resource for them, and that my assignment for the next ten months is to help teach English. Regardless, the women are all very nice and I like spending time with them.
Anyways today I had an adventure. My friend and I heard about beginner Salsa lessons for 30 manat (about $35) a month and they meet twice a week, so it’s a pretty decent deal. I figure I should probably learn how to move my body around since I realize I look a bit dorky attempting rhythm. My moves at the wedding consisting of tapping my feet together intermittently, trying to sway to the beat, and twisting my arms. Smooth, Anna.
The placement of these lessons is probably funnier than my moves, however. It’s actually pretty close to my apartment and the main train station. We had some directions from our friend where to go who does the advanced lessons because he’s super good, so he wasn’t there tonight. We had to walk down this one street and then look for a gray metal door (there’s a gray metal door every 5 feet in Baku) and (here’s the best part) next to it a sign that says “AZERBAIJAN DEAF SOCIETY”. Enter through this gray metal door and walk through the theatre. (Cue roughly 20 ripped-up red velvet seats with an antiquated stage.) Then wander up to someone who looks like they know what’s going on and stand there until they ask what you’re doing, and attempt in Russian/ English that you want to “tansevatz” (still can’t figure out Cyrillic- but that’s Russian for ‘to dance’). Luckily this woman put me out of my misery in stumbling through explaining salsa (remember how I revert to a 5 year old when speaking Russian so my next step would have been pantomiming salsa dancing to this woman. I’m such a foreigner) in Russian and she spoke English and brought us into a dance studio. (A dance studio in the deaf society… I really wish I understood this place, sometimes.) Anyways we met the instructor who spoke no English but was friendly. There were actually a lot of people and we met some other Americans there, some Texans working in oil and a Californian from the Embassy. Mostly it was Azeris though. I’d say there were about 30 people there in this cramped dance studio dancing salsa underneath the Azerbaijani flag. It was great- I love CIS countries. The woman who spoke English took the first-timers over in a corner and showed us the basic moves. I was paired up with the Californian guy who thankfully was around my level (read: very novice). The lessons lasted an hour and half, and then we paid the main instructor 30 manat with a plan to come back on Thursday. The instructor told me to practice at home. I guess he caught some of my moves.
I will conquer salsa dancing while here. I can’t look like a fool anymore when forced to dance. Who woulda thunk I would have come to Azerbaijan to learn how to salsa dance?
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Day 4 at the Academy...
So I had my first day leading my discussion group with students at the Academy today. I got there early again since that’s the only time I can get a ride in and no one seems to think I can master the metro/ bus system by myself, regardless of the fact that I’ve lived in a couple cities now. I pretty much sat around and read one of my TOEFL books. At one point one of the fifth-year students blind-sided me and made me tutor him one-on-one for about forty minutes which was a bit of an awkward encounter since I had no clue what he wanted, and no preparation. He also kept asking me if I could help him every day and he didn’t seem to get that I have other commitments as well. I realize I’m just going to have to continue to put my foot down and say no to people.
At one point I was sitting in the department room completely by myself and this random man in a suit walks in. He starts speaking in Azerbaijani so I just respond in Russian saying “I don’t understand.” Eventually I explain to him that I’m teaching English at the Academy and he starts asking me a bunch of questions and sits down and has a 20-minute conversation with me. I was actually able to function and speak with him and understood most of what he said. It’s really strange to me how I can understand some people in Russian a lot better than others, and I’m not really sure what defines it. He definitely wasn’t a native Russian (since he was telling me I should learn Azerbaijani because it’s the national language) but I could communicate with him pretty well. With other people though I can barely understand what they’re saying when they speak Russian and they’ll be speaking about similar things that I did with this man. It’s very strange. Anyways, I still have no clue who this man was. He could have been someone important for all I know.
I had my class at 2:00 pm and the chair of the department was absent for the day so around 1:55 I was starting to freak out wondering what I was supposed to do, since there really wasn’t anyone in the main room coming to my aid. Sure enough one of the women whisks in and tells me “it’s time” and takes me to another room where I see 8 very boisterous guys in uniform. I chit-chat a little with two of the other English teachers who are in charge of these guys and then they leave and I had about a split second to regain my thoughts as to what I was doing. They quieted down when I told them to, and then started asking me about a hundred questions.
Since I’m really just leading a discussion club it’s pretty informal and the point is for them to just speak English. I had them go around and introduce themselves to me so I could get a handle on how comfortable they are with English and then I sat down amongst them and took all of their questions in turn. Since they’re fifth-year students their language abilities are all pretty good and they’re all comfortable with one another, which is good. Some of them are definitely more comfortable speaking English than the others, and there’s one guy who essentially speaks for the class. He did it in a good way, and he would frequently tell them to quiet down when I wanted to say something. Some of the guys were a little more shy, and I could tell they wanted to speak they were just nervous so they would only answer when I looked directly at them. They’re all my age, and started laughing when I said I was 22. I think there was a bet if I was married or not because one of them finally got the guts up to ask me and then when I answered “no” there was a lot of noise, and Azerbaijani.
We basically just talked about a variety of subjects, whatever they felt like. It was clear that some of them wanted to talk about more serious things (what Americans think of Russia and the former Soviet Union) and others wanted to talk about more 22-year-old topics (American girls… ha ha.) It was interesting to hear what some of them said and they were insistent that they help show me around the city and get my phone number. Once one of them asked for my number they literally all whipped out their phones and asked if they could take a picture with me. It was really weird, being ogled at like a zoo animal, and I had to remind them that I would be there the whole year, so we would have plenty of opportunities to chat. They apologized later for asking so many questions and they straight up admitted that they were just really intrigued by an American and had never really heard of an American coming to their part of the world.
We decided on a topic for next week- films, despite the strongest student’s insistence that they talk about aeronautical terms. I have another small group on Monday that will be the same level and I’m sure they will be quite similar. I had a whole lesson planned for today and once I walked through the door it was evident that none of it was really going to work so I just went with whatever happened. Now I know what to expect, and my biggest fear –that no one would talk- is obviously something I don’t have to worry about. Controlling them might be a little difficult considering they’re a bit rowdy and continually joked around in Azerbaijani and smacked each other with books, but they might have just been showing off. I think it will get easier with time. I’m just going to continue to prepare some ideas of what to do but I think the students will generally just ask the questions themselves and supply most of the talking. My only trouble will be to get the shyer students talking but I told this to one of the other women in the department and she told me they would be more talkative next week.
All in all… not too shabby! Now I just have to coordinate with the museum and start my next adventure in teaching.
Also random side note: I’ve been asked not once, but twice in the past twenty-four hours how to become a citizen of the U.S. and how to obtain a green card. I’ve stumbled through some vague explanation but clearly I should brush up on this.
At one point I was sitting in the department room completely by myself and this random man in a suit walks in. He starts speaking in Azerbaijani so I just respond in Russian saying “I don’t understand.” Eventually I explain to him that I’m teaching English at the Academy and he starts asking me a bunch of questions and sits down and has a 20-minute conversation with me. I was actually able to function and speak with him and understood most of what he said. It’s really strange to me how I can understand some people in Russian a lot better than others, and I’m not really sure what defines it. He definitely wasn’t a native Russian (since he was telling me I should learn Azerbaijani because it’s the national language) but I could communicate with him pretty well. With other people though I can barely understand what they’re saying when they speak Russian and they’ll be speaking about similar things that I did with this man. It’s very strange. Anyways, I still have no clue who this man was. He could have been someone important for all I know.
I had my class at 2:00 pm and the chair of the department was absent for the day so around 1:55 I was starting to freak out wondering what I was supposed to do, since there really wasn’t anyone in the main room coming to my aid. Sure enough one of the women whisks in and tells me “it’s time” and takes me to another room where I see 8 very boisterous guys in uniform. I chit-chat a little with two of the other English teachers who are in charge of these guys and then they leave and I had about a split second to regain my thoughts as to what I was doing. They quieted down when I told them to, and then started asking me about a hundred questions.
Since I’m really just leading a discussion club it’s pretty informal and the point is for them to just speak English. I had them go around and introduce themselves to me so I could get a handle on how comfortable they are with English and then I sat down amongst them and took all of their questions in turn. Since they’re fifth-year students their language abilities are all pretty good and they’re all comfortable with one another, which is good. Some of them are definitely more comfortable speaking English than the others, and there’s one guy who essentially speaks for the class. He did it in a good way, and he would frequently tell them to quiet down when I wanted to say something. Some of the guys were a little more shy, and I could tell they wanted to speak they were just nervous so they would only answer when I looked directly at them. They’re all my age, and started laughing when I said I was 22. I think there was a bet if I was married or not because one of them finally got the guts up to ask me and then when I answered “no” there was a lot of noise, and Azerbaijani.
We basically just talked about a variety of subjects, whatever they felt like. It was clear that some of them wanted to talk about more serious things (what Americans think of Russia and the former Soviet Union) and others wanted to talk about more 22-year-old topics (American girls… ha ha.) It was interesting to hear what some of them said and they were insistent that they help show me around the city and get my phone number. Once one of them asked for my number they literally all whipped out their phones and asked if they could take a picture with me. It was really weird, being ogled at like a zoo animal, and I had to remind them that I would be there the whole year, so we would have plenty of opportunities to chat. They apologized later for asking so many questions and they straight up admitted that they were just really intrigued by an American and had never really heard of an American coming to their part of the world.
We decided on a topic for next week- films, despite the strongest student’s insistence that they talk about aeronautical terms. I have another small group on Monday that will be the same level and I’m sure they will be quite similar. I had a whole lesson planned for today and once I walked through the door it was evident that none of it was really going to work so I just went with whatever happened. Now I know what to expect, and my biggest fear –that no one would talk- is obviously something I don’t have to worry about. Controlling them might be a little difficult considering they’re a bit rowdy and continually joked around in Azerbaijani and smacked each other with books, but they might have just been showing off. I think it will get easier with time. I’m just going to continue to prepare some ideas of what to do but I think the students will generally just ask the questions themselves and supply most of the talking. My only trouble will be to get the shyer students talking but I told this to one of the other women in the department and she told me they would be more talkative next week.
All in all… not too shabby! Now I just have to coordinate with the museum and start my next adventure in teaching.
Also random side note: I’ve been asked not once, but twice in the past twenty-four hours how to become a citizen of the U.S. and how to obtain a green card. I’ve stumbled through some vague explanation but clearly I should brush up on this.
My Big Fat Azerbaijani Wedding
No, I'm not engaged.
So as I said one of my co-workers, Dura, offered to take me to an Azerbaijani wedding on Tuesday. She picked me up promptly at 1 o’clock and right away I met her cousin who works for the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. I only managed to figure that one out after he had grilled me on every political subject possible and I tried to worm my way through diplomatic answers. Dura also decided en route that she needed to show me proper Azerbaijani cooking before the wedding (which didn’t start until 5 o’clock but she wanted my assistance in getting ready/ showing me off to her family) so she grabbed my hand and led me through the supermarket and bought a bunch of pastries and explained what they all were. I had been wondering what they called since I've been seeing these pastries in various places and it was good to finally get an explanation about all of them!
Once we got to her apartment I met her husband, son-in-law, son, and seven-month-old granddaughter. Everyone was very pleasant and I immediately was shown pictures of her daughter’s wedding. I really enjoyed talking with her family and husband about various subjects. They showed me pictures of Iman Reza, a holy Muslim site they visited and we talked about religion for awhile. Her cousin asked me if I was Protestant or Catholic (no dice) and when I told him I was actually Jewish he wished me a happy new year, which was very thoughtful. Once I said I was Jewish Dura got very excited because she has Jewish friends who live in Germany who are originally from Azerbaijan and said we would go visit them together. Then we all had tea (of course) and I had to eat about 10 pastries (which were all very good) and then about an hour later we had dinner, even though we were going to a wedding later. They also told me I wasn't eating enough. I swear, I’m convinced everyone I meet wants to make sure I gain as much weight here as possible. I also drank about 7 cups of tea (I wish I was kidding) since they kept pouring me more once I finished my cup.
So Dura tried on several dresses and then it’s time to go. Her neighbor was the groom and his family is Russian and Dura literally just dropped me off at their doorstep and I awkwardly sat inside alone and stumbled through Russian conversation with his mother and brother. No one seemed to care that some random American was hanging out with the family of the groom on the wedding day. Mind you, there were about three people there so it wasn’t like there was a big party- just me hanging out. Then Dura came back with her daughter, Tutu. Tutu is a year younger than I am, married and has a 7-month-old girl. Tutu was reluctant to use her English with me around but she was very sweet and would hold my hand whenever we wandered around for the rest of the night, which is typical here. (Dura did this too- she grabbed my hand and didn’t let go while we navigated the grocery store. I felt like a toddler but I know it’s completely normal for both sexes to do here.)
Then the actual ceremony began. We were in the groom’s wedding party and watched as three men with a clarinet, drums and accordion played Azerbaijani music in the dining room and the women in the apartment danced. Then the groom solemnly walked out of the apartment with 2 women holding a candle each, and a woman holding a mirror tied with a red ribbon. We all then ran into a 10-car caravan of Mercedes and Hyundais (random mix, I know) adorned with red ribbons and drove like maniacs throughout town to the bride’s apartment. Clearly en route the honking was non-stop since they were all trying to travel together and let everyone within a 10-mile radius know that someone’s getting married.
So we arrive at the bride’s apartment and the music begins again. The women with the candles and mirror stand up near the bride and groom and the father of the bride came over and tied a red ribbon around the bride. This is customary and signifies that the woman is the perfect match. The father of the bride and the father of the groom both said some words (I wish I knew what) and then all the women in the room danced. All of a sudden we pretty much ran out of the apartment and back into the cars to race to the restaurant where the reception was. At this point those 7 cups of tea were really starting to make themselves known so I was almost in pain by the time we got to the reception hall.
So we park the car and go into the hall. Everyone is supposed to sit down and the bride and groom wait in the limo for everyone to arrive and then make their grand entrance, set off by sparklers. Once they enter they say their vows, exchange rings and sign a marriage license. After that they drink champagne and proceed to their own table at the front of the room where they take about a thousand pictures throughout the night with the various guests (including me).
Clearly they were serving more food than I could even handle at this point, but I gamely kept eating (rough life, I know). The only people I saw drinking any alcohol were the Russian men (vodka, of course). Dura made a comment to me later in the night about how they only started dancing once they were drunk which is no doubt true. For the first four hours they played traditional Azerbaijani/ Russian music and yes, I danced. I don’t know what I did but Tutu and Dura grabbed me and pulled me onto the dance floor so I tried my best to twirl my arms and sway. I’m sure I looked foolish but I didn’t want to insult anyone. Dura, the ever-Azerbaijani mother matchmaker, made me dance with one of her son’s friends (he’s 19) and later told me he attends the Academy, where I teach. Tutu took pictures of me dancing with this fellow (on my camera!), which none of you will ever see. They all thought this was hilarious and they were quite clever for humiliating me. Even her son started laughing at me. I love being a foreigner.
We pretty much danced/ ate the rest of the night. The wedding started around 6:30 and went until midnight but we all decided to leave around 11. Dura said that the bride would throw the bouquet at the very end but neither one of us wanted to stick around, although I’m sure she would have gotten a great kick if I had caught it. Everyone was very nice and pleasant to me (as usual) and asked how I liked an Azerbaijani wedding. I even have some pictures with the mother of the groom and the grandmother.
The next day at work everyone asked me how I liked the wedding, what I liked about it, and if I danced. When I told them I did indeed dance they seemed very impressed. Clearly they didn’t see my dancing skills.
So as I said one of my co-workers, Dura, offered to take me to an Azerbaijani wedding on Tuesday. She picked me up promptly at 1 o’clock and right away I met her cousin who works for the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. I only managed to figure that one out after he had grilled me on every political subject possible and I tried to worm my way through diplomatic answers. Dura also decided en route that she needed to show me proper Azerbaijani cooking before the wedding (which didn’t start until 5 o’clock but she wanted my assistance in getting ready/ showing me off to her family) so she grabbed my hand and led me through the supermarket and bought a bunch of pastries and explained what they all were. I had been wondering what they called since I've been seeing these pastries in various places and it was good to finally get an explanation about all of them!
Once we got to her apartment I met her husband, son-in-law, son, and seven-month-old granddaughter. Everyone was very pleasant and I immediately was shown pictures of her daughter’s wedding. I really enjoyed talking with her family and husband about various subjects. They showed me pictures of Iman Reza, a holy Muslim site they visited and we talked about religion for awhile. Her cousin asked me if I was Protestant or Catholic (no dice) and when I told him I was actually Jewish he wished me a happy new year, which was very thoughtful. Once I said I was Jewish Dura got very excited because she has Jewish friends who live in Germany who are originally from Azerbaijan and said we would go visit them together. Then we all had tea (of course) and I had to eat about 10 pastries (which were all very good) and then about an hour later we had dinner, even though we were going to a wedding later. They also told me I wasn't eating enough. I swear, I’m convinced everyone I meet wants to make sure I gain as much weight here as possible. I also drank about 7 cups of tea (I wish I was kidding) since they kept pouring me more once I finished my cup.
So Dura tried on several dresses and then it’s time to go. Her neighbor was the groom and his family is Russian and Dura literally just dropped me off at their doorstep and I awkwardly sat inside alone and stumbled through Russian conversation with his mother and brother. No one seemed to care that some random American was hanging out with the family of the groom on the wedding day. Mind you, there were about three people there so it wasn’t like there was a big party- just me hanging out. Then Dura came back with her daughter, Tutu. Tutu is a year younger than I am, married and has a 7-month-old girl. Tutu was reluctant to use her English with me around but she was very sweet and would hold my hand whenever we wandered around for the rest of the night, which is typical here. (Dura did this too- she grabbed my hand and didn’t let go while we navigated the grocery store. I felt like a toddler but I know it’s completely normal for both sexes to do here.)
Then the actual ceremony began. We were in the groom’s wedding party and watched as three men with a clarinet, drums and accordion played Azerbaijani music in the dining room and the women in the apartment danced. Then the groom solemnly walked out of the apartment with 2 women holding a candle each, and a woman holding a mirror tied with a red ribbon. We all then ran into a 10-car caravan of Mercedes and Hyundais (random mix, I know) adorned with red ribbons and drove like maniacs throughout town to the bride’s apartment. Clearly en route the honking was non-stop since they were all trying to travel together and let everyone within a 10-mile radius know that someone’s getting married.
So we arrive at the bride’s apartment and the music begins again. The women with the candles and mirror stand up near the bride and groom and the father of the bride came over and tied a red ribbon around the bride. This is customary and signifies that the woman is the perfect match. The father of the bride and the father of the groom both said some words (I wish I knew what) and then all the women in the room danced. All of a sudden we pretty much ran out of the apartment and back into the cars to race to the restaurant where the reception was. At this point those 7 cups of tea were really starting to make themselves known so I was almost in pain by the time we got to the reception hall.
So we park the car and go into the hall. Everyone is supposed to sit down and the bride and groom wait in the limo for everyone to arrive and then make their grand entrance, set off by sparklers. Once they enter they say their vows, exchange rings and sign a marriage license. After that they drink champagne and proceed to their own table at the front of the room where they take about a thousand pictures throughout the night with the various guests (including me).
Clearly they were serving more food than I could even handle at this point, but I gamely kept eating (rough life, I know). The only people I saw drinking any alcohol were the Russian men (vodka, of course). Dura made a comment to me later in the night about how they only started dancing once they were drunk which is no doubt true. For the first four hours they played traditional Azerbaijani/ Russian music and yes, I danced. I don’t know what I did but Tutu and Dura grabbed me and pulled me onto the dance floor so I tried my best to twirl my arms and sway. I’m sure I looked foolish but I didn’t want to insult anyone. Dura, the ever-Azerbaijani mother matchmaker, made me dance with one of her son’s friends (he’s 19) and later told me he attends the Academy, where I teach. Tutu took pictures of me dancing with this fellow (on my camera!), which none of you will ever see. They all thought this was hilarious and they were quite clever for humiliating me. Even her son started laughing at me. I love being a foreigner.
We pretty much danced/ ate the rest of the night. The wedding started around 6:30 and went until midnight but we all decided to leave around 11. Dura said that the bride would throw the bouquet at the very end but neither one of us wanted to stick around, although I’m sure she would have gotten a great kick if I had caught it. Everyone was very nice and pleasant to me (as usual) and asked how I liked an Azerbaijani wedding. I even have some pictures with the mother of the groom and the grandmother.
The next day at work everyone asked me how I liked the wedding, what I liked about it, and if I danced. When I told them I did indeed dance they seemed very impressed. Clearly they didn’t see my dancing skills.
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