A couple weeks ago, I asked my host father to accompany me to the local barber. Being the incredibly kind-hearted man he is, he agreed and we set off. The barber shop he chose was about 5 minutes from our home. As we walked, I did my best to explain that I wanted both a cut and shave. Every Peace Corps Volunteer that I had spoken with suggested the shave... they focused their descriptions on the inexpensive nature and the all together wonderfully refreshing feeling you (the shave-ee) would receive. He did his best to deter my interest, but alas he was unsuccessful.
Thus, we arrived and after a short wait I was escorted to the chair. I handed the barber a page taken from a Peace Corps provided Newsweek and asked that my hair be cut exactly like the man pictured. He obliged and set off to do just that. The haircut went well, he was very careful to go over every hair, at least three times. He used only scissors and sculpted my hair into what some might call a masterpiece... a slightly diagonal masterpiece, but you know, bangs are hard to get right, ha ha. Nevertheless, the hair really didn't look that bad.
Then he checks to be sure that I want a shave, which at this point I still do... (foreshadowing). So he heats a towel, throws it across my face and massages the heck out of my checks, chin, and neck... the man might have been a chef, as only the truly talented could tenderize meat to such an extent. He then pulls off the towel and applies a warm lather to all areas that are to be shaved. I, by the way, kept my stache and soul patch. My host father was a big fan. I did it as an act of solidarity with my Azerbaijani brothers. Problem is my American wife, was not/is not/will never be a fan (foreshadowing). Nevertheless, I even asked my teacher how to say, "Please don't shave my mustache and soul patch." Don't remember it now but at the time it came in handy. So, he applies the lather to my face, grabs a disposable bic razor and goes to town. He shaves both with and against the grain, displaying a true mastery 0f 'the shave'. So he saves my stache and s-patch, and 'finishes' what I found to be an excellent shave.
Then he asks me a question. I take it to be, "Do you think it looks good." So I respond, "Bali, cox yaxsi dur" or "Yes, very good." Thinking I was done with the shave, I started to get up. Oh no, I was very very wrong. Apparently, he asked it I wanted him to go over my face a second, and yes third time, to make sure there were no rough patches. So he does, this time without cream, all the while stretching the heck out of my face, 'feeling' for stray patches of hair. By the time he finishes the second go-round, I am bleeding profusely from my neck, cheeks and maybe even my nostrals, who knows, there was a lot of blood. He remedies this by pressing a cold damp cloth to my neck. Once he stops the bleeding, he goes around one last time, just to be sure. Finally, he wipes off the last bits of blood (and possibly tears) then sprays some wonderfully 'Old Spice-esk' musk onto my brutally ravished face. The razor burn was bad, but the musk added insult to injury. I liken it to pouring salt water mixed with alcohol over a deep abrasion. You know, it felt great. So he finishes this, and then for whatever reason, goes to town sculpting my mustache...
By the time he finished, I looked like something right out "Germans who fought in the Second World War and really like children" magazine. Emma was super pleased, ha ha ha ha ha.
I honestly enjoyed the experience, minus the pain. The barber was exceptionally nice, he just has very firm hands... and a propensity to go over the same thing many, many times. He even took a picture of us with camera phone. I will definitely go to him again but next time I will only ask for the first shave. I also won't have him sculpt my mustache (which by the way I shaved off about a week later... review the text surrounding my second foreshadowing point for further insight into this decision).
Life is good, my face, two weeks in, is pretty close to 100% and I am happy to have the opportunity to share this bit of my life in Azerbaijan, with you.
Hope all is well.
Mathias
Monday, October 20, 2008
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Cavid's Party
Warning: The following contains a lengthy and detail narrative of a party. It was written over the course of three days and the tense is not consistent. Read at your own risk!
Our host brother is back from the army and there is great celebration. It is my understanding that all Azerbaijani men when they graduate from high school must do a stint in the army. This lasts usually a year and six months. According to our LCF Aytac, there is always a party to celebrate the return of the sons from the army. Our family is throwing theirs tomorrow.
Things had started into motion a few days ago. I noticed a giant bowl of apples and pears in the larder under the stairs. As apples keep well, I wondered if this might be our winter’s supply. Later that day, four men struggled through the yard with a giant bag of potatoes (possibly also for winter?) Then Aytac mentioned the possibility of a party.
It made the bowl full of a dozen dead chickens in the hallway sort of make sense. I went to school and learned how to say: Bizim evda coxlu olu toyugmuz var! We have a lot of dead chickens in our house!
As the afternoon has progressed, the preparations have sped up. There are several relatives here-a few of my host mom’s sisters, two of our host fathers brothers, and an assortment of extra 20-something men and children. I looked out my window to see the guys hoisting a long table to the second floor balcony and came out to see what was going on. All of the “youth” had a single thumbprint of blood upon their forehead. I peered into the backyard and couldn’t quite figure out what I was seeing so I pointed and said “Olar?” (May I?). As our Ata (host father) took me into the back of the garden we walked past the severed head and legs of a brown goat. Suspended from a hook in a tree was the rest of the goat. My host father’s cousin was working on removing the insides. I was pleased that they let me stay and watch, and it was really interesting. First the digestive tract is removed and set aside, followed by the lungs and heart. He cut and pulled with such skill, it seemed that all creatures are meant to come apart as easily as a jigsaw puzzle. Then the butcher’s wife came with a large bowl and began rinsing the innards. It seemed like she was splitting and cleaning out the intestinal casing, but I can’t be sure, having never seen this done before. I can’t say that the process was as “sanitary” as the PC medical officers would suggest, but I can imagine that this is how its done all over the country (in fact, just this morning on the way to school, I was able to witness an earlier step to the process: a man hanging a beheaded but still furry sheep from a hook). Eventually I wandered towards the kitchen where I found the table and chairs removed and large blanket spread on the floor. On the blanket sat on of our host aunts, cutting apart mounds of fresh herbs. On the other end of the kitchen lay piles and piles of china and cups. I asked Ana (host mom) if I could help and for the first time since we arrived she said yes. She sat me on the floor and handed me a knife and bowl, proceeding to show me how to cut the root from the bunch of cilantro and discard any yellow leaves. There was also dill, scallions, anise (I think?) and something that looked like giant dill. When I finished with my pile I returned to the back end of the yard, where the goat was being thoroughly butchered and distributed equally into plastic bags which my host parents explained would go to all of the different relatives (goody bags of liver?!). Ana is currently boiling the largest carrots I have ever seen in my life-as long as my forearm and almost as thick. The larder under the stairs is stocked with apples, pears, grapes, pomegranates, tomatoes, cucumbers, potatoes, the dead chickens, soda (yes! Soda!), juice and vodka.
I’m told the party will be tomorrow evening and I can’t wait.
Party preparations continued the next day. I went to school and when I got back the dining room was completely set up. Tables were arranged in two long rows with chairs (and the couch and armchairs) along them. There were about 28 place settings. At increments, bowls of fruit, plates of pickled vegetables and cold roast chicken. To drink, (downstairs, at the “women party”) sparkling pear juice, nectarine juice, and fanta. Before the guests arrived I was invited upstairs to see the “man party” set up. As the good dining room chairs were all occupied downstairs, the two long tables of the man party were flanked with benches (boards on cinderblocks, with carpets on top). The upstairs is not yet finished, which paired with the benches gives an appropriately rustic feel. Men also had rows of place settings and fruit, fanta and juice, but with the addition of bottles of vodka and a shot glass at each place. A large blanket/carpet was spread upon the stairs to accommodate the numerous pairs of shoes that would soon inundate the doorway.
Outside the “men” were grilling the kabobs (actually, one uncle was grilling kabobs while the rest stood around and watched). The women who arrived early were working together to assemble plates of salad (in Azerbaijan, salad equals a plate of sliced tomatoes, herbs, and cucumbers). About three o’clock, relatives began to arrive. I was confused about the official start time. I dressed up and hung around with my host sister Arzu and her friend who were putting on make up. They kept saying “Do you want to eat?” Eventually I said sure and was ushered into the dining room to find one table already full of various aunts and great aunts and friends and children eating and array of food. I sat and was served:
• Potato salad with mayo and peas
• Cold roast chicken
• Another mayo based salad with potato, shredded carrots and pecans
• A sort of lamb/goat stew.
• Goat kabobs (delicious, by the way)
• Salad (cucumber, tomato, herbs)
• Pickles (cucumber, carrots, cabbage, green tomatoes)
• Bread (LOTS of bread)
And I drank pear soda, which was incredibly sweet, after which I switched to fanta.
The women talked, and ate, ate and talked. The very very nice teacher of Russian from mektab iki (School number 2) explained over and over who I was, that I was from America, no I didn’t speak Russian OR Azeri. Also, a thousand brownie points to Sabina, my six year old host cousin, who served me food when I was afraid to get it myself, and who would take my hand reassuringly and usher me wherever I should go. In a lot of ways, younger children are the best-they automatically accept you, even if you can’t talk and care for you without pitying you. As soon as our table was just about finished eating, another wave of women appeared and settled on the second table and started eating. At this point I decided to take a breather and escaped to our room, where I found Mathias already hiding. We watched an episode of Family Guy on our computer and then went back out. At this point table #2 was making their exit while table #1 (more family than friends) were going for another round, particularly more kabobs and for the fruit. Each fruit bowl had a paring knife in it, which everyone used to cut open their apples, pears and nar (pomegranates). Someone cut a nar for me and I think I ate the whole thing. I love nar. There were also grapes and little bowls of candy. That was about it for the food. There was more talking, asking if I had children, more explaining who I was…Upstairs it began to get louder and louder. Apparently the man party had two things which we did not-music and vodka-and they had begun dancing. I could here distinctly the dulcet tones of uncensored American hip hop floating down the stairwell. As the man party ampted up, the woman party continued to wane. When most of the guests had left, my host sister put on a soap opera and we all drank tea and watched or talked. Eventually I went to bed.
I asked Mathias for the man-party perspective. Basically it had broken into two groups. The older men, our host father and uncles, had gone outside to smoke and chat. What I heard upstairs were the “youth” (teenagers and 20’s) drinking and dancing. In Azerbaijan, young men may drink, but they are not supposed to do so directly in front of their parents.
So that was Cavid’s party!
Our host brother is back from the army and there is great celebration. It is my understanding that all Azerbaijani men when they graduate from high school must do a stint in the army. This lasts usually a year and six months. According to our LCF Aytac, there is always a party to celebrate the return of the sons from the army. Our family is throwing theirs tomorrow.
Things had started into motion a few days ago. I noticed a giant bowl of apples and pears in the larder under the stairs. As apples keep well, I wondered if this might be our winter’s supply. Later that day, four men struggled through the yard with a giant bag of potatoes (possibly also for winter?) Then Aytac mentioned the possibility of a party.
It made the bowl full of a dozen dead chickens in the hallway sort of make sense. I went to school and learned how to say: Bizim evda coxlu olu toyugmuz var! We have a lot of dead chickens in our house!
As the afternoon has progressed, the preparations have sped up. There are several relatives here-a few of my host mom’s sisters, two of our host fathers brothers, and an assortment of extra 20-something men and children. I looked out my window to see the guys hoisting a long table to the second floor balcony and came out to see what was going on. All of the “youth” had a single thumbprint of blood upon their forehead. I peered into the backyard and couldn’t quite figure out what I was seeing so I pointed and said “Olar?” (May I?). As our Ata (host father) took me into the back of the garden we walked past the severed head and legs of a brown goat. Suspended from a hook in a tree was the rest of the goat. My host father’s cousin was working on removing the insides. I was pleased that they let me stay and watch, and it was really interesting. First the digestive tract is removed and set aside, followed by the lungs and heart. He cut and pulled with such skill, it seemed that all creatures are meant to come apart as easily as a jigsaw puzzle. Then the butcher’s wife came with a large bowl and began rinsing the innards. It seemed like she was splitting and cleaning out the intestinal casing, but I can’t be sure, having never seen this done before. I can’t say that the process was as “sanitary” as the PC medical officers would suggest, but I can imagine that this is how its done all over the country (in fact, just this morning on the way to school, I was able to witness an earlier step to the process: a man hanging a beheaded but still furry sheep from a hook). Eventually I wandered towards the kitchen where I found the table and chairs removed and large blanket spread on the floor. On the blanket sat on of our host aunts, cutting apart mounds of fresh herbs. On the other end of the kitchen lay piles and piles of china and cups. I asked Ana (host mom) if I could help and for the first time since we arrived she said yes. She sat me on the floor and handed me a knife and bowl, proceeding to show me how to cut the root from the bunch of cilantro and discard any yellow leaves. There was also dill, scallions, anise (I think?) and something that looked like giant dill. When I finished with my pile I returned to the back end of the yard, where the goat was being thoroughly butchered and distributed equally into plastic bags which my host parents explained would go to all of the different relatives (goody bags of liver?!). Ana is currently boiling the largest carrots I have ever seen in my life-as long as my forearm and almost as thick. The larder under the stairs is stocked with apples, pears, grapes, pomegranates, tomatoes, cucumbers, potatoes, the dead chickens, soda (yes! Soda!), juice and vodka.
I’m told the party will be tomorrow evening and I can’t wait.
Party preparations continued the next day. I went to school and when I got back the dining room was completely set up. Tables were arranged in two long rows with chairs (and the couch and armchairs) along them. There were about 28 place settings. At increments, bowls of fruit, plates of pickled vegetables and cold roast chicken. To drink, (downstairs, at the “women party”) sparkling pear juice, nectarine juice, and fanta. Before the guests arrived I was invited upstairs to see the “man party” set up. As the good dining room chairs were all occupied downstairs, the two long tables of the man party were flanked with benches (boards on cinderblocks, with carpets on top). The upstairs is not yet finished, which paired with the benches gives an appropriately rustic feel. Men also had rows of place settings and fruit, fanta and juice, but with the addition of bottles of vodka and a shot glass at each place. A large blanket/carpet was spread upon the stairs to accommodate the numerous pairs of shoes that would soon inundate the doorway.
Outside the “men” were grilling the kabobs (actually, one uncle was grilling kabobs while the rest stood around and watched). The women who arrived early were working together to assemble plates of salad (in Azerbaijan, salad equals a plate of sliced tomatoes, herbs, and cucumbers). About three o’clock, relatives began to arrive. I was confused about the official start time. I dressed up and hung around with my host sister Arzu and her friend who were putting on make up. They kept saying “Do you want to eat?” Eventually I said sure and was ushered into the dining room to find one table already full of various aunts and great aunts and friends and children eating and array of food. I sat and was served:
• Potato salad with mayo and peas
• Cold roast chicken
• Another mayo based salad with potato, shredded carrots and pecans
• A sort of lamb/goat stew.
• Goat kabobs (delicious, by the way)
• Salad (cucumber, tomato, herbs)
• Pickles (cucumber, carrots, cabbage, green tomatoes)
• Bread (LOTS of bread)
And I drank pear soda, which was incredibly sweet, after which I switched to fanta.
The women talked, and ate, ate and talked. The very very nice teacher of Russian from mektab iki (School number 2) explained over and over who I was, that I was from America, no I didn’t speak Russian OR Azeri. Also, a thousand brownie points to Sabina, my six year old host cousin, who served me food when I was afraid to get it myself, and who would take my hand reassuringly and usher me wherever I should go. In a lot of ways, younger children are the best-they automatically accept you, even if you can’t talk and care for you without pitying you. As soon as our table was just about finished eating, another wave of women appeared and settled on the second table and started eating. At this point I decided to take a breather and escaped to our room, where I found Mathias already hiding. We watched an episode of Family Guy on our computer and then went back out. At this point table #2 was making their exit while table #1 (more family than friends) were going for another round, particularly more kabobs and for the fruit. Each fruit bowl had a paring knife in it, which everyone used to cut open their apples, pears and nar (pomegranates). Someone cut a nar for me and I think I ate the whole thing. I love nar. There were also grapes and little bowls of candy. That was about it for the food. There was more talking, asking if I had children, more explaining who I was…Upstairs it began to get louder and louder. Apparently the man party had two things which we did not-music and vodka-and they had begun dancing. I could here distinctly the dulcet tones of uncensored American hip hop floating down the stairwell. As the man party ampted up, the woman party continued to wane. When most of the guests had left, my host sister put on a soap opera and we all drank tea and watched or talked. Eventually I went to bed.
I asked Mathias for the man-party perspective. Basically it had broken into two groups. The older men, our host father and uncles, had gone outside to smoke and chat. What I heard upstairs were the “youth” (teenagers and 20’s) drinking and dancing. In Azerbaijan, young men may drink, but they are not supposed to do so directly in front of their parents.
So that was Cavid’s party!
Sunday, October 5, 2008
Two days in a row... CRAZY!
As I have a bit of time, here is a story...
I was at school last week, let's say it was Wednesday. So on Wednesday, during a break from our morning language class I ask two friends to escort me to the bathroom. The bathroom, which is a white cinder block building behind school, has no markings signifying which side is male/female. There are two sides and I am pretty sure which is which, but as a precaution I asked Jon and Jeremy to stand guard while I used the facilities.
Not to be gross but I had a bit of a stomach bug so I knew I needed some time. So, they take their positions by the door and I go inside. The stalls are separated by short, probably knee high walls and contain a small trough that you... yeah. So I am doing what I went there to do when I hear...
"Saxla (stop) Saxla (stop)."
It is obvious to me that Jon and Jeremy are trying to tell someone that the bathroom is in use. However, instead of that person stopping, it seems that they are determined to make it inside. I know this because of Jeremy's giggling and Jon's louder commands of stop stop.
Then I hear the one word that was to give it all away.
"Ogul (boy) Ogul (boy)"
I now know that I am in the girls bathroom, and that apparently a girl is on her way. I stand up and just as I am buttoning my pants a little 5 year old Azeri school girls with big white bows in her hair comes stoically marching in. I rush out to find Jon and Jeremy laughing hysterically.
Apparently, Jon had put out his arm to stop her but she faked left, went right and bulldozed through his road block.
I had been able to get everything taken care of before I rushed to get out, but the shock of the little girl rushing the bathroom was pretty intense, ha ha ha.
The moral of this story is... If there are two unmarked sides to a bathroom complex, and you are male, don't choose the one that looks better. Choose the one that was obviously used by men for the last 50 years, even if the smell might knock you out.
This story is dedicated to my body guards, Jon and Jeremy, and to the incredible agile and all together fantastic 5 year old Azeri girl that out foxed three Peace Corps Trainees.
I was at school last week, let's say it was Wednesday. So on Wednesday, during a break from our morning language class I ask two friends to escort me to the bathroom. The bathroom, which is a white cinder block building behind school, has no markings signifying which side is male/female. There are two sides and I am pretty sure which is which, but as a precaution I asked Jon and Jeremy to stand guard while I used the facilities.
Not to be gross but I had a bit of a stomach bug so I knew I needed some time. So, they take their positions by the door and I go inside. The stalls are separated by short, probably knee high walls and contain a small trough that you... yeah. So I am doing what I went there to do when I hear...
"Saxla (stop) Saxla (stop)."
It is obvious to me that Jon and Jeremy are trying to tell someone that the bathroom is in use. However, instead of that person stopping, it seems that they are determined to make it inside. I know this because of Jeremy's giggling and Jon's louder commands of stop stop.
Then I hear the one word that was to give it all away.
"Ogul (boy) Ogul (boy)"
I now know that I am in the girls bathroom, and that apparently a girl is on her way. I stand up and just as I am buttoning my pants a little 5 year old Azeri school girls with big white bows in her hair comes stoically marching in. I rush out to find Jon and Jeremy laughing hysterically.
Apparently, Jon had put out his arm to stop her but she faked left, went right and bulldozed through his road block.
I had been able to get everything taken care of before I rushed to get out, but the shock of the little girl rushing the bathroom was pretty intense, ha ha ha.
The moral of this story is... If there are two unmarked sides to a bathroom complex, and you are male, don't choose the one that looks better. Choose the one that was obviously used by men for the last 50 years, even if the smell might knock you out.
This story is dedicated to my body guards, Jon and Jeremy, and to the incredible agile and all together fantastic 5 year old Azeri girl that out foxed three Peace Corps Trainees.
Saturday, October 4, 2008
1 1/2 weeks in Azerbaijan
For those of you who have dutifully checked our blog for updates, my apologies. I was very wrong in assuming that we would have semi-regular Internet access, ha ha ha.
So Emma and I were in Philly from the 20th-22nd. We stayed at the University City Sheraton which is basically on the campus of U Penn. We had a day and a half of pre-departure prep as well as the opportunity to visit with Emma's Munch side of the family. Thanks to Aunt Phe for making Beef Brisket! It was spectacular!
So Monday the 22nd we took a bus from Philly to JFK (nice connection to the Peace Corps) and caught an 8 hour flight to Frankfurt. In Frankfurt we took a connection to Baku, subsequently arriving in Azerbaijan sometime after 9pm on the 23rd.
The first few days were spent at a European style hotel called Aquapark. It is a resort/hotel/sports complex that is frequented during the summer and evidently holds conferences during the fall/winter. Emma and I had our own room which was very nice. Each day we would sit through a variety of sessions on Peace Corps Policy and Azerbaijani Language. The policy sessions were alright and the language classes were awesome. It made moving to our host family pretty easy. Having experienced a similar host family meeting, I can say without a doubt that the Peace Corps knows what they are doing. Albeit when we finally left the hotel to meet our host families, Emma and I were dropped off about 3 block away from our actual host home. Our AWESOME host father, and I mean that, met us with a taxi and escorted us to the house. As for our getting off the bus to met our host father I would like to relay a special moment ..
I was in charge of taking all of the bags off the bus, Emma was not allowed to do so, our bus driver was pretty adamant about this. So as I set down the last bag I accidentally stepped on something. The next line is absolutely true.
Mathias, returning to the bus... "Well good news is I have all the bags off the bus, bad news is I am pretty sure I just stepped on a goats ear."
So yeah, they dropped us off at a butcher shop. Nothing too out of the ordinary minus the small bits of animal that may or may not have been tossed out from the butchers shop... call it a hunch.
So the first meeting with our host family went very well. We have a host father and mother, two host brothers and one host sister. The boys are 20 and 16 while the sister is 21. The entire family is exceptionally kind. Our host father, Aydin, has been absolutely wonderful. His patience and kindness are pretty unbelievable. When we eat he goes through all of the food, naming each item and repeating them numerous times until we sort of pronounce them correctly. We was an auto mechanic but has retired. Our host mother is a seamstress, her shop our kitchen. Our host sister is a beautician, her shop our foyer. The family seems to be very close and we have been lucky enough to meet most if not all of the aunts and uncles.
Emma and I have our own room. We have two twin beds pushed together to make a king, which is bigger than what we had in Belleville. We have a wardrobe,a folding table/desk, two chairs and a coat rack, that our host mother beat into the wall soon after our arrival, ha ha.
I walk about 20 minutes to school and Emma walks/takes the bus about 20 as well. When we get to the town's (Saray) main street, Emma goes left and I go right. The time to and from school is really nice. It is really one of the only times that I get to be alone. Alone time is very nice, very nice, ha ha. Really it is just a great time for me to collect my thoughts and listen to music.
We both have Azerbaijani language class from 9am-1pm. Then we have an hour break and usually the afternoons are spent traveling to and from meetings with our sector groups. I am Teaching English as a Foreign Language and Emma is in Youth Development. That means we rarely spend "class time" together. It also means that Emma's language level is going to have to be much higher than mine. This is because she will be out in the community without an Azerbaijani English teacher backing her up. As of right now she seems to be doing great. Our host family was initially convinced that she knew tons of Azerbaijani thus pulling her into the room whenever they had to ask me questions... I loved that, yeah. Ha ha ha. Now they feel alright talking to me without Emma so that is good. Ha ha.
Also, I have had a bit of stomach sickness but that is to be expected. Other than that (and that is really nothing) everything has been great. Hope everyone is great!
Love
Mathias
PS.
I can text to America but only to TMobile or ATT phones, so if you have either service please send me an email me and I will send you the number.
So Emma and I were in Philly from the 20th-22nd. We stayed at the University City Sheraton which is basically on the campus of U Penn. We had a day and a half of pre-departure prep as well as the opportunity to visit with Emma's Munch side of the family. Thanks to Aunt Phe for making Beef Brisket! It was spectacular!
So Monday the 22nd we took a bus from Philly to JFK (nice connection to the Peace Corps) and caught an 8 hour flight to Frankfurt. In Frankfurt we took a connection to Baku, subsequently arriving in Azerbaijan sometime after 9pm on the 23rd.
The first few days were spent at a European style hotel called Aquapark. It is a resort/hotel/sports complex that is frequented during the summer and evidently holds conferences during the fall/winter. Emma and I had our own room which was very nice. Each day we would sit through a variety of sessions on Peace Corps Policy and Azerbaijani Language. The policy sessions were alright and the language classes were awesome. It made moving to our host family pretty easy. Having experienced a similar host family meeting, I can say without a doubt that the Peace Corps knows what they are doing. Albeit when we finally left the hotel to meet our host families, Emma and I were dropped off about 3 block away from our actual host home. Our AWESOME host father, and I mean that, met us with a taxi and escorted us to the house. As for our getting off the bus to met our host father I would like to relay a special moment ..
I was in charge of taking all of the bags off the bus, Emma was not allowed to do so, our bus driver was pretty adamant about this. So as I set down the last bag I accidentally stepped on something. The next line is absolutely true.
Mathias, returning to the bus... "Well good news is I have all the bags off the bus, bad news is I am pretty sure I just stepped on a goats ear."
So yeah, they dropped us off at a butcher shop. Nothing too out of the ordinary minus the small bits of animal that may or may not have been tossed out from the butchers shop... call it a hunch.
So the first meeting with our host family went very well. We have a host father and mother, two host brothers and one host sister. The boys are 20 and 16 while the sister is 21. The entire family is exceptionally kind. Our host father, Aydin, has been absolutely wonderful. His patience and kindness are pretty unbelievable. When we eat he goes through all of the food, naming each item and repeating them numerous times until we sort of pronounce them correctly. We was an auto mechanic but has retired. Our host mother is a seamstress, her shop our kitchen. Our host sister is a beautician, her shop our foyer. The family seems to be very close and we have been lucky enough to meet most if not all of the aunts and uncles.
Emma and I have our own room. We have two twin beds pushed together to make a king, which is bigger than what we had in Belleville. We have a wardrobe,a folding table/desk, two chairs and a coat rack, that our host mother beat into the wall soon after our arrival, ha ha.
I walk about 20 minutes to school and Emma walks/takes the bus about 20 as well. When we get to the town's (Saray) main street, Emma goes left and I go right. The time to and from school is really nice. It is really one of the only times that I get to be alone. Alone time is very nice, very nice, ha ha. Really it is just a great time for me to collect my thoughts and listen to music.
We both have Azerbaijani language class from 9am-1pm. Then we have an hour break and usually the afternoons are spent traveling to and from meetings with our sector groups. I am Teaching English as a Foreign Language and Emma is in Youth Development. That means we rarely spend "class time" together. It also means that Emma's language level is going to have to be much higher than mine. This is because she will be out in the community without an Azerbaijani English teacher backing her up. As of right now she seems to be doing great. Our host family was initially convinced that she knew tons of Azerbaijani thus pulling her into the room whenever they had to ask me questions... I loved that, yeah. Ha ha ha. Now they feel alright talking to me without Emma so that is good. Ha ha.
Also, I have had a bit of stomach sickness but that is to be expected. Other than that (and that is really nothing) everything has been great. Hope everyone is great!
Love
Mathias
PS.
I can text to America but only to TMobile or ATT phones, so if you have either service please send me an email me and I will send you the number.
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Training Days or If You're Going to Spew, Spew into This!
Our pre-service training has already come to a close and I can hardly believe it. Things are really moving now!
We had a wonderful week in Atlanta with my family which included a tour of UGA, playing with puppies, and good old fashioned sitting around. I had not felt nervous at all until early Saturday morning when I woke up with quite a stomach-ach. Suddenly the reality of leaving and saying goodbye to my family had arrived. In the midst of this gastronomical stress, the face of Garth appeared before my eyes, unfolding a tiny paper cup. “If you’re going to spew, spew into this!” Well, that made me feel instantly better and became my mantra for the rest of the day! We arrived at the airport and went up the counter to check our bags. There is a limit of 50lbs per bag. One by one they went on the scale. 56lbs…52lbs…52lbs..52lbs…apparently our bathroom scale is off! The man at the counter kindly informed us there would be a $90 fee per bag. Immediately we pulled everything into the corner and began the purge. Pen lights? Jettisoned. Knitting manual? Out! Before long we reached perfection. All four bags, 50lbs exactly. And my lucky mom got to leave with 12 lbs of gifts and prizes!
Training was great and passed by quickly. I’ve mentioned to many of you that I really miss school and saw this as an opportunity to be in a learning environment again. Maybe I’m a dork, but just sitting with a pad of paper and taking notes was really fun. On top of that, everyone we have met has been amazing. We are a group of 61, the largest AZ group yet (I think!). There are three other married couples in our group, two of whom are retirees. Our hotel is also great. I don’t stay in hotels often so it’s all very exciting (Look! Tiny soap!)
Tonight we got to have dinner with my aunt and uncle and cousins which was really fun. My aunt made her world-famous brisket, a particular favorite of Mathias’s so we were well fed for our “last supper”! We were also fortunate enough yesterday to enjoy lunch with my Uncle at a great fifties-style diner.
Tomorrow we hop on a bus to New York, hang out in the airport most of the day and depart tomorrow night. We will have a stopover in Frankfurt and then on to Baku. I’m looking forward to checking out all the German shoes. Once we arrive in country, we won’t be in contact for about a week and half-which almost guarantees an interesting blog post next time. Until then I would just like to reiterate how grateful we are for you, our friends and family. I am not afraid of leaving, but I do know there will be moments that I will miss you terribly. Thank you to everyone who helped us move, made us meals, drove us around, simply were there to talk, and made us feel so loved and encouraged. We appreciate you so much!
We had a wonderful week in Atlanta with my family which included a tour of UGA, playing with puppies, and good old fashioned sitting around. I had not felt nervous at all until early Saturday morning when I woke up with quite a stomach-ach. Suddenly the reality of leaving and saying goodbye to my family had arrived. In the midst of this gastronomical stress, the face of Garth appeared before my eyes, unfolding a tiny paper cup. “If you’re going to spew, spew into this!” Well, that made me feel instantly better and became my mantra for the rest of the day! We arrived at the airport and went up the counter to check our bags. There is a limit of 50lbs per bag. One by one they went on the scale. 56lbs…52lbs…52lbs..52lbs…apparently our bathroom scale is off! The man at the counter kindly informed us there would be a $90 fee per bag. Immediately we pulled everything into the corner and began the purge. Pen lights? Jettisoned. Knitting manual? Out! Before long we reached perfection. All four bags, 50lbs exactly. And my lucky mom got to leave with 12 lbs of gifts and prizes!
Training was great and passed by quickly. I’ve mentioned to many of you that I really miss school and saw this as an opportunity to be in a learning environment again. Maybe I’m a dork, but just sitting with a pad of paper and taking notes was really fun. On top of that, everyone we have met has been amazing. We are a group of 61, the largest AZ group yet (I think!). There are three other married couples in our group, two of whom are retirees. Our hotel is also great. I don’t stay in hotels often so it’s all very exciting (Look! Tiny soap!)
Tonight we got to have dinner with my aunt and uncle and cousins which was really fun. My aunt made her world-famous brisket, a particular favorite of Mathias’s so we were well fed for our “last supper”! We were also fortunate enough yesterday to enjoy lunch with my Uncle at a great fifties-style diner.
Tomorrow we hop on a bus to New York, hang out in the airport most of the day and depart tomorrow night. We will have a stopover in Frankfurt and then on to Baku. I’m looking forward to checking out all the German shoes. Once we arrive in country, we won’t be in contact for about a week and half-which almost guarantees an interesting blog post next time. Until then I would just like to reiterate how grateful we are for you, our friends and family. I am not afraid of leaving, but I do know there will be moments that I will miss you terribly. Thank you to everyone who helped us move, made us meals, drove us around, simply were there to talk, and made us feel so loved and encouraged. We appreciate you so much!
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Good-bye and Thank You
A brief summery of the past two weeks…
Emma and I finished work on Friday Sept 5th. As sad as it was to leave, it was great to finally be done with everything. On the 6th, we went to Camp Butterfly and assisted my mom by acting as sailing supervisors. She lead a morning session for girls ages 8-14 and we were the adult support. From the 7th-11th, we hung out with friends, said too many good-byes, moved a ton of stuff to my parent’s garage and packed everything else into a 17ft. Uhaul. On the 12th, we said our final good-byes and moved the rest of our stuff to Emma’s parent’s house. The 10 ½ hour drive from Belleville to Atlanta was a great deal nicer than I thought it would be. Then again, I had my iPod/iHome and Emma, her cell phone, so all in all we were pretty set. On the 13th, a bunch of Emma’s friends came over and helped unload the Uhaul. Enough with the dates and times, here’s the important stuff...
Packing the house was pretty rough. Emma did most (more like all) of the “house,” while I worked on the garage and appliances. Emma, because she is awesome, started weeks in advance, saving us from a great deal of stress and last minute worrying. I, however, decided to wait until the week of our move to start getting things together. Thankfully Josh, Grenville, Justin and my folks were kind enough to take off “real” work to share in the “fun” work. Over the course of 4 days, we packed/moved 50+ years worth of tools, appliances, furniture and memories…
For those of you who don’t know, our house actually belonged to my Grandpa and Grandma Akins. They were the only family to ever own the home, having done so since the mid-1950s. When my Grandma Akins passed away in February 2007, it went to my Mom and Uncle Tom. When Emma and I married in June 2007, they were kind enough to let us live there. Over the last 25 years it has acted as my daycare, my vacation home, my free 24 hour diner, and finally, my family’s (Emma +Mathias) first home. Thus, furniture and clothes weren’t the only things being packed. I wish I could explain how much the house means to me, but any attempt to do so would just frustrate me, as it would feel incomplete… Thanks again to my family for giving us the opportunity to live there. It was wonderful!
Okay, so the week went well. Josh and Justin let us borrow their trucks, Uhaul gave us our own on Wednesday and by Thursday everything was packed. Thursday night our closest friends, and my family, came over to say good-bye. We ate pizza, threw the football around and had everyone make playlists, so that when we miss: Alex, Ann, Dad, Grenville, Jenna, Jon, Josh, Justin or Lucy… we can listen to a bit of what they like. Albeit they had to chose from my music library, so they all seem to like what I like… what a nice coincidence.
I can honestly say this has been one of the easiest moves I have ever had to make. This is all because of the incredible support our family and friends are giving us… thank you! Good-byes are never fun, but this round was okay.
In conclusion, here is a list of things I am going to miss about St. Louis/Webster/Belleville/Freeburg. Please understand this is terribly incomplete…
Emma and I finished work on Friday Sept 5th. As sad as it was to leave, it was great to finally be done with everything. On the 6th, we went to Camp Butterfly and assisted my mom by acting as sailing supervisors. She lead a morning session for girls ages 8-14 and we were the adult support. From the 7th-11th, we hung out with friends, said too many good-byes, moved a ton of stuff to my parent’s garage and packed everything else into a 17ft. Uhaul. On the 12th, we said our final good-byes and moved the rest of our stuff to Emma’s parent’s house. The 10 ½ hour drive from Belleville to Atlanta was a great deal nicer than I thought it would be. Then again, I had my iPod/iHome and Emma, her cell phone, so all in all we were pretty set. On the 13th, a bunch of Emma’s friends came over and helped unload the Uhaul. Enough with the dates and times, here’s the important stuff...
Packing the house was pretty rough. Emma did most (more like all) of the “house,” while I worked on the garage and appliances. Emma, because she is awesome, started weeks in advance, saving us from a great deal of stress and last minute worrying. I, however, decided to wait until the week of our move to start getting things together. Thankfully Josh, Grenville, Justin and my folks were kind enough to take off “real” work to share in the “fun” work. Over the course of 4 days, we packed/moved 50+ years worth of tools, appliances, furniture and memories…
For those of you who don’t know, our house actually belonged to my Grandpa and Grandma Akins. They were the only family to ever own the home, having done so since the mid-1950s. When my Grandma Akins passed away in February 2007, it went to my Mom and Uncle Tom. When Emma and I married in June 2007, they were kind enough to let us live there. Over the last 25 years it has acted as my daycare, my vacation home, my free 24 hour diner, and finally, my family’s (Emma +Mathias) first home. Thus, furniture and clothes weren’t the only things being packed. I wish I could explain how much the house means to me, but any attempt to do so would just frustrate me, as it would feel incomplete… Thanks again to my family for giving us the opportunity to live there. It was wonderful!
Okay, so the week went well. Josh and Justin let us borrow their trucks, Uhaul gave us our own on Wednesday and by Thursday everything was packed. Thursday night our closest friends, and my family, came over to say good-bye. We ate pizza, threw the football around and had everyone make playlists, so that when we miss: Alex, Ann, Dad, Grenville, Jenna, Jon, Josh, Justin or Lucy… we can listen to a bit of what they like. Albeit they had to chose from my music library, so they all seem to like what I like… what a nice coincidence.
I can honestly say this has been one of the easiest moves I have ever had to make. This is all because of the incredible support our family and friends are giving us… thank you! Good-byes are never fun, but this round was okay.
In conclusion, here is a list of things I am going to miss about St. Louis/Webster/Belleville/Freeburg. Please understand this is terribly incomplete…
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
平和部隊 - Peace Corps info for my Japanese Friends
Kazouku to tomodachi no minasama:
Kongetsu, Emma(妻) to atarashi shigoto wo hajimemasu. St. Louis wo demasu. Peace Corps de hatarakimasu. Peace Corps ha Heiwa Butai (平和部隊). America kara hattentojyo-koku ni, sangyo ya nagyo ya kyoiku nado wo tetsudau tame ni hitobito wo haken suru gurupu desu. 9gatsu no 22nichi kara Asia (アジア) no Azerbaijan (アゼルバイジャン) de kurashimasu. Watashi ha Eigo wo oshemasu. Soshite, Emma ha Azerbaijan (アゼルバイジャン) no kodomotachi no seikatsu wo tetsudaimasu. 2010 no 12gatsu made Azerbaijan (アゼルバイジャン) de taizaishiteimasu.
Minasama genki de ne!
Mathias
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