Getting Hitched in the Baijan

The season of weddings has started again in Azerbaijan. For some reason, there are usually little to none in May, but my family was hit hard in April, and we already have many invitations for June. As I have mentioned before, weddings are the cultural climax of Azerbaijan. In any culture, it is a beautiful way to exchange traditions and rituals, understand old and new ways, and take part in ceremony. But for Azerbaijani’s it is THE way. In America, we just do not attend as many weddings. First and foremost, we do not invite as many people, and secondly, you can only come if you are invited. But here in AZ, it is much different. I have never been to a wedding below three hundred people and the biggest one has been my host brother’s at five hundred plus. And I have been to more weddings here than I have in my life in America.

I went to a wedding this past weekend in a neighboring village at a house that last year hosted the very first wedding I had ever been to in country. This was and still is the MOST “village” wedding I have ever attended. It had dirt floors, the cotton lettering to say “Welcome” on the sign was falling off, after all the men got extremely drunk, they shot off guns in celebration, there was a huge fight between the drunk men while the women scrambled over plastic chairs to get out of the way, and the groom did not allow the bride to be seen until he was ready to consummate the marriage (Again, this was a village wedding). My family still likes to poke fun at me that I was so scared last year. I would like to point out, there were guns being shot off in the middle of crowds and men were throwing punches next to our table and all of these participants were wasted. Also, I am 90% certain they were a little embarrassed I witnessed this so they joke with me to lighten the mood. So they gave me an extra hard time this year when they told me the other brother was getting married and I was going back. Now, even though I have described before what happened at my host brother’s wedding, I am going to give a brief (or not so brief) rundown of a typical wedding in Azerbaijan. Part of Peace Corps goals are to teach Azerbaijanis about America, and teach America about Azerbaijanis, and if there was one thing an Azerbaijani could tell an American about, it would their weddings. Usually there are two weddings for each couple. The first is called the Girl’s Wedding and the second, the Boy’s. They are nearly identical, except for a few key differences. The Girl’s wedding is always first and usually by a few weeks to a month. The bride can wear any color dress she would like and the guests consist mainly of her relatives, friends, and neighbors with usually only immediate family (first cousins, uncles, aunts) of the groom. At the Boy’s wedding, she must wear white with a red ribbon tied around her waist. Before the wedding, a few ceremonial customs take place, including the brother of the groom tying the red ribbon, walking hand in hand with her father around a lamp three times, and another ritual involving breaking a dish (but I don’t know the exact details and don’t want to be incorrect in saying them). Depending on how conservative the groom (and maybe the bride’s family – but usually he makes the decisions) and his family are, at his wedding, the girl’s mom may or may not be present, and there may be immediate family of hers there or there may not be. Before the Boy’s wedding, the groom along with a parade of cars goes to pick up the bride. Her family brings out all of her suitcases and things because she officially moves to his house that day. Then they bring her out to the wedding and it commences.

There are specific buildings in Azerbaijan solely for weddings. They are called “Wedding Palaces” and are similar to a banquet hall (except only weddings are held here!). Nowadays, it is much more common for weddings to be held at a palace and city folk turn their nose up at the village weddings. Or rather, everyone likes a village wedding as long as it’s not their own. At both the village and palace weddings, tables are split up for men on one side, women on the other (No set spots, sit with whom you like-keeping in mind gender separation). And either down the middle of the table aisles, or a designated spot near the front, people get up and dance. The tables are set with food and often so many plates there is not a place to set your glass for water. The food usually goes like this: Already set on the table is cold food or appetizers: mayonnaise salads, cold chicken legs, fried breaded meat deliciousness, cheese, bread, cucumbers and tomatoes. After people dig in for about a half hour on that, out comes a hot course: usually either the national dish of dolma (ground meat wrapped in grape leaves), or a meat/potato/soup combination. After that is usually kebab. Extremely grilled, usually charred, meat and fat with onions and greens sprinkled on top. All of these courses take about two to three hours (Remember: There can be up to 500 mouths to serve and feed). There is also juice and water (booze at the men’s tables), greens, napkins, salt, sugar for when tea is served, and all plates that haven’t been cleared.

While this is happening, music is usually (blaring) playing up front, and in between people are making speeches. However, unlike America, there are up to fifty people who will say something to the bride and groom throughout the evening, and most of the guests do not actually listen. Everything is videotaped, and the best part of the weddings is getting the DVD or video afterwards. (Truly, the best part is there is no editing, so you see all six hours of a wedding- from the twenty minute drive of getting the bride to every person’s bored face and attempt to avoid the video camera while they are eating). Throughout it all, people get up and dance, but you must be invited to dance. An invitation either comes from the singer/emcee (for example, the bride’s aunts and uncles please come up and dance), or while someone is dancing they’ll lock eyes with you and motion for you to get up and come.

Later in the evening, there will be a little ceremony in which the national meal, plov (good, oily rice topped with chestnuts, meat, and raisins), is brought out with torches and usually served to the bride and groom first and then brought out to the guests. After people eat this there is usually another cake cutting ceremony and then if the youngsters are lucky, a discotheque. Almost everyone gives money to the bride and groom, and it is recorded as it is given (this pays for the seats and food at the wedding, plus hopefully a little more to get the new family started). A region wedding is usually about 20 manat (Azerbaijani currency) per seat, a Baku wedding is 50 to 100 manat a seat. Towards the end, people also bring homemade cakes and chocolate and such because for about two weeks after the wedding, the family will host guests who have come to congratulate the happy couple. Palace weddings last usually five hours, village weddings last days. This weekend we went at 5:30 p.m., the bride arrived at six; everyone went home at two in the morning. However, there were over 100 guests the night before ‘helping’ to prepare for the next day, and there was about 60 more guests the next day celebrating the union of the marriage. Rumor has it at these village weddings, they show the sheet to confirm the bride was a virgin before the wedding. However, at both my host brother’s wedding, and both of these village ones I have been to, I have managed to avoid this ceremony, and therefore cannot confirm this (it absolutely happened in the past, though). I know there is so much more that could be said on this topic. After all, it is the main cultural event here. And while it is pretty standard across the board, there are always variations that could be explained. But, in my not-so-brief brief explanation, there just isn’t time. If you have any questions, I’ll be happy to answer them, though!

Bronchi-saurus

Being sick in Azerbaijan is not what I would call an ideally good time. In fact, I would identify it as the time when I am most frustrated by the culture or my service. For about the past five years, I have gotten ill at the same time every single year. This is no exaggeration folks. I say five years because the doctor records prove it, but it could be longer. It all started when I transferred to North Dakota State University and moved into the dorms with THE strangest roommate. Maybe ever. She would lie in bed day and night and hardly eat anything. When I asked her if she was sick, if she had mono, or strep throat, or was depressed, she always just said no. But then one day she was gone. Just gone. Most of her things were still there, but her toothbrush, computer, and the girl were missing. After about a week, I reported it to the Resident Assistant, who did not seem to be too worried about it. During her absence however, I developed major strep throat and mono. I had never had either of these before and was certain the devil himself had come into my room to take me to hell. Eventually after some strong medications and two weeks in bed/falling asleep in the classes I attempted to go to, I pulled around. Surprisingly, my roommate and her mother showed up one day, packed up all of her belongings, and left. Wouldn’t you know it, she had mono and strep throat and had gone home to recover. I cannot even recall her name anymore. That was the end of January, beginning of February in 2007.
In 2008, I went to the student health center where the nurse joked that I was admitted the same exact day the year before for the same symptoms. Unfortunately that year, I spent about four months doing a song and dance of strep throat, mono, and antibiotics, until it all culminated in chopping out my tonsils in April. Getting my tonsils out helped immensely. But last year I spent Valentine’s Day in the hotel in Baku from an acute case of bronchitis that had plagued me for a few weeks. And this year I repeated that story.
After being here for a year and a half, getting sick should seem relatively routine. Usually at home you would call work, stock up on juice and soup at the store, and settle in at home with some movies and books. I still find I am juggling a weird mixture of Azerbaijani methods and American methods, though. For example, I would love to retreat into a silence that is all mine. However, the only warm room in the house is the one where the two children are screaming and throwing toys, my host dad and brother are playing a really loud form of backgammon, and my sister-in-laws are gossiping with my host mom. Usually this means I take refuge upstairs in my cold, unheated room. However, I do that fully knowing I will then suffer from hearing every single person berate me on the evils of laying in my cold room and one hundred “I told you so’s” before the end of the day is over. I have learned to pick some of my battles though. For example, I would rather lie in the cold, cold room than be in the hot room with all of the noise. I have wholly accepted the cupping treatment because even though it is frightening, it is easier to do than hearing people tell me the reason I am not getting better is because I haven’t done it yet. I now wrap my head after I shower and sit next to the wood stove for a few hours so I don’t “catch more of a cold.” But some things I won’t back down on, either. I really dislike the tea with a certain bitter jam mixed in which is ‘medicine.’ It is not medicine and it tastes awful. Vitamins, sleep, and lots of water are the trifecta of recovery. Chicken noodle soup and Ferris Bueller’s Day Off make me feel like I’m at home on a day off from school. And mostly, I absolutely love taking American medications and immediately feeling better from them. We may be an overmedicated society, but it sure is effective.
I really hope this is the last time I ever have to experience Bronchitis again. It is no cup of tea, and twice was enough. I am happy I am starting to figure out the little things that make recovering from an illness easier. While it is not always smooth sailing, and usually I am pretty frustrated by the amount of people chiming in their thoughts on my sickness, I am happy that I live in a PC country that I can get to the doctor in less than a day.

**Fun Fact: In Azerbaijani, the word “Sick” is one of the most offensive swear words in the language. It is equivalent to the F word in English. I know have trained myself to only ever say ill, and often cringe when I hear others say sick.

As promised.... Pictures from Italy

As promised, some of the pictures from Italy. These are just a brief few from the trip.

Some of the ruins and statues around Rome.



Just walking around, exploring the city, eating good food, and drinking out of the public water fountains.








This is the hotel my parents stayed at 33 years before when they came to Italy. They celebrated their 35th wedding anniversary in Rome.



The Colosseum






We went to the Borghese Museum and park. This was by far the most enjoyable site we saw in Rome (in my opinion). I loved the museum. It was the perfect size.





The Trevi fountain





A trip to the Vatican




We went to a nearby hill town, Orvieto, for the day. It had a beautiful church, little pottery stores, great wine, and a beautiful view of the countryside below. The church had a sacred cloth in it. I would try and describe more but I would probably butcher the explanation. The front of the church had the story of the Bible sculpted into it. It was amazing artwork.

Pictures from Rome

Trust me, I didn't forget the best part of my year! As life often goes here in Azerbaijan, the internet is not cooperating as I would like to be uploading pictures from Italy. Hopefully I can get some up soon, though. Stay tuned.

After a long hiatus.. I'm back.

Pomegranate Festival




Winners of the costume contest
Pin the Nose on the Pumpkin. A huge hit at the Halloween party.
It has been a long time since I have updated this blog. I think a variety of reasons contributed to my absence. It would be nice to say I was so terribly busy I just did not have time, but I think that would be stretching it. Mostly, looking back on last fall/ early winter, I realize I was pretty homesick.
We come to Peace Corps not knowing anyone from our group of sixty and they end up becoming family within forty eight hours. It is sort of a strange phenomenon but a close cohort of any kind is a scientific study in and of itself. I was really thankful when I was placed at my permanent site for two years with two of the men who were in my language training cluster. We were already extremely close and I knew I was lucky to have their support for the remainder of my service. But even better than that, we were placed in Goychay with two girls from the AZ7 (I am an AZ8) group who were wonderful. I grew really close to both Rikki and Megan and we had a blast getting to know each. But as the saying goes, time flies when you are having fun. Megan ended up leaving in September and Rikki in November. And frankly, it was a really hard adjustment. Saying goodbye to people here is not as simple as it is in America. It has to be done many times, and not just a hug, but a long lasting multiple course dinner round with tea before and twice after. After about four different ‘good-bye’ dinners with Rikki and her Azerbaijani friends, I had to stop being her plus one, it was just too sad.
My homesickness was compounded by seeing my family in Rome for Christmas and it was hard knowing I was so close to seeing them, but not quite there yet. I was stressed out enough that the Peace Corps doctor had to be tough on me. The conversation went something like this:

Emily: (Calling the doc in Baku) Hi Doctor. I think I may have parasites again. Will you send me a stool sample?

PCDr.: (Sigh) Yes, Emily, I will send you a stool sample, but I think we need to have a talk. This will be the third one you have taken in the past two months, and both have come up negative for parasites. It truly seems that you are just stressed out.

Emily: Oh. I think you’re right.


She was.
Stress is not always the issue. It is how one handles it. But that is not always my strong suit. My escape and coping mechanisms for stress could be another blog post on its own. Instead, I am going to give you a crash course on what I did while I was not attending to my blog.


October: October was my most productive school month of this year. My counterpart was pretty gung ho about new ideas (Venn Diagrams!) and we did not have a single holiday to break up the weeks. The new trainees come from America and live in Sumgayit for three months soaking up knowledge before being sent to the regions. In the middle they also go and visit volunteers for a week and see what site is really like, what we do at school, how we live, and eat non-Azeri food. I had two girls come out and visit the village.
We talk the kids “The Wheels on the Bus” song and went to both of my counterparts’ houses for a lot of food. My counterpart and I threw a Halloween party for fifth through tenth form students. We had a costume contest (I was a bag of tea), food, music, card making station, and a Pin the Nose on the Pumpkin game. After that, I made my way up to the north finger of Azerbaijan to Shabran and had an American Halloween with some of the volunteers.
Our Training group was reunited! Tagiyev 19.

November: I started November by traveling to Baku and spending a week helping with the new trainees’ English teaching practicum. I observed the classes they were teaching and provided feedback and helped our program manager with her reports for the trainees. I then came back to the best part of living in Goychay: Pomegranate Festival.
It happens every year in our region and is spectacular. There are booths from every village, town, restaurant, etc. showing off their best pomegranates, there is a Pomegranate Princess who drives up in a nice car, the ambassadors from America, Russia, and Japan came, and there is a concert at night.



November also brought “Gurban Bayrami” or the Sacrificial holiday. We sacrifice a sheep and then give a third of it to our neighbors, a third of it to the poor, and keep a third for ourselves. This was happening at the same time it was persimmon harvest. We spent about two weeks from morning until night hand picking the persimmons from the trees and lining them up nicely so the people who sell them to Russia can come and see the selection. November also brought the leaving of the AZ7’s which I celebrated in Baku and Thanksgiving which was held at the Charge d’affaires’ house (Butterball Turkeys!).



December: My Birthday! The kids at school sang me “Happy Birthday,” the teachers made a cake, and my sitemates, Alec and Matt, came out to the house for supper with the family. I got peppery perfume, underwear, and towels from the Azeris, and incense, coffee, and cards from the Americans. Then I waited for Rome. My parents had spent a long time preparing for Italy, and everything went smoothly. I met my mom, dad, sister, brother, and brother’s girlfriend in Rome for ten days for Christmas. It was glorious. It almost feels like a dream now.

January: I readjusted to Azerbaijan by spending New Year’s in Baku. I went to school for a few weeks, and then took another week long break at our Mid-Service conference in Baku. All of the volunteers from my group met together for the first time since the previous December to talk about the best practices from the year before and the sustainability of the next year of service. We also picked dates for when we will leave (November 29th!), had guest speakers from the Clean World (Temiz Dunya) organization which fights human trafficking and champions for women’s rights, and watched our fellow volunteers compete for Azerbaijan’s spot on Eurovision (they did not make it). I also quit having my English conversation clubs and started a health club in Azerbaijani for my sixth and seventh graders.

Now I am back in February. I have made some New Year’s resolutions which include me getting back into the swing of updating my blog. I am looking forward to a yacht trip off the coast of Turkey in June and am using that to start cooking for myself more at home. We’ve recently been hit with one of the coldest winters Azerbaijan has seen, but so far the brown monster (Peace Corps issued sleeping bag – It is large, brown, and so very warm) has kept me frost free.

My brother up in the tree picking away
This wove all the way upstairs as well
Getting ready for winter: Cutting up beans to can
A training in Goychay on using interactive methods with our textbooks. Josh Ehrenreich came down from Khachmaz to lead it for teachers in our region.

My sitemate Rikki's host father and his granddaughter at the Pomegranate Festival