Transitions

As I sit here on our front porch, elevated above the ground level of our nature-y domain, cool under the trellis covered in lush grape foliage, its sensual fruits one by one darkening purple, I am passing my time in the usual way: staring, letting a few scarce thoughts surface, observing the chickens mostly, and differentiating the sounds of various bugs passing and associating them with an aircraft: the delicate model-airplane whir of a mosquito, the agile fighter jet buzz of a housefly, and the fear-inducing low rumble like a large blimp, the insect from which I don't know, but instinctively run away from. On this particular day, I'm snacking on plums (from the tree) and coffee (from the corner store), in an effort to get my bowels moving with foodstuffs that were available within an aching-person's walking distance. I talked to the doctor this morning and she said I have the symptoms of a parasite rather than food poisoning: fatigue and lightheadedness after eating, stomach cramps and constipation. My mind immediately flies to the most extreme situation: being Medevac'ed to the States where I get to lay in a hospital for a month and see my boyfriend. I am an optimist, after all.

A month or so later, I’ve pooed my way back to health and daydreaming has switched back to Tbilisi in winter. Summer is passing. Signs of autumn fall one by one from branches and vines, and the wind tells so too.

School has started and I had to kiss my sweet lazy summer goodbye. It’s been replaced with my sweet students’ smiles, “Hello teacher.” Seeing their faces light up when I walk into the classroom makes me giddy.

October has waltzed on in along with its evenings that remind me of trick or treating. Pomegranates, persimmons, pears, apples, and grapes are weighing down the branches like it’s the Garden of Eden. I stumbled out into the yard today for my morning pee to see a ram in the barn: a new addition for the upcoming Gurban Holiday, where, guess what, is traditionally killed and parceled out to neighbors as gifts of goodwill. He’s been blaaaaahing constantly all day long.

I guess I should make a shout-out to the fact that I’m one year in. Woo! Not much else to say about that. In December the Az10’s are coming to site, and word is, Zaqatala (my region) is getting two, but in separate villages. The region north of us, Balaken, is getting two as well. I’m excited to be a big sister PCV and help them out. But I’ll have to say goodbye to my Az8 friends, flying away from Azerbaijan for forever. Oh, the bittersweetness of the Peace Corps Circle of Life!

Now the sun is setting and the chickens are slowly gravitating towards their coop. I, however, will remain right where I am, for about a year, until I return to my coop.