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.