Southern Azerbaijan

It was REALLY cold

When I say cold, I mean in your bones, chilled so bad it takes days to warm up again. A good reason for this may be that all day long we were meeting in old school houses and government buildings that had no heat, often times no electricity, no running water - and only on rare occasions, a tiny wood burning stove to heat the whole room. It was cold. But the work was simply fantastic. Amazing. Gratifying. I worked for 3 weeks in the southern-most region of Azerbaijan, near the border with Iran, and traveled to 14 different communities and villages. I listened and spoke with community leaders and various women in these more remote villages about their views on gender issues facing women in Azerbaijan. It was an incredible journey, so the suffering cold and challenging food issues were well worth it. I hope for an opportunity to continue the work began, in some capacity of another, some day in the future.

The Return

It has been a long time since I updated the blog. It could be that I was unwilling to put a close on my experience in Azerbaijan - and an update would have required some sort of conclusory reflections on my time there...time that I was not ready to say goodbye to. Or it could be that I was just lazy and caught up in the daily goings-on of life. But there is almost too much to say to capture here.

I ended my year in Azerbaijan a touch early (work and funding issues allowed my contract to close as of December 31st). There were numerous celebrations and parties since I last made an entry- a fun Baku-style Thanksgiving dinner, totally ludicrous nights of dancing and debauchery at a local disco, crash bellydancing courses, late nights and difficult goodbyes.

I returned to the States just a few days before Christmas, and spend the first week in a blur of culture shock, Christmas madness, Wisconsin confusion and surreal acclimation back to my former life. Despite a few other interesting opportunities, I decided on a job in New York back at my prior organization (which was kind enough to want me back, so that was nice and cushy for me). A month has passed and, as I had been warned, I have spent a large part of that time feeling a little itchy...

So...it will come as no great shock to many of you who know me when you read that I am leaving again at the end of this month. This time for a short term assignment in Azerbaijan (3 weeks). My job in the U.S. has been generous enough to allow me to do it, and we hope it will be useful and beneficial for the organization abroad and at home for me to spend some time continuing the work on gender issues. I won't go into detail on this public blog as to the nature of the work, but I am excited and interested and intimidated by the challenge of what I will be working on next. And I am thrilled to go back to Azerbaijan for a short while to see the people I miss there and the good friends I've made along the way.

While this was always meant to close out my Azerbaijan adventures, it turns out that it is just the beginning of a new one. A new job, a new city for some of the time I am over there, new challenges, and certainly new hilarious adventures all await me. So stay tuned. Its not over.

Did you ever think it would be?

Above, Beyond and (sometimes) Below the Call of Duty

I've found that living abroad adds a certain element of surprise to what would normally be relatively mundane daily experiences. Sometimes those surprises are good amusing ones, and sometimes they are gentle reminders not to get too comfortable.

On Saturday I went with a group of friends to a disco for a night of dancing. The dancing was great, the music was good and it was a much needed release. After about an hour and a half of nonstop dance action, I went to the bathroom to try to wipe some of the sweat off my face, since I was drenched. In the bathroom was a little old Azerbaijani woman (babushka) working as a bathroom attendant. This is not an unusual thing in many countries. The lovely little babushka handed me a paper towel and I proceeded to wipe my face- ridding myself of layers of sweat. What I didn't know was that the babushka ALSO took a piece of paper towel for herself...and suddenly, quicker than I could realize what what going on she was up the back of my shirt and was helpfully wiping all the sweat off of my bare back...under my shirt. Well needless to say this was a surprise and a little awkward....but feeling accustomed to stumbling into different cultural norms I sort of went with it and tried to thank her in my poor Azeri Language skills. And then, just when I thought it was over (as I had discarded MY paper towel and she was finished with my back) she hikes up my shirt all the way to my neck and starts drying my entire stomach and chest. This woman barely stood as TALL as my chest...and she was generously taking care of all my sweat removal needs without my even asking. She even motioned me (through skilled pantomime) to lift my bra so she could get at all the sweat that might be hanging out under there as well. Of course I complied, it is culturally insensitive to not listen to your elders. Sadly, after this little woman went, what I would say was. above and beyond the call of duty - I had not one penny to give her as a tip (which presumably was part of her motivation to be so thorough in her duties). So I gave her my thanks only and returned to the dance floor feeling refreshed and ready for another hour of boogying down.

I wish the veterinary doctor I took my cat to today had taken his cue in professional thoroughness from the bathroom attendant. Sadly, I took my male cat to the one cat clinic that exists here (through the support of the international community) for a simple neutering procedure. It was supposed to take five minutes and by tomorrow he would be back to normal. After about twenty minutes I poked my head in the operating room and found the doctor and his wife exploring my cat's abdomen in search of HIS ovaries. It may not surprise those who know me to hear that I got just a touch upset. My male cat was put completely asleep (not what is supposed to happen with a male neutering procedure) and he was cut open and they had been looking for, without any luck, female organs! After the office manager intervened and it was made clear to them that this was indeed a BOY cat, of course everyone was very apologetic and kind...but I was somewhat inconsolable. I guess I feel like one of the small details of sterilization procedure on an animal would be to first determine what sex the animal is. A step that was overlooked in my little koshka's case. Tears all the way home with him (and with a wonderfully hilarious meowing taxi driver...that's right, my cat was passed out by the friendly driver decided that he would meow us all the way home...perhaps to try to cheer me up given my obvious emotional state). And now Koshka is on the bed, hopefully recovering after having not one but TWO procedures today, with his little side all stitched up for no reason other than the fact that, unlike the babushka, this person performed today just a touch BELOW the call of duty.

Prison Tattoos, Stale Alcohol Breath and Long Pinkie Fingernails (on men!)

I went to KIEV! And yes, that is what my final impressions were when I boarded the plane back to Baku - the men in the Ukraine seem to have an awful lot of prison tattoos on their knuckles; they smell of stale alcohol all of the time (but what can you expect in a culture where people start drinking vodka at 9 a.m. and all day long it is common for people of all social classes and occupations to wander the city drinking beer out of the bottle any time during the day as if it is made of water); and it is mysterious to me why so many of them also have long pinkie fingernails, except that it is pretty gross.

I arrived in Kiev and had the fun of navigating from the airport to my friend's house on my own- fumbling in bad Russian. In another taxi ride I was certain the driver told me to be careful of bad drivers who hike up their prices- and he called them "communist bandits" - which was pretty funny to hear in Russian. The sites in Kiev are interesting and old - but it is COLD IN THE UKRAINE! Women there all look like supermodels, tall and skinny and decked out in high fashion (even in freezing rain). And if you don't know this already - people there are VERY RELIGIOUS. They are Orthodox Christians - so even women in the smallest skirts you have ever seen on the highest heels anyone could barely walk in will cover their heads in a religious place and weep and pray and kiss the religious icons and cross themselves over and over again.

Lankaran - on the border with Iran

On a recent trip to the southern region of Azerbaijan, Lankaran, on the border of Iran I had the good fortune of checking out the local bazaar. It was an incredibly interesting place, and the cultural and religious issues facing women there are even more intense than other areas of the country. Here are a few photographs of some of the women there, who are rarely seen outside the home after 6 p.m.

Bellydancing!!

So on this latest trip to Istanbul we decided to go for it and buy ourselves semi- authentic bellydancing outfits at the grand bazaar. Why you may ask? Well to go along with the bellydancing lessons that I (and a group of wonderfully fun friends) have started to take. And let me just say now....it is hard work! We are working muscles that I didn't know I had. But our amazing teacher promises us that soon we will all be Shakira!!

Florence!

I had the incredible good fortune to be sent to Florence, Italy last week on work-related business. It also happened to coincide perfectly with my birthday. Naturally I took the trip as a welcomed break from life in Baku, and while the work was long and hard, I had two days at the end to simply enjoy the amazing food, beautiful people, sexy language, and mind blowing gelato. It was a perfect way to spend this birthday. Of course the experience wasn't entirely without incident. I did suffer an unfortunate cheese-related-injury (or CRI, as I am calling it). All due to my intense love and devotion to parmesan. My final night in Florence I found a shop and bought a big block of parmesan to take (smuggle) back to Azerbaijan with me. And in my excitement to taste it (it has been so long since I just ate a really good chunk of parmesan cheese!) I tried desperately to break off a piece...but it was too hard, and I was too impatient. I had no knife, so my next poorly judged moved was to use my fingernails. Well, let this serve as a warning to all those who follow after me - good hard parmesan cheese under the fingernails can CAUSE SERIOUS BODILY INJURY. At the moment it was happening I didn't realize it, perhaps because I was focused on the taste of the thing, but once my little feast was over the pain began to set it. I had cheese PACKED under the nails of my forefinger and thumb SO hard that I had actually separated skin from nail. Cringe. Days later and I am still feeling the effect of that CRI.

A better outcome was had when I made the somewhat impulsive decision to get my haircut in Florence. It had been almost a year, and I was getting tired of looking like a hippie...and, right or wrong, I assumed that even a bad haircut in fashionable Italy would be better than most haircuts I would get in Azerbaijan. So upon recommendation of a woman who lives in Florence, I fumbled through making an appointment (in very very poor Italian), and when the time came I went in armed with a photo and the spirit of pantomime. With no common language, I had a hilarious time communicating with all the staff, trying to show what I wanted, trying to compromise with the woman who was doing my cut (and insisting that she needed to take a LOT more off than I wanted) - and in the end I am pretty sure she just did what she wanted, with a team of cute Florentine shampoo girls and stylists all looking on and talking about the crazy foreigner with the ridiculously long hair. And although she took about 5 times more off the length than I wanted, she was right. Her sense of style is much better than mine, and in the end I love the cut. And she even did a quick eyebrow plucking before I left as well. Florence is dreamy.

A Make Believe World

So here are a few photos from the make believe world that some of us expats create here in Azerbaijan to pass the time. Three different parties are represented here, one is the 70's and 80's Disco party (where I went as Madonna in her "Like A Virgin" era, because I like to make myself laugh and it seemed appropriate here given the cultural emphasis on virginity and my job as the Gender Liaison :); the other two parties were a Murder Mystery party (characters and costumes assigned) and a Pirates of the Caribbean party (it turns out that oddly enough I have a lot of pirate-attire in my wardrobe in general so only a fake sword needed to be added). These theme parties are a lot of fun, and are an excuse for us to get dressed up, wear wigs and laugh a lot - which is a fantastic break from the real world for a night.

Other fun updates to report (other than my night as an unleashed Madonna - where my adolescent spirit rejoiced!) I should mention that this has been a packed month of busy work and travel, both for pleasure and work. In the midst of it all, I have been suffering for more than two weeks with recurrent eye infections that I apparently contracted from a kitten I was fostering (did anyone know that conjunctivitis is one of the few diseases that can be transmitted from animal to human?). So after numerous antibiotic eye drops and a recent visit to the health clinic I am hopeful that this week I will be able to rid myself of it. We'll see. Another new experience for me was learning how to give my cats injections of antibiotics (since my whole household got ill from the little rescue kitten I was fostering)...Injections in the back of the cats' necks. A scary thing but I did and feel a whole lot more capable now.

Nabran

So I went to a place in Northern Azerbaijan that is considered a summer house area (the dacha is one's summer home in the country). The area was called Nabran, and while I was there for 5 days for work reasons- we had expected it to be a luxurious break from big city Baku life. Of course it WAS a very nice break from the daily grind here, and very interesting to see another part of the country (about 20 minutes from the border with Russia). But is also was VERY VERY hot, had limited air conditioning, we ate all our meals outside in pretty areas in the woods by a stream (read: MOSQUITOS) and because I am a vegetarian I lived largely off of bread, cheese and the sunflower seeds I brought with me (and occasional Pringles that were sold at the on-site shop). The fantastic diet, coupled with perhaps the drinking of some sketchy water, brought on my first go around with fun stomach problems. Those stomach problems lasted through my return to Baku, but eventually I was able to go back to my only somewhat better diet of too-few vegetables and too-little protein. Life is good again.

Soon after my return from Nabran, I went on a short trip to London to visit with a a friend. It was so nice to eat fantastic Indian food and spend time relaxed in absolute luxury and pampering. It is good to have a break and rejuvenate. I don't have any major plans scheduled until October, but you never know what September will have in store for me.