My new mom and her family

If there is a mixed bag for me here in the ‘baijan, I would have to say that it is my loving, overbearing host family.  I’ve mentioned the concrete apartment that we live in before, but I haven’t had a chance to write about them, their personality, and what living with them is like.  The host family post is always a good way to give a small window into what my life is like, but I didn’t realize how odd living with a host family was for me until I was down with a 102 degree tempurature a few days ago.

First, there’s something incredibly comfortable about having a mother around when you’re sick.  I don’t think anyone can debate that.  Isn’t that how you realize that you’ve moved out on your own for the first time?  Realizing you are sick and you go to call out for someone to take care of you and no one is there is a hell of a realization to come to.  However, one gets used to it, so being back in the former, now unfamiliar, situation has taken a bit of work to accept.

One thing that my host mother, Franges (g like get), is particularly good at is trying to feed me.  Not always at feeding me things I like or want, but it’s always available.  This didn’t stop while I laying on my bed feeling sorry for myself whatesoever.  Combine this with the fact that I have no appitite, and my host mother has turned into quite the bother.

She was worried because I didn’t want to eat and because I had a fever so she went to my Azeri class which I was missing, and got my teacher to call the Peace Corps doctor (which I refused to do.  Maybe in a day or two, but just 24 hours into it was a bit hasty for me).  I didn’t find any of this out until I showed my face in class again a couple days later, and I was completely embarrased (by the ways my mom, which made me feel 13). 

I called her out on it at home, and asked her if she had gone to school and why she did it.  In very plain Azerbaijani, which I understood perfectly (amazing in itself) she said, “Jeff, you are my son.”  I guess I forgot that she had a motivation besides being incredibely obnoxious; she cares about me.

And I feel that’s how the rest of the family feels too.  I think that my host mom and I are particularly close because she doesn’t really leave the house, and neither do I, so we get to hang out a lot.  My host father on the other hand is never home, so I don’t know him as well. 

My host sisters, 18 and 25 years old, are both really nice to me as well.  They both work at a poultry factory.  I’m not exactly sure what the younger one does there, but I know the older one (listening to the ipod in the photos in the earlirr post) puts the chickens into the styrofoam trays and wraps them in plastic.  A less than glorious job that she is at 10 hours a day, with a day off every other sunday, and she earns 4 dollars a day.  Pretty absurd.

Coming posts: concrete, mad max, and teaching english

Hub Day

It’s hard to paint a picture of the Peace Corps for everyone back in the States that I feel does what I’m doing justice.  That being said, here’s some background info:

AZ5, which is my cohort, is the fifth PC group in Azerbaijan.  We’re broken up into three sectors, TEFL (Teaching English as a Foriegn Language, my group) , Community Economic Development (CED), and Youth Development (YD), which is in it’s first year.  We don’t see each other much, as our training varies quite a bit.  We all have language class from 9-1 six days a week, but in the afternoon, our sessions our different because people are discussing things from the (in my opinion) fascinating topic of microfiniance, to the less-inspired ‘chalkboard techniques.’  To each their own.

Every so often though, we get to catch up with one another, like we did on our cultural visit to a 6th century Turkish castle (pictures coming).  The other times that we all meet are on days called Hub Days.

 This is when business that relates to everyone is discussed.  Health, Security, and Safety are these sorts of topics.  Yesterday though, they had some interesting things to say. First of all, we had the Number 2 from the Embassy come and talk to us about the United States’ foreign policy on Azerbaijan.  Basically, this country has the highest GDP growth rate in the world, but they don’t have the act together to spend it very wisely.  He was a really fascinating guy to listen to, and i’m really excited to be here, now.

I’m running out of time, but the other thing that I wanted to write about was of my choice to be here.  Our supervisor, Rachel, said that every week we are here we are increasing our commitment, if we think this isn’t what we went to do, we need to seriously consider that, and perhaps jump off before we get outselves in so deep we dissappoint some people (like our school partners who apply for a year to get a volunteer).  I had to think “Is this really where I want to be?”

The answer is yes.  This is right for me, and I’m glad I’m here.  I could be back in Portland pulling shots of coffee, but instead I get to do all this.  How cool.

Coming Together

Again, I am at some internet ‘klub,’ and I don’t feel as though I have much time to write as I might need, but a small write-up is better than nothing.  The most recent news I have is that I spent the previous weekend with an actual PCV (Peace Corps Volunteer).  You might think that I am a volunteer myself, but in actuality, I am a lowly trainee.  After the three months of training I will swear-in, and then my T (Peace Corps Tranee, PCT) turns into a V.  Either way, I spent a weekend with a PCV and it instilled a new sense of purpose here in Azerbaijan.

First of all, I’d have to say that the training process drags on a bit.  We came in with a lot of enthusiasm, and doing the four-hour-a-day language class, with sessions afterwards about “games and visual aids.”  Needless to say, the airs been let out of our tires, so to speak.  I left to visit the PCV after three weeks of these classes, and I needed to get the hell out of my site (where i’m staying and studying).

It was great to see a successful, motivated volunteer who had lasted two years (he’ll be leaving in couple weeks).  It made the whole process seem real again, and more importantly, seem like something that I’ll be able to do.  I need to stay patient, focus on the summer classes we’ll be teaching next week, as well as the language, and hope for the best in these next five weeks, as they will be the last training I’ll recieve.  I might as well make the most of it.

But now, being friday, I need to take a breather and check out a beer or two with some trainees by a big cement statue of a dove.  They love cement here, and I hope to write about that soon (as well as photograph).

The business

As some may know, this blog is  titled 27 months, rather than two years because of the three months that peace corps has us do what is called ‘pre service training.’   There are three major components: Language, Culture, and Technical.

The language class (there’s a photo back there somewhere) is monday through saturday, for four hours a day.  it’s a bit exhausting.  Honestly, i’ve been floating through the class thus far, thinking either it will come to me or not, but in reality, i need to put some more work into it all.  This is my only chance to do this, and even though i will be forced to learn the language here, i can choose to do it with integrity or not.

I say the language will come to me, mostly because i’m doing the cultural training 24 hours a day.  Between the host family and the neighborhood kids that runup to me and shake my hand, i’m starting to figure this culture out a bit.  here’s one for ya:

 so the past couple days haven’t been the most pleasent for me because of a stomach bug thats been going around.  my host mom came in my room while i was lying on my couch.  she took a small blanket from my bed and wrapped it around he stomach and said ‘jeffrey, jeffrey.”  Apparently i needed to heat up my stomach.  cold is a big thing here.  if a woman sits on a cold stone, it might make her infertile.  it’s things like this that get me through the day.

as for technical training, we haven’t gotten into that yet, but we will be this week. i’ll post more as it comes up.

i’m out of time, and this keyboard is killing me.  sorry for the typos.

Photos!

I hope this holds everyone over for a while until I can figure out a better way to upload photos.  I’m not sure how much of a write up there will be, but I did write a description for them all.  Either way, they’re real.

Me and the Internets

I’m writing this from a small cave in the basement of the apartment building that my host family lives in. That means the updates will come more frequently. Stay tuned.

From the edge of the Caspian Sea

     It may sound a bit more glamorous than it really is, but everyday now I sit at the kitchen table to eat bread, drink tea, and watch the wind blow in from the Caspian Sea.  Not all Peace Corps volunteers get this view, but I happen to be fortunate because my host family lives in a settlement on the shore.  I wouldn’t say it’s better than anyone elses (some people’s host families are pretty well off, I’ve heard), but I feel lucky.

I was given the best room in the apartment, which is on the top floor of a 5-story, soviet-style building.  My host mother and father are great, and around most of the time.  My host father is a geography teacher, and my host mother’s job seems to be to make sure I drink enough tea.  I don’t know if this will resonate with eveyrone, but my host father looks like Larry David’s dad on Curb Your Enthusiasm.  I will post pictures soon.

One thing that has made things easy for my adjustment to life in the Caucausus is that Peace Corps seems to be weening me into my new life as an volunteer.  First there was Philadelphia, then Quba, where we had a few days of orientation, and now, we are along the Sea, taking an intensive language coarse, and trying to get used to the stares of children.

I’m happy to be here, and haven’t missed home entirely too much.  I made a very specific decision to dedicate the next two years of my life to this pursuit, and I feel as though I made the right decision.  Ask me again when its snowing…