Would You Rather/ Potty Talk

This past week, we went on site visits. All the Az9s were matched with an Az8 in order to see what life is like for a PCV in Azerbaijan. Also we got to see different parts of the country other than the capital area.

I was sent south, to Beylagan, with my clustermate, Sam, to visit the intrepid Stephanie. The bus ride was about 5 hours, and we got off in the town center, so to speak, and were greeted by Stephanie plus her site mates Jenna and Myriam. Since it was Stef's birthday, we went to a small Turkish restorant that had an American diner theme going on. Walking the streets, we got due stares for being 5 foreign girls in a town where Peace Corps had never been before the Az8s. (Myriam is actually an Az7, but she lives in a village outside the town.) I haven't informed you blog-readers yet, but foreign-looking women, especially of the white variety, are assummed to be Russian prostitutes here in Azerbaijan. They just don't get tourists at all. We just need to know the right lines to deal with any harrassment that may arise: "I'm not Russian. We are American. Be on your way," etc.

But I digress. (More on the issue of harassment later, when I learn more about it.) Stef actually lives in a small villiage accessable by a 10-15 minute taxi ride. When I say a small villiage, I mean small. Like farms with houses, a couple small stores, and a school.  She lucked out and landed herself a whole house- complete with a yard, outhouse, and showering stall (outside as well)- at a very PCV-friendly rate. She also had bedding to spare: enough for 40, if needed, in the form of doshaks, which are futon-like sleeping pads, traditionally given as a dowry from the bride's family. In Stef's large room looms a small mountain of them; hauled over by the neighbors who observed that she had room to spare for storage. Only God knows how many weddings and eons are contained amongst those old dusty things (which are usually used only on the first night of marriage . . .). All I know is that their ancient crust (ie- probable billions of dustmites) attacked my poor respiratory system , and I chose not to sleep in that horrid room for the remainder of my stay, opting instead for the drafty living room with minimal padding, not in the form of a vengeful doshak.

But again I digress. It's just pretty funny how the neighborhood brought over their crap without asking and dumped it on Stef. And that the crap contained creepy virginity-losing connotations. And that we used them (minus me after the first night).

Anyways, the five days at Stef's site were very eye-opening for me. Thinking about "roughing it," and being "under conditions of hardship, if necessary," in Peace Corps is woefully different from living it. I'll use the toilet situation as an illustration. Yes, I had read that the toilet is outside for most homes, and I packed a head lamp accordingly. I thought about how it would suck at night to have to leave the house and go out into the cold to pee. But I had also devised clever schemes, such as forcing myself to use the toilet every evening before I get into bed, or even stashing an emergency bottle or houseplant for when, you know, laziness and comfort prevail over individual pride or sanitary standards (woah! Sorry if this might be tmi, but I don't censor myself. Besides, it's a widely used practice amongst PCVs.). So when now, in real life, I trudge to the outhouse, the full situation unfurls in front of me: the distinct stench of human waste; the cockraoches and crickets and spiders; the burn in my quads and the chilly draft on my bare ass.

How did I fare? Well, although the toilet situation is unpleasant, it's not unbearble. And during the three days, I got accustomed to it quite quickly. People say that one of the amazing things about Peace Corps service is experiencing how easily humans can adapt to new situations. So by my third day in the village, I was down with the squatty potty. Then it got cold and rainy. I see now where my line of misery is drawn, and that is between a certain degrees celsius and another. For now, the cold disables me, depresses me, and literally makes me sick. When I imagined my Peace Corps service, I assumed I'd be in a warm climate, in which, in all honesty, I could do anything in. But this autumn and winter is going to be the biggest challenge of, dum dum dum, my whole life (literally). I hope to overcome my weakness to the cold (along with my phobia of roaches) during my Azerbaijan stay. These are definitely on my list of "Things Peace Corps is Going to Do for/to Me." Still, I am going to pray for a host family at site that has an indoor toilet. Cold weather can be dealt with outside the home, and roaches on the inside.
Back to Beylagan! Overall, our site visit was a lot of fun. The best parts were the laughing and sharing of tales, along with the food: scrumptious organic produce, farm-fresh eggs and milk (drunk warm, omg it was so delicous and wholesome), and even popcorn, which is always a delight. On the last night, we consolidated to Stef's bedroom for sleeping, because she had acquired a brand-new space heater, just in time for the rainy and chilly weather. We played "Would You Rather," which is a silly card game that has two situations written down that you must choose one of, and have the other players guess which one you chose. Most of the situations are embarassing and/or painful, such as, "Would you rather have eyelashes that extend ten inches straight in front of you, that cannot be cut (they always include specific conditions like that for all the smart-asses who play and try to get around the situation); or, have eyebrows that extend all the way down, forming a circle around your face?" Ha ha. Another was, "Would you rather have to wear the same pair of underwear for a year without washing them, or the same pair of socks?" So that was a lot of fun, and we realized that Sam and I, as trainees, are subjected to an actual game of "Would You Rather."

 This upcoming week, we have Site Placement Interviews, during which Peace Corps Azerbaijan staff sit us down and ask us what we prefer for our permanent site. Essentially, the main choice before us is between a rural or an urban site. There are advantages and disadvantages to both: in a rural setting, you may have less shopping selections, but do have neighbors with fresh eggs and milk to spare; the school may be behind city schools in terms of student learning, but expectations of you as a teacher are lower; finally, everybody in a villiage knows you, so you are only the strange foreigner for a short time before they become familiar with you. In an urban setting, you will probably be a strange foreigner every day for the next two years, simply because the volume of people is larger; you must be stronger and more dynamic in work and in the classroom; however, your bazaar will have a better selection, and maybe even you will have sidewalks to walk on instead of muddy roads.

"Would You Rather" is a noggin-buster for sure, and I have weighed my options considerably. For me, I believe a better fit will be an urban or suburban setting. Not only do they offer better protection from the elements (specifically the cold ones!), I feel that social and institutional change is more desired from residents of cities. As a Peace Corps volunteer, it is my job to transfer the tools for change to the locals in my community who want to enact it. I think that trying to make a change in a rural village where not much ever changes would be too tedious and disheartening for me. This is what I'm going to say at my Site Placement Interview, so please wish me luck in landing an awesome site! (Oh yes, and of course I am going to ask for as warm a region as possible!)

These were the thoughts coursing through my mind as Sam and I rode back to Xirdalan. Please read her blog post about our trip to The Bey, as she retells the placenta story, as well as a rundown on animal-transporting, with perfection: http://samlandofaz.wordpress.com/2011/10/21/feats-of-animal-transportation/#comment-11  .

After the marshutka driver dropped us off in an intersection that he guessed would lead us home, we got to use our dazzling language skills (which are approximetly Azeri toddler-level) to actually find our way home. It was so good to be back in Xirdalan, specifically indoors with chay and our cluster (including Rashad). It felt suspiciouslly like home, but I guess I'll allow that feeling since it was so damn good and I am in need of somewhere to call home. Until I uproot myself again, consider me content here.

Man Talimchiyam!

For some unknown reason, I was under the false impression that PST (Pre-Service Training) was going to be easy. Sure, our days are planned for us, and three meals a day are prepared for us, but, hello, we are learning a new language, a new culture, and  new profession. Also we have homework. Ugh.
My weeks run as follows: language classes in the morning, 9 to 1, lunch break 1 to 2:30, and technical training (TEFL) 2:30 to 6. I am a very tired girl when I come home, but I need to socialize with the host fam, do my homework, and study. Mostly I do the former.

So my host family is awesome. I'd say my living situation is a ten out of ten; their house is comfortable and contains all the amenities I desire (although the internet has been being leeched from the neighbors, and I think they are on to me). Both of my sisters, Rasmiya, 25, and Zulfiya, 22, speak English at an advanced level. Rasmiya is a teacher at School No. 1, which is where we have our language classes, and also where we observed local lessons and will be practicing teaching our own lessons. She is a very proper girl who has studied English grammar and vocabulary to a T. She has the "golden hands" when it comes to making tea, cakes, or anything in the kitchen. She spends her free time at home with her mother, or if her mother is at work, reading and preparing her lessons. She likes to call her pupil's parents and report when they have performed unsatisfactorily in class. She also loves English proverbs and idioms, and has proven that she knows more than I do. We converse a lot about language, literature, and day-to-day culture.
Zulfiya, the younger sister, is a university student, and also tutors on the side. She is a social, loud, modern girl who won't tolerate a man that confines her. She has a Facebook, whereas Rasmiya does not trust nor like the internet.
Azade is my third sister, although technically she is a cousin. She is 19 and also goes to college. She is quiet and extremely sweet. She knows little English, and helps me study my Azerbaijani.
Our mother is everything you'd want in a mother. She's an amazing cook (including baking), and spends time with her girls, watching television, and talking on the phone. Our father is a hard worker, 7 days a week, and I am slowly getting closer to him as I learn more Azerbaijani. Oh yes, we also have a Nana, who is really friendly and lively. She always greets me enthusiastically and I can practice my simple Azerbaijani phrases.

There are six of us in our cluster. We go to language class together and share the same LCF (Language and Culture Facilitator), Rashad. Rashad is the most awesome thing in Azerbaijan. He is energetic and hilarious. We have way too much fun in our language classes, as all of us are 21, 22, or 25 (Rashad). My cluster mates are Josh, Sam, Mary Ellen, Fiona, and Erik. I will get a picture of them and post it shortly.
So far we have learned about different methods of teaching, the education system in Azerbaijan (hierarchical like ours, however, the money flows from the bottom up, rather than the top down; students pay their teachers, etc. Also it is common for teachers to pay to get their jobs, about 3-4,000, but if you an especially talented teacher they will hire you for free), and planning lessons. Today and yesterday, instead of techinical training we observed English lessons to witness firsthand the Azerbaijani classroom. Only one out of the six teachers was close to what we are used to in the US. The others used solely the methods of rote memorization or telling the answers to the students. Here in Azerbaijan, if you really want to learn English, your family sends you to tutoring (which is done on the side by most teachers and some college students), usually at a price (Zulfiya says she charges more for parents who make a good salary, and less for those who don't).  Now you are beginning to see how in demand my fellow volunteers and I are here. On my first day in the main school building, one of the teachers pinned me down and asked me to live with her because her daughter is at a university and wants to improve her speaking.  I ended up giving her my phone number since I am already situated in a home. I will be talking with her daughter, Saida, shortly. I don't mind because, well, that is what I am here to do, essentially.
On a simpler note, the food here is very num-nummy.  I have bread with every meal, which to me feels quite indulgent, but probably doesn't have the same health impact as it would in the States, as the bread here is fresh, handmade, and doesn't contain 873566 ingredients with 25 letters each, and also some high frutose corn syrup just for the hell of it. The meals I eat feel so homey: the vegetables are soft, the butter is plentiful, and of course it is all made from scratch. My family understands that I am a vegetarian, and my mother knows plenty of veggie-only meals. I did, however tell them that I would eat a little meat if they served it to me, so thus far I have had a soup with a bit of ground beef, and a specialty chicken, lavengi, which is stuffed with a blend of walnuts, dried plums, and herbs, and roasted. The filling was fantastic, but I still have no appetite for chicken, and was only able to eat some dark meat (mixed with a piece of bread and stuffing). My stomach is handling everything swimmingly. I think I have the probiotics I took for a month before departure to thank.

A month before departure, I had no idea my days would be like this. I didn't know exactly what to expect. But my cozy situation is definitely the best transition to Peace Corps Azerbaijan I could ask for!