March 31, 2010
The staring never stopped, either in Sumqayit, the town I live or in Ganja, the city I visited. Everyone just kept watching me. I am beginning to accept that because I have three heads, six eyes, two mouths and a big pair of ugly ear, therefore, they have the reason to stare at me. I can tolerate the stare but when it accelerates to physical contact, I am frightened to death!
This morning on my way to the bus station, I received more than just stare from three teenage boys. They actually attacked me, sexually harassed me and they bought me into tears. The worse part is when I asked for help from some elder men; they just ignored me and thought it was “ok”
for what the teenage boys did. I am beginning to fear of my safety here.
It was about 9:30 this morning. I was on my way to the bus station to Baku. From my new apartment to the bus station is about 10 minutes’ walk. The street usually is quite busy, so I did not think of anyone would have the opportunity to harm me. I did not hear anything before it happened, I just felt my bottom was being hit hard, then a hand grasped it and then a big burst of laugh. Three teenage boys between 15-17 years old appeared in front of me. After the attack, they did not go away; they walked next to me and waited for my reaction. I was shocked first but when I realized what just happened, I was angry. I screamed so loud and hoped that someone would come and stop them. As soon as I screamed, these three dreadful human beings ran and disappeared to a distance. I could still see them. They did not run too far, still watching me. So I ran towards three elder men and showed them what the boys did to me. They looked at the boys and then signed me to go away.
I lost it, so I yelled at them and told them in Azeri “I am an American”, then in English “I am calling the police”. I picked up my cell phone and pretended that I was actually calling the police, so the teenage boys would not come back.
I began to shake; I was terrified and mad at the same time. I felt alone and helpless. Finally, sitting on the bus to Baku, I began to cry. I sent a text message to Peace Corps security officer. He called me back immediately and asked me to go to the Peace Corps office right away. I really did not know where else to go. I felt so dirty, my butt was very dirty, it needed to be cleaned, cleaned again and again….It sounds so crazy. I think only a woman can understand exactly how I felt that moment.
On my way back home, I panicked every time when I saw a group of teenage boys. I locked all my windows and doors as soon as I got home. I know the fear will not go away for a while.
20 more months to go, can I make it??
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
My Life in Azerbaijan - Visit another City
March 26, 2010
Finally I have a chance to get away from Sumqayit and visit another city, Ganja where Vivian and Carol live. Ganja is the 2nd biggest city in Azerbaijan, and it was the Capital of Azerbaijan before Baku. It is a pretty little town with clean avenues, impressive government buildings, nice Turkey restaurants; old Germany built apartment buildings and a huge park. The city actually has street light!
I am happy to see Vivian and Carol again. Vivian and I were inseparable during the training in Sumqayit. I have not seen her for four months after the training. She lost some weight and looks as pretty as before. Carol lost weight too and she is still one of the most interesting women I met in Peace Corps. We spent the entire afternoon chatting in a tea house (where woman is forbidden to enter, but we did not care) catching up with latest Peace Corps news, exchanging host family complains and sharing information about our apartment hunting. Similar to my feeling, both Vivian and Carol are eager to move out of their host family by April. Vivian’s host family situation is getting worse every day and she is even afraid to tell them that she is leaving. Seeing the fear in her face, I wonder, how many of us really enjoy the host family experience.
They both found their little place to live, nothing fancy and not cheap either. They have to share the apartment with another Peace Corps volunteer in order to afford the rent. Vivian shows me her new home. It is really not a “nice” place to live but the place has a yard where Vivian can plant her vegetable garden. She is excited about that.
After knowing other people’s problems, I feel better now. Tomorrow I will return to Sumqayit and say good bye to my host family. I am frightened, petrified, SCARD !!!
Finally I have a chance to get away from Sumqayit and visit another city, Ganja where Vivian and Carol live. Ganja is the 2nd biggest city in Azerbaijan, and it was the Capital of Azerbaijan before Baku. It is a pretty little town with clean avenues, impressive government buildings, nice Turkey restaurants; old Germany built apartment buildings and a huge park. The city actually has street light!
I am happy to see Vivian and Carol again. Vivian and I were inseparable during the training in Sumqayit. I have not seen her for four months after the training. She lost some weight and looks as pretty as before. Carol lost weight too and she is still one of the most interesting women I met in Peace Corps. We spent the entire afternoon chatting in a tea house (where woman is forbidden to enter, but we did not care) catching up with latest Peace Corps news, exchanging host family complains and sharing information about our apartment hunting. Similar to my feeling, both Vivian and Carol are eager to move out of their host family by April. Vivian’s host family situation is getting worse every day and she is even afraid to tell them that she is leaving. Seeing the fear in her face, I wonder, how many of us really enjoy the host family experience.
They both found their little place to live, nothing fancy and not cheap either. They have to share the apartment with another Peace Corps volunteer in order to afford the rent. Vivian shows me her new home. It is really not a “nice” place to live but the place has a yard where Vivian can plant her vegetable garden. She is excited about that.
After knowing other people’s problems, I feel better now. Tomorrow I will return to Sumqayit and say good bye to my host family. I am frightened, petrified, SCARD !!!
Monday, March 29, 2010
My Life in Azerbaijan - I am Done!
March 22, 2010
In front of me is the usual pile of dirty dishes, forts, spoon, knifes, cups, pot and pens. This morning, the family has some guests over, so the pile of dishes is bigger than normal. The elder sister dumps more into the pile, then walks away. The middle sister lying on the couch resting after the big meal and the youngest one; never touches any dirty dishes. Ana passes me, does not say a word; she is expecting me, who for the past six month has been washing the family dishes every day, to perform the same duty again. These four women know very well that Chi will do the dishes. She will dry them, put them away as well.
I should be mad, but I am not. After all, it is my fault, I started to do it since day one I moved in this family. I did get mad once and stopped talking to the family for two days. They did not understand why I was upset, so they disapproved my behavior by talking about me, in front of me until I could not stand it anymore. So I gave up and accepted the fact that, I am the dish washing machine. I will do all the dishes.
It is really no big deal to do the dishes. I am a very organized person. I can not stand seeing all the dirty dishes piling up and sitting in the sink for hours. The family does not seem to mind but I do. Besides, I don’t feel right not to help after eating a meal which is cooked by my host mother. For that reason, I feel guilty not to wash any dishes. I know I have been taken advantage by this thoughtfulness and I have turned into a dish washer for these past six months.
But I am leaving this family in a week, will I miss them? I think I will miss serving Nene (grandmother) tea everyday at 5:00pm. Nene loves to order me to give her tea and it has to be freshly brewed tea. Not because she is a mean old lady but because she loves my attention. No one in the family seems to give her any. I have grown loving her each day, watching her talking endlessly about how bad everything is. I smile and nod, pretend that I understand. Nene just wants to talk to someone; that is all.
I will miss my room. It is inside this little room that I could be myself, wrote my journal, ate my own foods, watched DVDs, said my prayer, read “J” 's e-mails and had my dreams.
If I was much younger, I probably would have cried so many nights here… but I am older, I swallowed them. Last year’s Peace Corps Volunteer who stayed with this family has the same feeling as I have. She and I communicated and we both agree; no another American should ever be placed in this home again.
I still could not understand why ana always served me the smallest piece of chicken, why I always had to eat family left over foods and why I sometimes had to go to bed hungry….was I really such a bad guest?
In front of me is the usual pile of dirty dishes, forts, spoon, knifes, cups, pot and pens. This morning, the family has some guests over, so the pile of dishes is bigger than normal. The elder sister dumps more into the pile, then walks away. The middle sister lying on the couch resting after the big meal and the youngest one; never touches any dirty dishes. Ana passes me, does not say a word; she is expecting me, who for the past six month has been washing the family dishes every day, to perform the same duty again. These four women know very well that Chi will do the dishes. She will dry them, put them away as well.
I should be mad, but I am not. After all, it is my fault, I started to do it since day one I moved in this family. I did get mad once and stopped talking to the family for two days. They did not understand why I was upset, so they disapproved my behavior by talking about me, in front of me until I could not stand it anymore. So I gave up and accepted the fact that, I am the dish washing machine. I will do all the dishes.
It is really no big deal to do the dishes. I am a very organized person. I can not stand seeing all the dirty dishes piling up and sitting in the sink for hours. The family does not seem to mind but I do. Besides, I don’t feel right not to help after eating a meal which is cooked by my host mother. For that reason, I feel guilty not to wash any dishes. I know I have been taken advantage by this thoughtfulness and I have turned into a dish washer for these past six months.
But I am leaving this family in a week, will I miss them? I think I will miss serving Nene (grandmother) tea everyday at 5:00pm. Nene loves to order me to give her tea and it has to be freshly brewed tea. Not because she is a mean old lady but because she loves my attention. No one in the family seems to give her any. I have grown loving her each day, watching her talking endlessly about how bad everything is. I smile and nod, pretend that I understand. Nene just wants to talk to someone; that is all.
I will miss my room. It is inside this little room that I could be myself, wrote my journal, ate my own foods, watched DVDs, said my prayer, read “J” 's e-mails and had my dreams.
If I was much younger, I probably would have cried so many nights here… but I am older, I swallowed them. Last year’s Peace Corps Volunteer who stayed with this family has the same feeling as I have. She and I communicated and we both agree; no another American should ever be placed in this home again.
I still could not understand why ana always served me the smallest piece of chicken, why I always had to eat family left over foods and why I sometimes had to go to bed hungry….was I really such a bad guest?
My Life in Azerbaijan - Food Poisoning
March 20, 2010
Thursday morning after breakfast, I went to work. As soon as I got to the bank, I felt chill all over my body. Usually it is a sign of a cold or flu. I was frustrated because I have been very careful, washed my hands often, did extra exercise to get my body stronger and ate a big apple everyday (it is the Fuji apple, imported, expensive!)
The symptom got worse by noon, so I decided to go home early. By 7:00pm, ana got home and asked me to help making dinner. Normally I would not feel so tired working in the kitchen for two hours, but by 9:00pm, I felt like I was hit by a train, nearly exhausted! By then, I was certain that I had a flu. My stomach also began to hurt. I went to bed early. After an hour in bed, my stomach began to make a lot of noise. I had to go to the bathroom so badly, not once, not twice but three times and I had the urge to throw up as well.
I took two Tylenols and accepted the fact that I had flu. I was determined that for the next 72 hours, I would do nothing but sleep through this. By midnight, I woke up with a chill, I felt so cold. The precious heater was right next to me, but I still felt so unbelievable cold. I was shivering in spite of many layers of blankets I put on top of myself. Half hour later, I felt so hot. I was burning hot with fever. An hour later, the chill came back, then the heat, back and forth, back and forth, whole night long, in between, I still kept going to the bathroom. By dawn, I developed a bad cramp in my stomach and I was lying in bed completely dehydrated. I wanted someone to help me, to give me some water…..
I waited until 7:30am and called my host sister to give me some tea. I told her I was very ill. Meanwhile, I sent a text message to Peace Corps doctor. After telling him all my symptoms, he told me I had food poisoning and a bad virus in my stomach. He talked to my host sister a few minutes and asked her to prepare everything for me; tea with extra sugar, glass of water with lots of cinnamon, piece of bread or rice soup with nothing was the only food I allowed to have. As for the cramp, tied a piece of cloth around my stomach tightly and put hot water bottle on top of my belly. By now, ana and all my three sisters were in my room. They talked endless about me, gave ideas what to do. I wanted them to leave me alone so I could sleep quietly, I had no energy to protest, just closed my eyes and pretended I was asleep.
Remember a friend told me, the best thing to cure a virus in your stomach is to starve yourself. Eat nothing so the virus will have nothing to eat either. After the virus is starved to death, then you are cured. I tried this method when I was in Nepal, and it worked. The next 24 hours, I ate nothing, just drank tea. By Sunday, I fully recovered except lost a few pounds… I am too skinny right now, just too skinny.
Thursday morning after breakfast, I went to work. As soon as I got to the bank, I felt chill all over my body. Usually it is a sign of a cold or flu. I was frustrated because I have been very careful, washed my hands often, did extra exercise to get my body stronger and ate a big apple everyday (it is the Fuji apple, imported, expensive!)
The symptom got worse by noon, so I decided to go home early. By 7:00pm, ana got home and asked me to help making dinner. Normally I would not feel so tired working in the kitchen for two hours, but by 9:00pm, I felt like I was hit by a train, nearly exhausted! By then, I was certain that I had a flu. My stomach also began to hurt. I went to bed early. After an hour in bed, my stomach began to make a lot of noise. I had to go to the bathroom so badly, not once, not twice but three times and I had the urge to throw up as well.
I took two Tylenols and accepted the fact that I had flu. I was determined that for the next 72 hours, I would do nothing but sleep through this. By midnight, I woke up with a chill, I felt so cold. The precious heater was right next to me, but I still felt so unbelievable cold. I was shivering in spite of many layers of blankets I put on top of myself. Half hour later, I felt so hot. I was burning hot with fever. An hour later, the chill came back, then the heat, back and forth, back and forth, whole night long, in between, I still kept going to the bathroom. By dawn, I developed a bad cramp in my stomach and I was lying in bed completely dehydrated. I wanted someone to help me, to give me some water…..
I waited until 7:30am and called my host sister to give me some tea. I told her I was very ill. Meanwhile, I sent a text message to Peace Corps doctor. After telling him all my symptoms, he told me I had food poisoning and a bad virus in my stomach. He talked to my host sister a few minutes and asked her to prepare everything for me; tea with extra sugar, glass of water with lots of cinnamon, piece of bread or rice soup with nothing was the only food I allowed to have. As for the cramp, tied a piece of cloth around my stomach tightly and put hot water bottle on top of my belly. By now, ana and all my three sisters were in my room. They talked endless about me, gave ideas what to do. I wanted them to leave me alone so I could sleep quietly, I had no energy to protest, just closed my eyes and pretended I was asleep.
Remember a friend told me, the best thing to cure a virus in your stomach is to starve yourself. Eat nothing so the virus will have nothing to eat either. After the virus is starved to death, then you are cured. I tried this method when I was in Nepal, and it worked. The next 24 hours, I ate nothing, just drank tea. By Sunday, I fully recovered except lost a few pounds… I am too skinny right now, just too skinny.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
My Life in Azerbaijan - I Found an Apartment!
March 18, 2010
After all the disappointment, frustration and desperation, I finally found the apartment that I like. A one bed room cozy place, located near the Caspian Sea and it is only five
minutes walk to the bank; completely renovated, with high ceiling, nice furniture and facing the park. What I like the most is its big tall balcony window. In the summer, I can open the door and let the ocean breeze cold down the apartment. It is located on the 2nd floor of an old building that has so much charm and characters; with little European balcony, detail wall design, and shining wooden floor, the kind of buildings that we often found in Park Avenue of New York. I fell in love with it the first time I saw it but it was the price that precluded me from saying “yes” to the landlord.
For the America
n standard, this place would be a big bargain. In New York City, this little apartment easily costs over 3,000 a month, but here in Azerbaijan it is much less. Nevertheless, for the local standard, it is still very expensive. When I decide to take it, my co-workers at the bank were all shocked. The rent alone is more than their monthly salary. How can I afford it? Well, at this point I do not know. All I care about is: I do not need to worry sick about where to live in April, and I am completely relieved that I will have my freedom back starting that day. For me, it is priceless.
I already have a big plan for what I am going to do in April. I will walk to work everyday, have a relaxing breakfast every morning, come home for lunch, and at night cook myself a nice healthy dinner. After work, I will take a long long walk along the Sea, do some exercise in the park and be happy again. Weekend, I will travel to where the mountains are and begin my mountain hiking activities again.
For the next 20 months, this little place will be my home. I love it!
After all the disappointment, frustration and desperation, I finally found the apartment that I like. A one bed room cozy place, located near the Caspian Sea and it is only five
minutes walk to the bank; completely renovated, with high ceiling, nice furniture and facing the park. What I like the most is its big tall balcony window. In the summer, I can open the door and let the ocean breeze cold down the apartment. It is located on the 2nd floor of an old building that has so much charm and characters; with little European balcony, detail wall design, and shining wooden floor, the kind of buildings that we often found in Park Avenue of New York. I fell in love with it the first time I saw it but it was the price that precluded me from saying “yes” to the landlord.For the America
n standard, this place would be a big bargain. In New York City, this little apartment easily costs over 3,000 a month, but here in Azerbaijan it is much less. Nevertheless, for the local standard, it is still very expensive. When I decide to take it, my co-workers at the bank were all shocked. The rent alone is more than their monthly salary. How can I afford it? Well, at this point I do not know. All I care about is: I do not need to worry sick about where to live in April, and I am completely relieved that I will have my freedom back starting that day. For me, it is priceless.I already have a big plan for what I am going to do in April. I will walk to work everyday, have a relaxing breakfast every morning, come home for lunch, and at night cook myself a nice healthy dinner. After work, I will take a long long walk along the Sea, do some exercise in the park and be happy again. Weekend, I will travel to where the mountains are and begin my mountain hiking activities again.
For the next 20 months, this little place will be my home. I love it!
Monday, March 15, 2010
My Life in Azerbaijan - Chicken Fight
March 15, 2010
After work, I usually exercise for an hour in my host family’s back garden. Now spring is here and while I am stretching, climbing stairs and jumping up and down, the birds would be singing above me, the family’s three kitties would be chasing each other in front of me, sometimes, stop and “mew mew” at me then go on their way again in the garden. Today while I am doing my normal routine, I witness the “Chicken Fight”. First it is entertaining, and then it turns scaring and finally it becomes bloody.
I dislike violence and never saw a chicken fight or any human fight except in the movie. I remember watching the movie “Gladiator” which has so many violent scenes that I ended up covering my ears and eyes for half of the movie. My heart would be pounding like crazy if I hear people shouting at each other. One time, I saw two men were in the heat of an argument and they were about to hit each other, I froze and turned pale. I begged people around me to stop them, to call 911, and finally I covered my eyes and ran away.
These two male chickens are always the trouble makers. They make lots of noise in the morning and they are constantly are on top of the hens, driving all the hens crazy. Some hens are still “teenagers” but these two cocks do not care, they have to be on top of every single hen. (in human term, we call this rape!) It is the power play, I know, a typical “male” thing. I do not know how it begins, when I discover the fight, one of the cocks already has blood on its neck. But boy oh boy, he is mad, kicking, jumping and flying all over the chicken shed. The other cock is mad too. Since he is a little bit bigger, it looks like he is going to win the fight. I watch them for a few minutes and begin to feel disgusted. I also feel bad for the loser. Its entire neck is covered with blood and its head, most of the time, get pinned down by the other cock. As the fight progresses, I get scared. “Stop the fight!” a voice inside me urges me to stop the two stupid chickens from killing each other.
“Get, Get” (in Azeri means go away),
“Stop, or I will slaughter you tonight, both of you!” (now I switch to English, hoping they will stop)
No response, they are still fighting
So I go to my room, take my camera and photo this historical moment. I guess the flash scares them for a second, they stop and then they are back at each other again. I really do not want to see any more of this fight, so I get a stick and walk into the shed. My present scares other chickens; they are flying, screaming and running everywhere. However, these two trouble makers ignore me entirely and go on their up and down head motion. Finally, I give up and go back to my room.
Later I show my host mother the pictures and tell her to make these two bad boys our next dinner meals.
“Yox, Chi, yurmutar yoxdur” Ana disagreed, She said “ If we kill them, the hen will have no eggs!” Oh boy!
Updated news: the loser did die. My host mother found its corpse next day. so sad... Why they had to fight? Why couldn't they just live in Peace with each other? I don't like a lot of people, but I never thought of killing them??? I donot understand it....
After work, I usually exercise for an hour in my host family’s back garden. Now spring is here and while I am stretching, climbing stairs and jumping up and down, the birds would be singing above me, the family’s three kitties would be chasing each other in front of me, sometimes, stop and “mew mew” at me then go on their way again in the garden. Today while I am doing my normal routine, I witness the “Chicken Fight”. First it is entertaining, and then it turns scaring and finally it becomes bloody.
I dislike violence and never saw a chicken fight or any human fight except in the movie. I remember watching the movie “Gladiator” which has so many violent scenes that I ended up covering my ears and eyes for half of the movie. My heart would be pounding like crazy if I hear people shouting at each other. One time, I saw two men were in the heat of an argument and they were about to hit each other, I froze and turned pale. I begged people around me to stop them, to call 911, and finally I covered my eyes and ran away.
These two male chickens are always the trouble makers. They make lots of noise in the morning and they are constantly are on top of the hens, driving all the hens crazy. Some hens are still “teenagers” but these two cocks do not care, they have to be on top of every single hen. (in human term, we call this rape!) It is the power play, I know, a typical “male” thing. I do not know how it begins, when I discover the fight, one of the cocks already has blood on its neck. But boy oh boy, he is mad, kicking, jumping and flying all over the chicken shed. The other cock is mad too. Since he is a little bit bigger, it looks like he is going to win the fight. I watch them for a few minutes and begin to feel disgusted. I also feel bad for the loser. Its entire neck is covered with blood and its head, most of the time, get pinned down by the other cock. As the fight progresses, I get scared. “Stop the fight!” a voice inside me urges me to stop the two stupid chickens from killing each other.
“Get, Get” (in Azeri means go away),
“Stop, or I will slaughter you tonight, both of you!” (now I switch to English, hoping they will stop)
No response, they are still fighting
So I go to my room, take my camera and photo this historical moment. I guess the flash scares them for a second, they stop and then they are back at each other again. I really do not want to see any more of this fight, so I get a stick and walk into the shed. My present scares other chickens; they are flying, screaming and running everywhere. However, these two trouble makers ignore me entirely and go on their up and down head motion. Finally, I give up and go back to my room.
Later I show my host mother the pictures and tell her to make these two bad boys our next dinner meals.
“Yox, Chi, yurmutar yoxdur” Ana disagreed, She said “ If we kill them, the hen will have no eggs!” Oh boy!
Updated news: the loser did die. My host mother found its corpse next day. so sad... Why they had to fight? Why couldn't they just live in Peace with each other? I don't like a lot of people, but I never thought of killing them??? I donot understand it....
Friday, March 12, 2010
My Life in Azerbaijan - Am I Happy Here
March 12, 2010
Steve left a comment on my blog
“You have the saddest Peace Corps blog I have ever read. Not to take away from your problems, but your complaints are also kind of funny. I am sorry you are having difficulty with your service. I hope things take a big turn for the better soon!”
Steve, you have a few typos, I corrected them for you :)
Sounds like I am not happy here. Well, let me say this: I have chosen to live this life. Similar to all my previous adventures and mountain climbing, they were hard during the process, but at the end, I treasure those moments. Times that I suffered, I understand myself more, appreciate things better, broaden my horizon further and open up my eyes and soul wider. I do not want to be that little frog sitting at the bottom of the well, only seeing a small section of the sky. All my life, I have dreamed about being a little wild flower blooming at the top of the cliff, watching sunset, sundown everyday, caressing by wind and warm sun every spring and tormenting by snow and cold temperature every winter. When this little flower dies, she has no regret; she has lived the life she wanted. She has seemed things that are less ordinary, experienced things that matter to her. When she reports to God someday, she can tell God, "I have lived my life, not just surviving, but LIVED!"
Gandhi once said that “To live is to travel, to travel is to live, to travel is to see the difference in your life”
If I did not experience the harsh life here in Azerbaijan, I would never know how good my life was in New York. Peace Corps experience is a new chapter of my life. I treasure it while I am suffering from it. I hope you understand. Steve, don’t worry about me, I am a tough cocky. Weight 101 lbs, 5 feet talk and speak English with a Chinese accent. I am a true survivor! (as a matter of fact, I always want to sign up with that TV show, except I do not know how to swim!) When I am ready to leave this country, I will miss all the things I complained about. I will miss my Azeri friends, my host mother, my host sisters, the little kids and even those boys who gave me the hard time.
My blog is a place where I can let out my feeling. The writings are the reflection of my daily mood, feeling, thoughts, happiness and sadness. Overall it is about my life in a foreign land. I need this blog to comfort me, no matter how my writings sound to the public. Peace Corps warned us (PCVs) many times to be careful what we write in our blog, we can risk being kicked out by Peace Corps if we write something bad about the country and its people. I will take this risk. After all, things that I wrote in my blog are fact, not fiction, they are nothing but the TRUTH! Düşdür? (understand?)
Steve left a comment on my blog
“You have the saddest Peace Corps blog I have ever read. Not to take away from your problems, but your complaints are also kind of funny. I am sorry you are having difficulty with your service. I hope things take a big turn for the better soon!”
Steve, you have a few typos, I corrected them for you :)
Sounds like I am not happy here. Well, let me say this: I have chosen to live this life. Similar to all my previous adventures and mountain climbing, they were hard during the process, but at the end, I treasure those moments. Times that I suffered, I understand myself more, appreciate things better, broaden my horizon further and open up my eyes and soul wider. I do not want to be that little frog sitting at the bottom of the well, only seeing a small section of the sky. All my life, I have dreamed about being a little wild flower blooming at the top of the cliff, watching sunset, sundown everyday, caressing by wind and warm sun every spring and tormenting by snow and cold temperature every winter. When this little flower dies, she has no regret; she has lived the life she wanted. She has seemed things that are less ordinary, experienced things that matter to her. When she reports to God someday, she can tell God, "I have lived my life, not just surviving, but LIVED!"
Gandhi once said that “To live is to travel, to travel is to live, to travel is to see the difference in your life”
If I did not experience the harsh life here in Azerbaijan, I would never know how good my life was in New York. Peace Corps experience is a new chapter of my life. I treasure it while I am suffering from it. I hope you understand. Steve, don’t worry about me, I am a tough cocky. Weight 101 lbs, 5 feet talk and speak English with a Chinese accent. I am a true survivor! (as a matter of fact, I always want to sign up with that TV show, except I do not know how to swim!) When I am ready to leave this country, I will miss all the things I complained about. I will miss my Azeri friends, my host mother, my host sisters, the little kids and even those boys who gave me the hard time.
My blog is a place where I can let out my feeling. The writings are the reflection of my daily mood, feeling, thoughts, happiness and sadness. Overall it is about my life in a foreign land. I need this blog to comfort me, no matter how my writings sound to the public. Peace Corps warned us (PCVs) many times to be careful what we write in our blog, we can risk being kicked out by Peace Corps if we write something bad about the country and its people. I will take this risk. After all, things that I wrote in my blog are fact, not fiction, they are nothing but the TRUTH! Düşdür? (understand?)
Thursday, March 11, 2010
My Life in Azerbaijan - Hunting for an Apartment
March 10, 2010
I am excited that finally I am moving out and living on my own next month. No more washing dishes everyday, no more mapping the floor, no more cutting vegetables, no more hanging laundries for the family and no more orders from ana (host mother). Washing, cleaning and helping out around the house actually did not bother me that much, it was the greasy foods, constantly being watched and lacked of privacy that distressed me the most. For the past six months, I could neither be myself nor could I completely relax. To be flexible is the key to survive in Peace Corps, I accepted the challenge and lived through those difficult periods and now it is time to move on.
Past couple weeks, my co-worker from the bank have been helping me to search for an apartment. He warned me that it would be impossible to find any thing with 100 AZN and he is right. The three apartments that we s
aw last week are all above 250 AZN per month. Things that upset me the most are the conditions of the apartment. Either the Azeri people do not care much about their bathroom or they are the lazier people on earth. The bathroom in each apartment is just horrible: all the pipes are leaking badly, the toilet bowl is broken, water is not running or keeps running, the bathtub has yellow stinks everywhere and the wall are crumbling due to the constant moisture of the room. The floor is wet and dirty and no one seems to care. Then it is the kitchen, dirty dishes are everywhere, but the apartment has been empty for months. Dirty cloths are hanging on the heater, on the floor and on the bed….I felt sick after seeing three of them and I could not see any more.
Yesterday, a broker told me that there was a very nice apartment near the bank where I work. He promised me that I would love it and it was not cheap, 350 AZN a month! (how can I afford it with only 226 AZN allowance from Peace Corps) but I went with him anyway and indeed the living room, kitchen, bed room are very nice, completely renovated but as soon as I saw the bathroom, I just felt sad again….
I am not looking for luxury, just a decent 1-bedroom apartment. I can clean, bleach and scrub all the stinks, but I do not know how to fix the leaks, the broken toilet bowl, the smelly sink and I definitely do not know how to stop the toilet water from running. In New York, I have my super to take care all of that, here I have no one. The owner is not going to fix it, Peace Corps will not get involved and I have no one to turn to. “For 250 AZN a month, this is what you get! Unless you can pay more” I will keep looking, just keep looking…..
I am excited that finally I am moving out and living on my own next month. No more washing dishes everyday, no more mapping the floor, no more cutting vegetables, no more hanging laundries for the family and no more orders from ana (host mother). Washing, cleaning and helping out around the house actually did not bother me that much, it was the greasy foods, constantly being watched and lacked of privacy that distressed me the most. For the past six months, I could neither be myself nor could I completely relax. To be flexible is the key to survive in Peace Corps, I accepted the challenge and lived through those difficult periods and now it is time to move on.
Past couple weeks, my co-worker from the bank have been helping me to search for an apartment. He warned me that it would be impossible to find any thing with 100 AZN and he is right. The three apartments that we s
aw last week are all above 250 AZN per month. Things that upset me the most are the conditions of the apartment. Either the Azeri people do not care much about their bathroom or they are the lazier people on earth. The bathroom in each apartment is just horrible: all the pipes are leaking badly, the toilet bowl is broken, water is not running or keeps running, the bathtub has yellow stinks everywhere and the wall are crumbling due to the constant moisture of the room. The floor is wet and dirty and no one seems to care. Then it is the kitchen, dirty dishes are everywhere, but the apartment has been empty for months. Dirty cloths are hanging on the heater, on the floor and on the bed….I felt sick after seeing three of them and I could not see any more.Yesterday, a broker told me that there was a very nice apartment near the bank where I work. He promised me that I would love it and it was not cheap, 350 AZN a month! (how can I afford it with only 226 AZN allowance from Peace Corps) but I went with him anyway and indeed the living room, kitchen, bed room are very nice, completely renovated but as soon as I saw the bathroom, I just felt sad again….
I am not looking for luxury, just a decent 1-bedroom apartment. I can clean, bleach and scrub all the stinks, but I do not know how to fix the leaks, the broken toilet bowl, the smelly sink and I definitely do not know how to stop the toilet water from running. In New York, I have my super to take care all of that, here I have no one. The owner is not going to fix it, Peace Corps will not get involved and I have no one to turn to. “For 250 AZN a month, this is what you get! Unless you can pay more” I will keep looking, just keep looking…..
Monday, March 08, 2010
My Life in Azerbaijan - Being Stared at
March 3, 2010
Every day when I walk home, I receive constant attention. The young, the old, the male, the female, the store keeper, the street vendor, the house wife, the husband, the family, the school kids, the bus driver, the taxis driver, the police….everyone simply stare at me. I usually just ignore their intensive look, but sometimes, when I had a bad mood, their stares really drove me crazy.
Today, I am tired and do not want to encounter another similar situation. I decide to take a long walk along the Caspian Sea shore to avoid the crowd in town, but when I cross the highway, a car slows down, approaches me and stops next to me. The driver rolls down the window and begin speaking to me. “Leehow, kwooleung” It takes me a few seconds to finally understand what he just said. He said “How are you, young lady” in Chinese. I really do not know whether I should laugh or cry.
I realize that most of the stares came out of curiosity. Except in Baku, nearly all the cities, towns and villages do not receive many foreigners. Therefore, when they spot a foreigner on the street, they just look. Little kids usually look at me with a shy smile. School children greet me with a “hello” in English and if I talk back to them in English, they will follow me all the way home. House wives usually gaze me with coldness, elder men and women by and large approach me with the most respectful manner. They look at me but look away immediately when I look back, some educated ones would nod and say “salam”. It is the male who is between 15-25 gives me the most grief.
More often than not, when they spotted me from a distance, their eyes began to follow me. After I passed them, they turned around and continued to look, and then they started talking about me, some making fun of me, some even following me. A few times, I stared back and called them names, (like jerk, pig etc) which made them laugh even more. One time, three young men approached me on a narrow street. They did not step aside to let me pass. One of them purposely hit me with his shoulder. Luckily, an elder man saw what happen and he gave those young men a dirty look.
I hated those boys. I think I am entitled to use the word “hate”. At least it makes me feel good to say that…. I HATE THEM!
Every day when I walk home, I receive constant attention. The young, the old, the male, the female, the store keeper, the street vendor, the house wife, the husband, the family, the school kids, the bus driver, the taxis driver, the police….everyone simply stare at me. I usually just ignore their intensive look, but sometimes, when I had a bad mood, their stares really drove me crazy.
Today, I am tired and do not want to encounter another similar situation. I decide to take a long walk along the Caspian Sea shore to avoid the crowd in town, but when I cross the highway, a car slows down, approaches me and stops next to me. The driver rolls down the window and begin speaking to me. “Leehow, kwooleung” It takes me a few seconds to finally understand what he just said. He said “How are you, young lady” in Chinese. I really do not know whether I should laugh or cry.
I realize that most of the stares came out of curiosity. Except in Baku, nearly all the cities, towns and villages do not receive many foreigners. Therefore, when they spot a foreigner on the street, they just look. Little kids usually look at me with a shy smile. School children greet me with a “hello” in English and if I talk back to them in English, they will follow me all the way home. House wives usually gaze me with coldness, elder men and women by and large approach me with the most respectful manner. They look at me but look away immediately when I look back, some educated ones would nod and say “salam”. It is the male who is between 15-25 gives me the most grief.
More often than not, when they spotted me from a distance, their eyes began to follow me. After I passed them, they turned around and continued to look, and then they started talking about me, some making fun of me, some even following me. A few times, I stared back and called them names, (like jerk, pig etc) which made them laugh even more. One time, three young men approached me on a narrow street. They did not step aside to let me pass. One of them purposely hit me with his shoulder. Luckily, an elder man saw what happen and he gave those young men a dirty look.
I hated those boys. I think I am entitled to use the word “hate”. At least it makes me feel good to say that…. I HATE THEM!
My Life in Azerbaijan - Simple Life
February 21, 2010
One of the reasons that I join Peace Corps is that I was longing for a “Simple Life”. I like the idea that I just get up in the morning and do not have to worry about deadline, meeting, conference, quarterly financial results or budget vs. actual variance. I hated my working years in the Wall Street where I confronted with cruel and senseless faces, where making money was the only thing in everyone’s mind and where finding true friendship was difficult. There were many late nights in the office when I looked outside the window; all I wished for was to be outside counting the stars.
For the past ten years, I have traveled to many remote places. The foothill of Himalayas, the jungle of Venezuela, the ruins of Peru, the roof of Africa and the desert of Sahara, where I saw life that is free of material things, life that entirely depends on what God provides, life that is surrounded by love and life that is simple but full of joy. Those images have haunted me for a long time. Today in Azerbaijan, I finally understand there is no such thing called “Simple Life”.
Perhaps I was a bit naive believing that there is such a thing called “Simple Life”. Since the dawn of mankind, Life has never been “Simple”…..
One of the reasons that I join Peace Corps is that I was longing for a “Simple Life”. I like the idea that I just get up in the morning and do not have to worry about deadline, meeting, conference, quarterly financial results or budget vs. actual variance. I hated my working years in the Wall Street where I confronted with cruel and senseless faces, where making money was the only thing in everyone’s mind and where finding true friendship was difficult. There were many late nights in the office when I looked outside the window; all I wished for was to be outside counting the stars.
For the past ten years, I have traveled to many remote places. The foothill of Himalayas, the jungle of Venezuela, the ruins of Peru, the roof of Africa and the desert of Sahara, where I saw life that is free of material things, life that entirely depends on what God provides, life that is surrounded by love and life that is simple but full of joy. Those images have haunted me for a long time. Today in Azerbaijan, I finally understand there is no such thing called “Simple Life”.
Perhaps I was a bit naive believing that there is such a thing called “Simple Life”. Since the dawn of mankind, Life has never been “Simple”…..
Tuesday, March 02, 2010
My Life in Azerbaijan - Medical Care & Other Benefits from Peace Corps
February 25, 2010
So far I have been sick a few times, nothing serious just common cold, flu, stomach problem, body injury and last week, problem with my right eyes.
Last week, I saw “flying objects” in my right eyes. The symptom is called “PVD” and my left eye has the same problem for several years. My eye doctor in the US warned me about my right eye. He said that the same symptom would appear sooner or later in my right eye, so here it, in Azerbaijan!
I was not too concern about the symptom, it does not bother me much, and after a few months, I know my brain will ignore the objects and so long it does not affect my vision and if I do not see black shadow, I will be fine. It happens to lots of people, especially those with bad near-sighted. Nevertheless, I called Peace Corps doctor, just to keep my medical record updated. Immediately, Peace Corps doctor wanted me to go to Baku and had an eye examination. They arranged an appointment with the hospital in Baku and had a Peace Corps driver and a medical assistant to accompany me to the hospital. If something seriously goes wrong with my eye, they will fly me to Thailand for a surgery within 72 hours. I was impressed with Peace Corps medical service.
PCV receives only marginal living allowances; however, our other benefits are quite good. Our medical care is 100% taken care of, if we travel to Baku, we receive reimbursements for the travel. If anything happens back home in the States, Peace Corps will put us on the plane and allow us to stay home for 2 weeks. If for any reason, we are not happy here, Peace Corps will fly us back to the US and no hard feeling either, and if we ever get in trouble with the locals in Azerbaijan, we have the US embassy to back us up. If there is war breakout, all PCVs will be evacuated within 24 hours to nearby countries. After two years service, we can apply for any Federal job and so long the minimum requirements are met, we do not have to compete with other applicants.
There are pros and cons being a PCV, there are bad and good moments during the 2 years with Peace Corps. One thing that keeps me going is: Don’t lose sight of why I am here.
So far I have been sick a few times, nothing serious just common cold, flu, stomach problem, body injury and last week, problem with my right eyes.
Last week, I saw “flying objects” in my right eyes. The symptom is called “PVD” and my left eye has the same problem for several years. My eye doctor in the US warned me about my right eye. He said that the same symptom would appear sooner or later in my right eye, so here it, in Azerbaijan!
I was not too concern about the symptom, it does not bother me much, and after a few months, I know my brain will ignore the objects and so long it does not affect my vision and if I do not see black shadow, I will be fine. It happens to lots of people, especially those with bad near-sighted. Nevertheless, I called Peace Corps doctor, just to keep my medical record updated. Immediately, Peace Corps doctor wanted me to go to Baku and had an eye examination. They arranged an appointment with the hospital in Baku and had a Peace Corps driver and a medical assistant to accompany me to the hospital. If something seriously goes wrong with my eye, they will fly me to Thailand for a surgery within 72 hours. I was impressed with Peace Corps medical service.
PCV receives only marginal living allowances; however, our other benefits are quite good. Our medical care is 100% taken care of, if we travel to Baku, we receive reimbursements for the travel. If anything happens back home in the States, Peace Corps will put us on the plane and allow us to stay home for 2 weeks. If for any reason, we are not happy here, Peace Corps will fly us back to the US and no hard feeling either, and if we ever get in trouble with the locals in Azerbaijan, we have the US embassy to back us up. If there is war breakout, all PCVs will be evacuated within 24 hours to nearby countries. After two years service, we can apply for any Federal job and so long the minimum requirements are met, we do not have to compete with other applicants.
There are pros and cons being a PCV, there are bad and good moments during the 2 years with Peace Corps. One thing that keeps me going is: Don’t lose sight of why I am here.
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