Dostlarim

Dostlarim



*My friends.



First off, my birthday was on the 28th, and we celebrated with class here in the 'Baijan. Hanging out with good friends in Zagatala (including a candle that kept singing Happy Birthday...even 12 hours later after it had been buried in the yard), and a brunch the morning of (crepes full of delicious fillings, including American Peanut Butter!).



I received the requisite Facebook wall posts (53 was where the last count came int, I think...), along with a slew of surprising texts and phone calls from some of my new Azerbaijani friends.



I love you American friends, but the Azerbaijani's know how to wish you a Happy Birthday. Various texts and toasts (yes, a toast) include:



“I wish you success in your life and work, much money;-)”



or



“May all your dreams come true.” *Sent to me by someone who asked my sitemate for my phone number so he could text that to me himself.



or



“May good things come to you because you are a good person.”



or



“Today is a simply day but special for u.because today is ur birthday!Happy birthday to u!I wish u all beauty,hapiness,joy,laugh,love,luck...kiss u...”



or



A phone call from a friend in Baku, who had his friends sing me Happy Birthday.





I got some pretty great gifts too, earrings, picture frame, geseng Az-y bracelet...along with the awesome goods from America (a box of presents, and some school supplies – one such supply was a package of glitter that decided to revolt and explode all of the inside of the box. Needless to say my room now looks like a Fairy threw up all over it...).



All in all, it was a very happy day, and wildly encouraging about my work at site, and a testament to my integration efforts. I have FRIENDS here! I mean, most of these individuals were only told once when my birthday was, and for ALL of them to remember...whew...that's pretty cool.



Though, if you note, as I describe some of those messages, some are from Azerbaijani “he's.” Which brings up an interesting conundrum, if you will...



Many of our close friends at site are 20-something year-old males.



Pros:

They can get stuff done.

They can leave the house whenever they want.

They are all making grand plans for life ahead.

They can help you find housing.

They drive.

They're awesome.



Cons:

Hanging out with them is compromising for a young unmarried female.

The entire town knows who your friends are, and it's not normal to be just friends with a guy.

Going “walking with a man” is seen as “pis qiz” or “bad girl” behavior, especially if it is dark or almost dark out.

You are lured into a sense of comfort with them because they seem very much like the friends you know, but you do tend to forget that they were still raised in a very strict, very different culture from your own.



We need to be careful, is more the point, but it's another unfortunate aspect of our lives here. We cannot just be friends with guys, without arousing suspicion, or having to explain ourselves over and over again. In America, if you want to go to your guy friends house and hang out until whenever, you can do that. We have to be home by dark, and we have to make sure that someone else is in the house with us (ie: a mother, a sibling, etc.). If you want to invite your guy friend over to play a board game in America, you can do that. Here, we're pretty much not allowed to have males to our home unless it is announced ahead of time, and is for tea and a meal (and again, if we're supervised by basically the entire family). My friend in another rayon has just taken to calling her male sitemate her brother becacuse she finds it immediately quells the rumours that they are engaged, lovers, or up to something. Other male PCVs have struggled to get together before lesson with their female co-teachers because of jealous husbands, and suspicious mother-in-laws. What has been most aggravating, for me, is simply explaining to these new guy friends why we cannot hang out with them all the time, and why we have to be home so early. It's not fair. But it's life.



I spoke to a woman before coming here about what it's like to be a woman in some of these developing countries – especially the muslim ones. She told me that usually, there were three genders. Men, Women, and The Foreign Woman. The people she spent most of her time with were men, and so she was often treated as one of them – served dinner by other women, made to sit at the men's only table of the room, etc. But when it was not business, she was in the kitchen, drinking tea and gossipping. This is both liberating, and confining. I find it more deceptive, because it is incredibly easy to get too comfortable, and lose sight of the line. Cues that are ok in one country, transfer as something completely different in another.



The word for friend in Azerbaijani is “dost” but we've come to find out that term is used for males. “Refiq” is the word that girls use to describe their friends...but for a woman to say she has a “dost” has raised some eyebrows. Again, sometimes it is easier for us to use “refiq” even though we know full well it doesn't quite apply...just because it keeps things calm.



Though of course this brings up another issue – one that books have been and could still be written about -



Can boys and girls ever just be friends?



I think a lot about male and female relations in this country – how they are here, how they are in America, and what I think 'normal' should be. It comes back to cues: the ones you send, and the ones you receive. Hugging is not ok between male and female, unless they are related, though of course hugging and kissing with members of the same sex is completely acceptable and in fact encouraged, regarless of the status of your relationship. But I get those physical cues, what about the other ones, newer technologies, like text messaging? You give a guy your number in America and it means one thing, but this is a main form of communication in this country. And people here like to keep in touch. Is that flirtatious? Is that normal?



So confusing. Who knew that I'd be dealing with all of these social complications? (This doesn't even breach the subject of the many women who keep trying to marry me off to their sons. But that's just in jest. At least I think so...I certainly hope so...)

February's a Bear...

February is coming to a close, and that means two things...my birthday (!) and the end of the crummy weather in Azerbaijan.

Everyone here has told me that February is the month to get through, and once you do that, Novruz is around the corner, spring will come, and then summer, which means hiking and gorgeous weather.

February has been tough, but good.

Our conversation clubs will start next week, which is very exciting, to finally be able to tell people that something is in the works. We'll have five clubs, well, we'll have four clubs, I'll have five because I have no backbone and had about 12 extra students I couldn't say no to. So I'll teach 15 hours a week, and then have clubs for an extra 5, leaving me the weekend and evenings to guest (a full time job), learn Azerbaijani better (because my lovely family is still convinced I know nothing...thanks guys, thanks...), and keep myself sane.

No problem.

A little tidbit about guesting: It's a job, but it's a great one. It involves going over to someone's house, being fed enormous amounts of food, being fawned over (usually of the, 'oh you're such a beautiful girl' variety, or 'you're so sweet and so wonderful to come here,' etc. etc.), and a ton of inevitable awkwardness.

The other day, I went to a birthday party for a girl from Ukraine, whose family is from Azerbaijan. I know her uncle's family (they are incredibly kind to me – everytime I go they offer to do my laundry, and insist on sending me home with cake), and was invited to the party by them. The girl and her sister only speak Russian, the family I was with knows a little Russian and Azerbaijani, and there am I, left to fend for myself in the mix. Let me tell you, my brain doesn't know what to think right now because of all of the languages that are spinning around inside of it.

Why I Love My Students

 So last week, my program manager came from Baku to check up on me, see how I was doing, talk to my director, and observe a class.

 Now, a lot of people here are very concerned with reputation, looking good, having other people think good things of them.  From this impulse, my director went into my 6^th form class, and scared the crap out of my students by telling them my boss was coming.  She told my students they must all be present, they must show up with books, copy books, pens, and pencils, pay attention, and be good.  Because we were having a guest from Baku, and it was important that she see them at their best.

 Of course the poor kids have this panicked look on their faces, and I'm in the doorway smiling, sheepishly.  I head out, and come back the next day, to find a most miraculous sight.

 All of my students, sitting, in neat little rows, at the front of the class.  Instead of the normal chaos I walk into, and have them sitting haphazardly all over the room, they are poised, and quiet.  Each student is dressed up, the girls in the typical uniform-esque burgundy blazers, and even one shy little boy in a suit.

 I begin to ask questions, and instead of them shouting out the answer, they quietly raise their hands.  Instead of jumping out of their seats, they wait to be called on.  When I do so, they stand, and answer, neatly and cleanly, “The weather today is sunny.  It is cold.  I like winter.”

 I almost fell over.

 You guys are killing me.

 It was hysterical, because these kids are not bad kids by any means, but they are rambunctious, and they like to play.  They tease me, I tease them, and we play and hop all around the class.  The second they found out my superior was coming, they snapped into shape and did exactly what they thought they needed to do to make me, and her, happy.

 I was so proud.

 Granted, my director didn't get to see the most accurate representation of them (though the other representation is fabulous – they are really good students -  it is just not 'normal' by Azerbaijani Education System standards), but I'm about 90% sure they did all that, and put on that little show, for me.

 I think they knew that it was important for me to show my director that things were going well, and it was important for all of us that things go smoothly.  And you know what, they put their best foot forward.  And things went swimmingly.

 I like my students, a lot.  And I'm excited to do more with them.  I'm glad I started with this age, because hopefully, I can stick with them for the next two years.  I have some plans, specifically pen pals with my friend's school in Ohio, and hopefully mini research projects at some point, but otherwise, I kind of want to see what they can come up with.  Because I bet if I let them try, they'll come up with some really great stuff.

Don't Be The Bunny

I am a Gleek.

 I am officially obsessed with this show.

 Why?

 Because that was my highschool.

 Hopefully, I wasn't as annoying as Rachel, and I know I wasn't nearly as talented vocally, but I was all about the theatre and I was all about being involved at school.  (I was president of Drama Club and Show Choir, and co-president of French Club.  I was also in Marching band for the 1^st two years of h.s., and in National Honor Society my last year.  Along with auditioning for community theater productions, and taking classes. Yeah, I had the bug.)

 Damn, I miss performing like that.  Just silly, nonsensical, nonserious things.  Singing, smiling, dancing.  It was so much FUN!

 Now I have, like, work to do.

 It's ok though, I like the work I'm doing.  But all of this, of course, makes me think about my performing days.  I was serious about theater for about 10 years of my life.  Serious like, “I'm going to be an actress,” serious.  Then I tried to play it down, but now, I miss it again.

 I don't know what any of this means.  What I'm going to do about it – if anything.  What I do know, is that I would hate to never perform again.  Which is an entirely serious possibility.  But I think what I would hate even more, would be a life completley devoid of the arts.  Not just creativity, but the arts.  I read an old copy of the NYTimes Arts section and just ache, wishing I could see those shows.  Wishing I could see something like those shows.

 So I think that's why I'm going to have a drama club.  :-)

 I've been trying to get my students to think like that, we've got these really silly text excerpts in the English books.  I had the students in once class act out 'The Boy Who Cried Wolf.'  (Though of course it was 'The Girl Who Cried Wolf.')

 Let me just say, it is very hard to side coach Azerbaijani students, in English, when you are playing the role of the sheep who gets eaten by the wolf.

Stuck in Baku

To get from site to Baku, I can either take an 8 hour bus ride (during the day because I'm not allowed to travel by roads at night), or a 12-hour night train.

The night train is a weird weird experience.

It's a Soviet-era train (circa 1960 at least), rickety, old, not insulation, and perfectly efficient to cram as many people in as possible. You get on around 8, go to "sleep" around 12, wake up (realize the train is actually going in the opposite direction, thanks to a track-switch somewhere in the middle of the country), and arrive in Baku around 8am.

At least, that's what should happen.

What happenned to me on Thursday night was this:

Got on around 7:00, ate some snacks, prayed as my friend was racing the train (by taxi) to get to the station before it left (because she had already missed it at the previous station), met about 7 other friends who got on at varying stops along the way, went to bed around 11, woke up at 8, freezing, and realized the train was not moving.

NEWSFLASH: MASSIVE SNOWSTORM IN BAKU, CITY SHUT DOWN, TRANSPORTATION AT A STANDSTILL

We didn't arrive in Baku until about 2:30. Turning a 12 hour train ride into a 19.5 hour train ride. We arrived in near white-out conditions, and had eaten all of our rations the night before. With the exception of a few walnuts and some granola bars a few other volunteers had brought.

We get out, head to our favorite pub, and inhale about as much food as we should have the entire time we were on the train.

The entire city is covered in a sheet of ice. At least 2-inches thick in some places, I bit the dust twice, and am hoping to keep it that way. AZ6s in town for MST were prohibited from leaving, PC deemed it too dangerous, and even if they were allowed, nothing was coming in or out of town, and train tickets were booked up through the week.

So, I've been stuck in Baku. Fortunately, I'm staying in a pretty great apartment with an expat friend of a friend, and I've actually had a pretty good time. A rather normal night out last night, plenty of internet time, and, as always, lots of money spent on food I'm used to. Oh, and a lot of coffee.

It's always weird to be in Baku, because it's a completely different world. It's not site, but it's not America, but it's this weird hybrid. You can't get away with all the same things, but you can get fooled into thinking you can. After spending all weekend speaking English, you're suddenly shocked when you hop into a cab and can only communicate by speaking Azeri.

I needed the break though. Things have been good at site, I'm having fun and making friends, but it's been exhausting. A lot of stuff going on, and emotionally, it gets a little taxing.

Two weeks ago I tried to start conversation clubs, but unfortunately had to end them because my counterpart wasn't allowed to come. She's 24, married, speaks great English and is an incredible teacher. But because she's married, she's not allowed to really do anything without getting permission. She was only allowed to come to the first one because she cried to her husband, and agreed to bring his nephew.

It's really sad, and really frustrating. Because all I can do is watch...

So of course, on my 'final straw day' 30 kids showed up, and me. It was a zoo, and I really got nothing done. So, I've decided to start interviewing students. Which is both wonderful, and horribly discouraging. My 6th form students are remarkably more fluent than my 11th form students, and I want to take ALL of my 6th formers, and none of my 11th formers. Which is really really hard (because the 6th formers are really darn cute too...)...

BUT, it's good I guess. I'd rather have to turn kids away than try and con them into coming. The plan is to have two groups, 6-8 and 9-11, each with 30 kids...but each group will split into two subgroups who will meet once a week. This first group is the one that we hope to work the most closely with, who can help us run more sustainable projects in the community, and can continue to do work when we're gone.

Sometimes I feel like I'm assembling a little army....

On a completely unrelated tangent, I've come to the realization that Beauty and the Beast is a lot like Balaken.

Little town.

You know everybody, everybody knows you.

I'm about as weird as Belle is for reading books and being independent.

There's always a chauvinistic guy trying to convince you to marry him.

The town is always gossipping about you.

The town gossip usually revolves around who you are going to marry.

The teapot runs the kitchen.

Guesting is HUGELY important, and they always throw out a TON of food.

And, when she sings the reprise of "Belle" (35s in the video) and goes running out of her house to lie in the fields and blow dandelions, there's a landscape of mountains cut in two by a river.

That, is Balaken.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DeDPySP4nIw

The obligatory blog...

I should post, becacuse it's been a while.

 But I find that to say everything I want to say, I might be getting a little too deep into things, and might be revealing a little too much.

 So for now, let me say, things are going well.

 I'm enjoying being here, and though things continue to be weird with my family (let me just say: crass, tactless), I am finding ways to get out and ways to move around.

 Comparisons abound, which is maddenning.  And the more work I do, the more work I find that needs to be done.

 What is encouraging?

 My students.  They are, hands down, incredible.  At some point during the 10^th form, they go crazy and get rude and hormonal.  But until then, they're wonderful.  I'm going to have to start choosind students to come to my clubs, which is going to be incredibly difficult.

 For my 9-11 form club, 60 students signed up.  For my 6-8 form club, 30 students showed up on the day that I DIDN'T have a counterpart.

 And I know for a fact that I still didn't have representation from all the classes.

 People continue to ask me to tutor, and people I don't even know are stopping me at the post office, at the train ticket office, in the shop, and calling my home, asking about tutoring or conversation clubs.  Part of me is certain that this is only an effect of the community hearing about “Free English Clubs” BUT, whatever the case, there is a desire for education.  These kids do want to learn. And they do.  One of my 7^th formers just wrote up a thing about Mexico ('cause she really likes Mexico), to recite in class.  For fun.  Because she wanted to.

 It's pretty cool.

 Completely unrelated, I just finished Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close by Jonathon Safron Foer.  (Same guy who wrote Everything is Illuminated, which I have to read next.)

 Oh. My. God.

 It's my new favorite book.  I sat there alternately crying and laughing, and it was just fantastic.  Really, a beautiful book.  Made me desparately miss NY...that and my How I Met Your Mother obsession...(finished all 4 seasons...anyone with the last ? of Season 4, and Season 5...send 'em my way!)

 I've now moved on to Stones Into School, Greg Mortensen's new book (same guy who wrote Three Cups of Tea, though this one he actually WROTE...it's in the first person and a better read).  Three Cups of Tea is one of the reasons I joined the Peace Corps in the first place, and sort of re-inspires me as a teacher (because truth be told, I was never that crazy about teaching English...).  Also a great book...not done with it yet, but the work he does is just incredible.  He will do things that no NGO will ever touch, and as often as he says he's just and ordinary guy, well that's just a lie.  He's my hero.

Loose Ends...

Well, Christmas finally came to Balaken, in the form of a few care packages. The one from my parents was so heavy that I had to stop approximately three times on my way home from the poct because I was sort of afraid my arm was going to fall off.

And rumor has it that snow is just around the corner, the temperature certainly feels like it, but as it continues to rain, I fear that snow is never going to come. Though I see it on the mountains every time I walk down the road...not to brag or anything...

My pec, which I have affectionatly named ET (it's really old and looks kind of like an alien – though for those of you who don't know me so well, I have a tendency to personify just about everything), and I are having a love/hate relationship. Sometimes ET likes to turn off whenever he feels like it, though I suspect that it is just because he looks like he's about 40 years old, and for a pec, that's pretty old. But he's working hard, and keeping me warm, so I can't complain about him too much.

School is going well for the most part, but of course, I am continually reminded of the beaurocracy of the system and the realities of corruption in Azerbaijan. It's disheartening, because I've met so many people who have been so good to me, but then to know that they are all wrapped up in so many kinds of shady dealings (or at least shady to me – apparently very normal to them) is really sad.

The other day though, I went and got my hair done! A friend of mine, who happens to be a teacher at the school, also has her own beauty salon in town, and agreed to do my hair. We went to the shop, bought some dye (my sun-lightened hair was great over the summer, but now that it has started to grow out, I looked like a crazy, bored, middle-aged, house wife), and headed over to her shop. I have to say, it was adorable. It really felt just like a small town beauty shop. She and her co-worker did my hair, as people wandered in and out, without appointment, coming in for a blow-out, a hair cut, a manicure. Another beautician's daughter was there, this precocious little six-year old who reminds me so much of my cousin. She watched everything that happenned, was buzzing around, holding the dye, running to fetch clips, insisting on helping sweep the floor. Of course they introduce me as 'the young English teacher' and test the girl on her numbers and introductions. I came in just as they were finishing lunch, which of course was enjoyed in the salon, at the table, while listening to Turkish pop on the TV.

That's one thing that, despite all of the difficulties I'm having (and as happy as I always try to sound on this blog, life here is not without its difficulties) I have found some incredible people. Just like the friends I made in Xirdalan, there really are a lot of people here who just want a friend. And it has nothing to do with the fact that I know English, or that I'm this shiny new play-thing (which is how some people definitely do treat me here), it just has to do with the fact that I'm away from my family and friends, and they know that I need a friend, and they want to be that for me.

And really, on top of that, I barely speak their language, and they barely speak mine...

It really makes me realize a lot about communication, about the ways we communicate, and about the ways we interpret things. This friend who did my hair, knows only a few words of English, and I, clearly, know only so much Azerbaijani. But everytime I think back on the “conversations” we've had, I automatically translate what she says to me into English, and these memories are replayed in English...even though none of them actually took place in English. I value her as a friend not because of anything she has actually said to me, but because of how she acts towards me, the things she has done, the way she grabs me and hugs me every time she sees me. So much communication happens independent of language, and I think that's the only reason I'm able to get by so well here, is because I have been trained (thank you Meisner) to pick up on all those cues.

The language is going well, and on (what I think is) a slightly monumentous occasion, I had my first dream in Azerbaijani last night. Or at least part of it was. I don't remember what I was doing...or really what happenned, but I just remember waking up, thinking in Azerbaijani. I doubt that the grammar was correct, even in my dream, but that's a pretty good indicator of processing, right? I remember in high school playing too much DDR, going to bed and seeing the arrows flashing in front of my eyes. I suspect this is sort of similar...