A BIG Thanks to Mr. Josh Ehrenreich

As I have written about previously, I went to Turkey this past June with two friends from Peace Corps. I was contacted by my friend, Josh, about a potential yachting adventure last August. This had been his idea for years and years. And while getting ready to come to Azerbaijan, he started making this dream a reality. So for a year and a half he planned. He sent out a mass email to friends and family back home to see who would sign on and ended up with thirteen of his best friends and family and two of us from Peace Corps. The end result consisted of four days in Istanbul, a 15 hour bus ride to Bodrum, eight days on a private yacht, and four more days of bliss before returning back. Now to say, ‘Josh planned everything,’ may not sound that impressive. But let me tell you, it is impressive. He didn’t do this in America. This was done with shoddy internet connections, a bus line that only speaks Turkish, organizing thirteen people from America and three people from Azerbaijan to board the yacht together, and arrange payments on time. To top it off, he made every itty-bitty, teensy-weensy, tiny detail that could be made for himself for Mercedes and me as well. We didn’t do anything to prepare for this trip but PayPal Josh money (and once I did it wrong). Every plane ticket, hotel reservation, bus ticket, and hostel booking was done for us.

Needless to say, some thanks were owed, and we knew just telling him wouldn’t be enough. So through a few friends we got a brilliant idea. See, Josh collects fairy tales and myths from across the world, and a friend had told us about this book that Josh once found in an Ex-pat’s house in Baku. To hear him talk about it, you’d think he had fallen in love. It was this beautiful, big book with gorgeous illustrations which included all Azerbaijani fairy tales translated into English with intricate golden embossed pages and only bound and printed in Turkey.

Armed with the knowledge that this was going to be the best present ever, Mercedes and I collected money from everyone on the yacht trip (fifteen people splitting up a present reduces the hit on one’s wallet). But once we finally got around to trying to get our hands on a copy, we realized we did not exactly know how to go about tracking it down. Mercedes finally got the number of a “guy” in Baku that we could call. We only knew his name, but didn’t know who he was, if he spoke English, if he sold the book or knew someone who knew someone, etc. So after arguing a bit about who would have to navigate the phone call, I gave it a shot. The conversation went something like this:


Emily: “Hello, Is this Arif?”
Man: “Allo? Yes?”
Emily: “Hi. Do you speak English?”
Man: “Inglis? Okay.”
Emily: (In her head… “Obviously not.”) Switching to Azeri..
“Hi, I got your number from a friend who said you know that… you can find a book about…. Well I am looking for this book and it is about…. Somebody else is going to call you.”

Luckily, Mercedes and I did this in the Peace Corps office in Baku with endless sources of the best translators I have had the pleasure of meeting in Azerbaijan. We approached our language coordinator, Afet, explained the whole situation, and she called him back for us. Listening to her end of the conversation, we already knew it wasn’t promising. It turns out, the man we called is actually the illustrator of the fairy tales himself. We figured he was just a bookseller or something. In reality, he was commissioned by the Ministry of Culture and Tourism to illustrate pictures for this book and has his own gallery in Baku. What he relayed to Afet Xanim was that this book was originally sold but now has been taken off the shelves completely. No one is able to buy it and the only way to obtain a copy is to be an International humanitarian aid organization and send a letter on behalf of the agency to the Ministry to request a book. They would review the letter and determine if they would send a copy or two to the organization. Afet Xanim asked maybe four or five times if there was any way at all to buy a copy from the Ministry but the answer remained ‘no.’

Hanging our heads after hearing the news, Mercedes and I had some thinking to do. The good news is that Peace Corps qualifies for the humanitarian organization. The bad news is, it wasn’t guaranteed that Ministry would grant it, and we still had all this money from Josh’s friends. If we didn’t get the book, what were we going to do with the money? Take him out on a night on the town? PayPal seven dollars back to everyone in the States? We decided to see if we could find a replacement on the internet first.

Then the best news in the world came. While sitting at our Close-of-Service conference on the outskirts of Baku the next day, I received a call from Afet saying the illustrator had called her back. He was touched that we were so intent on getting the book for our friend that he made a few calls out to people, got his hands on the one and only copy available for sale, and would be in Baku the next day if we still wanted to buy it from him. And boy, did we. The problem was, we were at this conference and couldn’t leave, and he was only going to be in the city for one day (because he had to return to his Villa). Afet, who like almost all of our Peace Corps staff is amazingly kind, offered to use her entire lunch break the next day to go to the illustrator and buy the book for us. We sent our money along with a Peace Corps driver who brought it to Afet, who gave up her lunch hour to go on this goose chase for us. She even called to confirm with us that is was okay that we didn’t get a receipt because it was sort of an under-the-table kind of deal.

The next day when I saw Afet and received the book, I was in shock. It is, by far, the most beautiful book I have ever seen and touched. The illustrations are breath-taking, gorgeous. It is ineffable. It even included a CD-ROM audio recording. Once we actually had it in our own hands, Mercedes and I kept hinting to Josh about his present. We told him he’d love it and he wasn’t going to believe it, but when we told him he might cry when we gave it to him, he started to get skeptical and couldn’t handle the wait any longer. The look on his face was priceless. He didn’t cry, but I think it was the amount of air he sucked in from shock that prevented him from shedding any tears.

As Mercedes has pointed out, while we gave the best present EVER, we, ourselves, did not actually have to do a lot for it. But the story behind what other people went to at lengths for what is now, literally, a rare copy of a book is moving. The best part of it all is that we knew we couldn’t just say thank you to Josh. The work he did for a year and half to get ready was above and beyond a simple “Thanks.” I feel good knowing that we were able to show the extent of our gratitude. Without him, I wouldn’t know what it truly means to be on a once in a lifetime dream vacation.

No Holds Barred

One week without a fan during the hottest part of the year in August really brings out the bear in me. And I do not mean the cute cuddly kind that we buy for our children. I mean the mama-bear-defending-her-little-cubs-in-an-outrage kind of bear. See, it is not just being uncomfortable at night without a fan and sweaty at all times of the day, but it means that I am not really sleeping well either and the heat makes me not want to eat too much.


What happened to my fan? Well, simply, it broke. There are two kinds of fans you can buy in Azerbaijan. One is a twelve manat model, cheap and plastic. The other is 24 manat model, heavy-duty, industrial sized, and aluminum. Now, some (my sister) would attest to the fact that I can be cheap at times. But in my defense, I am technically “working for free.” Now, we get money to pay rent and have a cell phone and buy food, but money for a fan is not worked into our allowance. And let me tell you all, the allowance is a heavily debated topic every year. But, I’m getting off topic. My point being, I bought the cheaper of the two kinds and it came around to kick me in the butt. So here I am, in 40 degree Celsius weather, drinking at least three liters of water each day to make up for my sweat loss.


And I have been thinking a lot lately about my blog. I write about once a month, less than I wish, but I have come to realize that if I were to have only read my blog and known nothing else about Peace Corps and Azerbaijan, I would think this place and organization is all unicorns and rainbows and fairy dust. There is a lot of dust, but it isn’t sprinkled by fairies. I have noticed that every time I say something even slightly negative about the country, I follow it up with something nice, or an excuse, or anything really to negate that I just had less than great feelings and thoughts about this place I have come to call home. It reminds of a manager giving out constructive criticism at work and following it up with a strength so you walk away with your head still held high.


So I wanted to tell you a few things that really just plain tick me off here. They aren’t the big things. I could go on for hours and hours about the bribery system here, or the school system, or child-rearing, or lack of critical thinking… the list could and does go on. But I’m just going to give you a glimpse into what I have come to realize I just cannot be flexible about. They are things that I thought over time I would get used to, or that at least they wouldn’t bug me as much. But they just do not feel any different than the first day I noticed them.



EATING HABITS
Besides for eating at a table here and (usually) three times a day, sitting down for a meal here is really different. At a normal dinner, lunch or evening meal, talking is discouraged. But unlike America, it is encouraged to eat as comfortably as possible, which means, with your mouth open, slurping, elbows up, usually hands (there are NEVER knives), and soaking up food with bread. If you do talk, it is okay to talk with food in your mouth, smacking as you chew, etc. It is also not rude to reach over people and so there is usually an arm or an elbow across you looking for bread or a glass. Eating from the communal salad bowl with your fingers is par for the course. Again, I feel the need here to follow this up with an excuse or explanation. But I’m not going to this time. I’ve ate at what feels like a hundred different Azeri homes, in both formal and non-formal situations, and I’ve yet to be at a place that did not have at least two or three aspects of this list (which is not even complete). It drives me bonkers. There have been times where I felt like I could not finish my meal because of hearing and seeing the person and the food in their mouth in front of me. Dramatic? Yes. But it just can get so incredibly overwhelming. (Also, it is fly season in Azerbaijan and we eat outside and there are at least 20 flies on the table, food, and person at all times. Remember, one fly always feels like five are actually around. We have at least 20).

LOUDNESS
Things just seem louder here. People listen to the television on almost the highest volume it can be turned to and music is always at full blast whether it is a young teen’s cellphone on the street or blasting in your ears at a wedding. Also, at least in our house, no one ever, EVER, walks to another room or up the stairs or into the yard to relay a message or tell someone to come to dinner or give them a cellphone. They always, ALWAYS, yell. And yell. And yell. Until somebody, whoever gets fed up with listening to the calling of the person’s name, responds. And then if that person was not the actual target, and just the first one to respond, they go out and call for the right person until they respond. But above all, when people get into arguments here, they yell. Scream at each other really. In a way that you just do not see in America and it makes me really uncomfortable. I have seen it among teachers in the hallway at school (we would consider this highly inappropriate), taxi drivers, policeman, my family members, children, everyone. In your face, screaming, on the verge of hitting someone. And then it is just over. And, again, not only do I severely dislike the noisiness of this all, it also makes me really uncomfortable.

NON-DESCRIPTIVENESS
I used to think it was just a language thing that made people appear to not be describing things very well. But I do not think it is. I think it is just cultural, because Azerbaijani’s have the words in their language to explain better than they do, and often they just do not. Almost all directions are given with a general region, maybe a nearby “name your landmark here.” It could be within four blocks of that, north, east, south, or west, but you would not know which way. Another example would be when people tell you they want you to talk about America, or teach them about computers, or describe the foreign education system. Where to begin, really? I think this is a hard category for me to even put into words, which I think makes it a bit ironic. But it is like when I ask where a pan is and my host mom says the kitchen. If I could say, Thanks Captain Obvious, I would, but I don’t know that, yet. I asked my host cousin, who is the village to city taxi driver, where I could get my fan fixed and he told me in town. Really? I must not have known that before I started loading my fan into your trunk to be taken into town, thank you for the information. I ask my post-grad university students what they want to do with their next two, five, ten years. Usually their responses are, work, or get out of Azerbaijan. But when I say,” Where will you work?, How will you find a job?, What work do you want?, Do you have a C.V. (resume)?”, they just shrug their shoulders and say, work.

COLD
This category could be as big of a rant as the education system, but I’ll try to use some brevity here. In a nut shell, cold is evil, the devil, it makes you sick, and it comes in many, many forms. In one hundred degree heat, everybody must wear socks, because your stomach will hurt if you do not, from the cold. Even at stores, the refridgerators are only turned on between May and September and ice-cream doesn’t appear until June. You cannot have wet hair, it must be dried immediately. No cold milk, water, juice, wine, etc. Always socks. Wrap your stomach at night. Always a hat from November until March at all times. If you get ill at all, it is from the cold, in some form, whether you remember you encountered it or not. If the temperature is under 35 degrees Celsius, that is reason enough. It doesn’t matter if you have the flu, chicken pox, a headache, gas pains, dyptheria, whatever, it is from the cold. As I type this, the daughter-in-law at our house will have a baby in the next week. Because of a threat to the baby’s health from cold, she is not allowed to sleep in the one room (hers) that has an air conditioner. At night she sleeps outside, and during the day she moans and groans from being in pain and being overheated. Sometimes I can understand why people say what they do. But most of the time, it just is not true. And I feel like I have turned a little crazy in my need to defend this point. But I’m not wearing socks in the summer and that is not why my stomach hurts. I truly believe, if people were as diligent about germs and bacteria as they are about avoiding anything that has to do with the cold, there would be Significantly less illness in this country. Significantly less.


These are just a few of the small pet peeves to large campaigns I have concerned myself with while being here. Now, I will say this, remember that I have been without a fan, good sleep, and an adequate diet in the last week. You can take this post with a grain of salt if you would like. Or, embrace that I am feeling comfortable to finally not gloss over every aspect of this experience. Because I know, when I get back to America, I am going to have the coldest can of Diet Pepsi I can find and relish in the fact that no one will harp in my ear, “That’s cold, don’t drink it, you’re going to be ill.”

Time Flies When You Are Having Fun

It has already been a full month plus some since I have been back from Turkey. It feels like just last week I got home. It has been a good and busy month, though, and it is nice to get back into the groove of things. I re-read an email I had sent to my friend at the beginning of July, and it was not very upbeat in reference to Azerbaijan. Coming back from vacation is difficult, especially one as amazing as our yacht trip. As hard as it was, however, I’m back into my routine.
Immediately I attended an Azeri wedding of our mutual friends with a few other volunteers, I celebrated the fourth of July with a barbeque, potato salad, beer, and watermelon, and helped my sitemate put on an Open Mic concert in our city for the youth.













Two weeks ago I finally made my first trip down to the southern part of the Baijan. My friend, Sally, was putting on an arts camp in Masalli for seventh and eighth graders. We made edible color wheels, recreated cave paintings, and attempted Andy Warhol-esque art. After the nine to one art camp, we had the rest of the day to relax, eat, and watch Woody Allen movies. One day we went down to Lankeran (right on the Caspian Sea) and ate chicken stuffed with walnuts, went to the beach, and per usual, got scammed out of a taxi ride on our way home. We also went to the Isti Su, Hot Water, area near Masalli. It is famed for its hot mineral springs and has beautiful restaurants and camping spots for vacation. Fun informative fact: The forest near the Isti Su area is one of the only areas in the world ( Southern Azerbaijan and northern Iran) which contains “Iron trees.” Now maybe there is a true name for them, but this is a direct translation from Azeri. The trees are so dense that they sink in water, and are too difficult to chop down, making it resistant to any deforestation attempts.









I also just got back from a few days of vacationing with Azerbaijanis. This is quite a trip in its own right. We loaded up one mini bus (marshrutka) and two small cars full of 19 people, food, pop, bread, dishes, cups, blankets, pillows, rugs, soccer balls, and clothes for two full days and one night in the mountains. It took us about two hours from Goychay to finally get to the spot, but it was really beautiful. It reminded me a lot of going to the Lakes in Minnesota with my family as a kid. We would be in these remote backwoods resorts and it makes one wonder how you ever heard of something so far removed in the first place. But it is tradition and everyone has a good time so families keep returning. We made kabob and ate watermelon and cake and drank a lot of tea and mountain spring water. Even though it was only knee deep, we all sat and laid in the river and climbed up the mountains to take beautiful pictures.












When I am not tramping from region to region, I have been tutoring kids at my house every day. So far it seems to be one week on, one week off. I have a sixth grade girl that comes in the morning for two hours, and then two older girls that come after her for another two hours. When I am in the city, I try to tag along to my sitemate’s clubs and see the university kids that are home for summer break. I’m supposed to be training for a half marathon as well, but considering I have only run once in the past three weeks, it is not looking promising.
As much as I always think things are going to slow down and I will be bored, it never seems to be the case (I wonder if my mind will ever adjust to this?). Come August, I will tutor for two weeks, and then (if approved) go to Georgia for a few days to hike up a mountain and see a glacier, return for a few days, and then leave to see my friends in the North, go to a Close of Service Conference for Peace Corps, and head to the region where the half marathon will be taking place. Two weeks after that school starts. I now have a little less than four months before I board a plane out of here and I have a feeling it will be the fastest passing four months of my life.

More pictures

Here are more pictures from the yacht. Most of these are downloaded from people on the yacht and are not actually my own pictures. Thank you to Adam for his beautiful photos.

First set of pictures from the trip

The Hagia Sophia (Aya Sophia) By far my biggest recommendation for anyone visiting Istanbul. The Hagia Sophia was first used as a church, later a mosque, and now as a museum. It covers 7000 square meters and the dome is 56 meters high. In December of 537, its monument was dedicated in the city and was considered the most awe inspiring church in the Christian world. In 1453, it was conquered and turned from a church into a mosque. It wasn’t until 1931 that it was declared secular and in 1935 it opened as a museum.



On the very top sections of the domes you can see the depictions from the Christian times

The more eye level sections are almost all from Islam. Here is the mimbar, which corresponds to a pulpit in a church.

The Blue Mosque The Blue Mosque was another one of my favorite sites I saw. It is a quick run through, taking maybe no more than ten minutes to see. It was gorgeous on the inside, and certainly my photos do not do it justice. Everywhere is filled with beautiful blue and white tiled mosaics.





The Yacht

Our sleeping quarters. There were 16 of us and eight cabins.


El Capitan


The front deck of the yacht. This is where I spent most of my time soaking up the sun. The middle section between the rows of beds is where the Yacht Fashion shows took place.


A beautiful night on the Turquoise Riviera

Sailing on the Turquoise Riviera

I finally made it back to the village after my long and satisfying vacation. I have been trying to write a few blog posts about it, but my thoughts are kind of scattered and there is just SO much to say. This was by far the best vacation ever. Or rather, I think I will be hard pressed to find a better one in my lifetime, which is pretty neat to say as a 24 year old. Firstly, it was needed. The vacation was set up through my Peace Corps friend, Josh. He had been planning it for a little over two years (before he even left for Azerbaijan) and invited me and another friend of ours to join in on the experience. So almost every day for five months we sent each other text messages and emails about the excruciating wait. It was a really good event to look forward to, and frankly, I was losing my temper almost once a day with Azerbaijani culture and needed to get out. Secondly, the trip ended up being a perfect balance. We hit up Istanbul for four days without rest. We were still on the two hour behind time change, so the Peace Corps volunteers kept waking up everyone at the hostel by six-thirty. We drank so much Starbucks, walked everywhere and anywhere, hit the major tourist sites, ate pounds and pounds of food and Turkish ice cream, and then went out dancing at night (it was surprising I could even move). After that we did the yacht. It’s going to be hard to describe it all, but suffice it to say, after Istanbul, the only marker for time for eight days was when the cook told us to come eat meals. For eight days I swam, ate, tanned, read my book, swam again, ate again, tanned again, read my book again, and repeated this process at night. The only interruptions were stopping at a beach town for a few hours, participating in yacht fashion shows, learning how to jackknife cannonball off the side of the boat to see who could spray the farthest, and using 15 other people to help finish crosswords. The boat dropped us off in a town called Marmis, but took us back up to Bodrum where we spent one night in a “private villa” (thank you AirBed&Breakfast), and then we slowly started breaking up the mass 16 person group. Four of us went to a town called Selchuk, right outside of Ephesus. Ephesus is considered to have the best preserved Roman ruins in the Mediterranean. While we tried to get moving, nothing really starts in sleepy Selchuk until about 8:30 in the morning. Then we hitched a free ride with the hostel owner’s sister up to the top gate of Ephesus, and by 9:30, the sun was HOT. The ruins were really interesting to see, but we powered through them in about an hour and half when most people take three. It was worth it, though, and I’m not just talking about seeing the culture sites. A two Turkish lira bus ride north of the ruins takes you to a little place called Aqua Fantasy. That is, Europe’s Biggest Water Park. Yes. Nothing can beat the yacht portion of this trip, but boy oh boy, this is a close second. We rode every ride, rocked in the wave pool, floated down the lazy river, picked out our wedgies down free fall slides, and people watched our hearts out. Originally, we took a bus from Istanbul to Bodrum before we boarded the yacht. For the PCV’s, the 12 hour bus ride did not seem too intimidating. We should have known it was not just going to be twelve hours, though. It was two hours of a bus ride, one hour waiting for a ferry, one hour loading and being on the ferry (at this point without air conditioning because the bus was not moving), and then about ten more after that with a few gas station breaks in between. It was not exactly fun. Although, I think for Josh’s friends that came from America, it was almost scarring. Needless to say, for twenty more American dollars, on our return trip home we found a plane that would take us from Izmir to Istanbul the same day as our flight back to Baku, and we wisely chose that route. Finally, the vacation was phenomenal because I did not feel it went too fast or that I did not have enough time. I was hesitant to go back to Azerbaijan, but I was ready. I needed to start running again, going to sleep at a decent hour, eating an appropriate amount of food, stop spending money, do laundry, and sleep in my own bed. I cannot think of a single regret I have about this trip. We were almost late for our plane back to Baku because we stopped for one last Starbucks and Burger King. No regrets. (Judge not. In America, I would have never gone to BK. After two years I cannot stop thinking about milkshakes and greasy fries.) Highlights of Istanbul: *The Hagia Sophia – arguably one of the most beautiful and culturally rich architectural and religious sites in the world. It was gorgeous. Absolutely worth the 25 Turkish Lira and my number one recommendation for anyone visiting Istanbul *Turkish baths – My friend Mercedes and I opted for the half hour oil massage along with the regular soap scrub down at the baths. Worth it. We sat on hot stone slabs in the middle of a sauna type room and worked up a sweat. Later, a woman lathered us up and scrubbed off so much skin. We sat in the Jacuzzi for a while, and then proceeded on to a beautiful massage. *The Spice Bazar – In Turkish, it is called the Egyptian bazar. It has so many different spices, teas, and soaps. The spices are dried, full leaf, pre-packaged, or brought in under your nose while you are there. It is a beautiful bazar, and much less overwhelming than the Grand Bazar. *The Blue Mosque – This beautiful mosque was the first mosque I have ever been in (sets quite the standard). It does not take much time, and the only ‘admission fee’ is if you care to donate a few TLira after you leave. The inside is gorgeous, however, and a good respite from the sun. *The Funicular – Who does not love one of these? Highlights of the Yacht and sailing in the Turquoise Riviera *The food (and the good looking cook that came along with it) – There was honey every morning at breakfast. Honey! The meals consisted of so many vegetables, fruits, olives, mushrooms, and fresh grilled fish (head, eyes, tails, and all) *Swimming in the Sea – I was nervous before about not being a strong swimmer. Who cares in the sea? You virtually float as long as you move around every 35 seconds or so. *Seeing Dolphins – The very last day of our swimming, we spotted dolphins within swimming distance of our yacht. Need I say more? *The pictures – The view was amazing and virtually impossible to get a bad picture. One of Josh’s friends also happens to take brilliant photos which will be available for me to post in the next week. *Sleeping on the deck at night – It did not take long to figure out that the cabins were too hot, and the breeze at night on the deck was beautiful (although the sun in the morning was strong). *Being with Americans again – I was nervous I would have nothing to talk about except Azerbaijan. That might have proved to be a little true, but I had normal conversation, made new friends, and played so many card games. I cannot thank Josh enough for this trip. He planned EVERYTHING. I did nothing to help prepare except Paypal him money. He booked the yacht, the bus, the plane tickets, the hostels, and the hotels (There is more to this list, I’m sure). He also executed a perfect trip for 15 other people. Some of the booking could only be done through Turkish as not everywhere has English speakers. And, all of this was being done from Azerbaijan. Also, a big thanks to my parents who helped me financially with this trip. I had saved up some Azerbaijani manat from Peace Corps and had a little bit back home anticipating the trip, but with their help I was able to opt for the massage, or get Starbucks again, or not take a 15 hour bus ride twice. Thank you so much for that. (Pictures to come!!!)

Lahic - Lahij - Azerbaijan

A few friends and I made a trip to one of the must see sites of Azerbaijan, Lahic. It is an ancient village, up in the mountains of Ismayilli, famous for its copper artisans and cobble stone streets. We stayed with our friend, Nate, in the city of Ismayilli, and made a day trip up to the village. It was an interesting hour and a half trip up in the drizzling rain of steep mountains, narrow, crumbling roads, and Indiana Jones rope bridges (Don't worry, we chose not to cross it). It was completely worth it. This was the best tourist site I have seen so far. We stayed about four hours looking at the beautiful streets, shops, and people. Here is a Lahicite tapping away on his copper. He tried to get his little boy to get out of the way for a better picture, but really, the child is what makes it so cute.

A little break for lunch. Tasty Kabob, tomatoes, and cucumbers with Nate Storey, Allison Breed, and Alec Lisko.

Another nice copper shop. I kept having the "If only I had Lots and Lots of money" thoughts. These would be truly great (and heavy) keepsakes. While walking around here, Nate and I stopped, and spoke for a few minutes for a documentary a woman was making about tourist areas in Azerbaijan. Beads of sweat were gearing up when I asked her if we had to speak in Azerbaijani. Thankfully for all of us, she translated everything.

Allison and I outside of the Mosque

The CUTEST old lady ever. She wouldn't let Allison take the picture without her knitting needles in hand. We stopped by her shop about three times, and I finally bought beautiful blue and red hand knitted ankle socks in traditional style.

Every time we passed by the little old lady's shop, a man kept saying 50 cents for a picture. I understood after awhile he was telling us, we could pay fifty cents to try these beauties on (and then take our own pictues in them - no camera provided). Who wouldn't?

We stopped by the school to check out the murals on the walls. Instead, we were first directed to this. A typical Azerbaijani school decoration. A large soldier to remind everyone of the atrocities inflicted upon them during the Qarabagh war, and the continuing struggle for land and freedom. At this point in our tour, though, the director was alerted to our presence, came over, brought us into his office, and gave us tea and sweets. He was extremely hospitable and unconditionally grateful for the Peace Corps Volunteer they had two years before. It is encounters like those that are humbling about our service here.

Walking around the village

I love these cars

A major MAJOR thanks to my friend and photographer, Allison Breed. The first half and wonderful quality pictures I put up here were her creations.