I feel like I pick on Baku too much. Sure, it's a tough place to live, with the fake milk and crazy drivers and pollution and inconsiderate locals and.....see, there I go again. A few good experiences have happened to me recently and it's enough to (almost) cancel out the negativity.
Back when temperatures were in the 90s and I was without a driver, I set out on a walking adventure through the city. I wandered aimlessly, taking pictures, shopping for a new summer dress and finally perused a local market, settling on some non-too-exciting bananas. I was heading in the general direction of home when the sweat rolling down my backside became too much to bear. I needed something cold to drink, stat. I entered the first cafe featuring a Wi-Fi sticker on the window and plopped down into a vinyl booth. The place had only a few patrons and the waiter approached and systematically offered me a Fanta (preferred soda of Azeris). I gladly accepted and then had him punch the Wi-Fi code into my I-phone. I let the sweat dry and enjoyed my orange drink, sitting with no particular purpose for at least 45 minutes. As I went to pay, the waiter refused my money. The drink was complimentary, he indicated. He gave me a big smile and said, "Free!" I returned the smile, thanked him repeatedly and left a good tip.
I will be making my grand appearance on Al-Jazeera television soon. The caption will read, "Uncovered woman has dogs on rope and picks up their poop." It was mid-afternoon and the dogs and I were enjoying the warm weather along the Bulvar. We were minding our own business, strolling through the grassy areas, when a Muslim family starting pointing at us. The mom was completely covered, the dad was videotaping and their two young boys were smiling in disbelief. They slowly approached, partially fearful, partially excited at the chance to experience such a spectacle. The children wanted to pet the dogs, but they were acting so erratic that they sent Zoey into a tizzy. The dad kept filming us as the boys touched each dog and then hurried back to their mom's protective cloak. This played out several times over the next few minutes. Pet, laugh, run back to mom, repeat. Kyle is of the opinion that the encounter is already posted on youtube. However, I stick by my first thoughts of that day: that this was my chance to show other cultures that dogs are not vicious creatures, but a cherished part of the family.
After a trip to the farmer's market, Kyle and I discussed pomegranates on the ride back to the apartment. We had noticed that the fruit is very popular in Turkey and just as common here in Baku. We joked that we'd love to try them, but have no idea how exactly one is supposed to eat it. The conversation was interrupted as we told our driver, Hikmet, good-bye. A few weeks later, as Hikmet was helping me to unload my groceries from the car, he handed me a large bag of pomegranates, "for the testing," he said. He had recalled our fascination with the fruit and bought a bag of them for us to try.
See, it's not all bad.
Friday, October 29, 2010
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Dubai Part Deux
My parents have been married for 34 years and I grew up in an affectionate household. I remember attending a family friend's wedding in junior high. At the reception, names were "randomly" selected to show the newlyweds how to do certain things. My parents' names were called to show the couple how to kiss. Right there in front of God and all of the guests, my parents kissed, I mean REALLY kissed. I was mortified. It was all in fun and everyone cheered and applauded. I wanted to crawl underneath the table.
I've grown up a bit and with almost 8 years of marriage under my belt, I can bare small amounts of PDA without turning bright red. It's very common for me to unconsciously reach out to hold Kyle's hand or give him a kiss on the cheek. Arms around the waist are nice too. These seemingly benign actions can cause quite a stir in Dubai. We had been forewarned that any touching between males and females is strongly discouraged. We have close friends who after a long day of shopping, leaned in to each other for a quick peck. A man approached them and said that they could be arrested for such behavior. They separated and apologized. The fear of witnessing any unsightly acts has prompted the malls to post signs asking for modest dress and behavior, although we have spotted a few non-conformists.
We have visited Dubai twice now, but still all of this makes me a little nervous. I was terrified that I would unknowingly engage in bad behavior. Just as my fingers interlaced with Kyle's, I would jerk my hand away like a hot potato. Or as we sat down for a nice dinner, we pulled our chairs closer together and then realized the error of our ways. Some of our actions come so natural now, that we wouldn't even know that we were committing minor grievances. Kyle feeding me a bite of his ice cream or me fixing the collar of his shirt suddenly became, "I hope no one saw that..."
Maybe I'm just paranoid outside of my comfort zone, but my advice: always leave room for the Holy Spirit and you will stay out of trouble in Dubai.
I've grown up a bit and with almost 8 years of marriage under my belt, I can bare small amounts of PDA without turning bright red. It's very common for me to unconsciously reach out to hold Kyle's hand or give him a kiss on the cheek. Arms around the waist are nice too. These seemingly benign actions can cause quite a stir in Dubai. We had been forewarned that any touching between males and females is strongly discouraged. We have close friends who after a long day of shopping, leaned in to each other for a quick peck. A man approached them and said that they could be arrested for such behavior. They separated and apologized. The fear of witnessing any unsightly acts has prompted the malls to post signs asking for modest dress and behavior, although we have spotted a few non-conformists.
We have visited Dubai twice now, but still all of this makes me a little nervous. I was terrified that I would unknowingly engage in bad behavior. Just as my fingers interlaced with Kyle's, I would jerk my hand away like a hot potato. Or as we sat down for a nice dinner, we pulled our chairs closer together and then realized the error of our ways. Some of our actions come so natural now, that we wouldn't even know that we were committing minor grievances. Kyle feeding me a bite of his ice cream or me fixing the collar of his shirt suddenly became, "I hope no one saw that..."
Maybe I'm just paranoid outside of my comfort zone, but my advice: always leave room for the Holy Spirit and you will stay out of trouble in Dubai.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Things I have Learned
While living outside of the USA, I've gathered a few tidbits of information:
1. When someone asks me where I am from, it is improper to say "America" because people from South America are also Americans. I am supposed to respond United States or in ex-pat lingo, "the states."
2. You should never refer to someone from the United Kingdom as English. Only people born in England are English. People from Scotland, Northern Ireland and Wales will grit their teeth if you refer to them as English. They are British.
3. When pronounced, my name is very similar to the Russian word for pants.
4. Chatting with a few locals in both Kazakhstan and Azerbaijan, I was surprised to find out that not everyone dislikes the Soviets, as we are led to believe in the West. Under the Soviets, everyone who wanted a job was given one, education was a priority and most people felt generally safe. The yearning for the opportunity to work and learn is universal.
5. Even though Azerbaijan has been ranked as one of the least religious countries in the world, the locals still view dogs as unclean and pork products are extremely rare.
6. The US Embassy in Baku is staffed with Russians.
7. PB & J is as foreign as GMC.
8. Survival of the Fittest is an every day occurrence. Just walking to school, a child can be lost in an uncovered manhole, struck by a Lada or hit by construction equipment.
9. The mustache is alive and well in Baku.
10. McDonald's hamburgers and fries taste the same, but Diet Coke does not.
1. When someone asks me where I am from, it is improper to say "America" because people from South America are also Americans. I am supposed to respond United States or in ex-pat lingo, "the states."
2. You should never refer to someone from the United Kingdom as English. Only people born in England are English. People from Scotland, Northern Ireland and Wales will grit their teeth if you refer to them as English. They are British.
3. When pronounced, my name is very similar to the Russian word for pants.
4. Chatting with a few locals in both Kazakhstan and Azerbaijan, I was surprised to find out that not everyone dislikes the Soviets, as we are led to believe in the West. Under the Soviets, everyone who wanted a job was given one, education was a priority and most people felt generally safe. The yearning for the opportunity to work and learn is universal.
5. Even though Azerbaijan has been ranked as one of the least religious countries in the world, the locals still view dogs as unclean and pork products are extremely rare.
6. The US Embassy in Baku is staffed with Russians.
7. PB & J is as foreign as GMC.
8. Survival of the Fittest is an every day occurrence. Just walking to school, a child can be lost in an uncovered manhole, struck by a Lada or hit by construction equipment.
9. The mustache is alive and well in Baku.
10. McDonald's hamburgers and fries taste the same, but Diet Coke does not.
Monday, October 18, 2010
Irk
Azerbaijan has been an independent country for only 20 years. They were previously ruled by the heavy Russian iron fist and the Soviets left their undeniable mark on the native people and resources. I look at the locals and their infantile, yet respectable infrastructure and think, "They've come so far." Then, I also mentally put a "but..." at the end of the sentence. As an American, I have had the benefit of a country that is 200+ years in the making. I'm going to overlook all of the major problems Baku faces right now and instead dwell on a couple of insignificant items.
When Kyle visited Moscow a couple of years ago, he was told by a local to never stand in a line, unless you know exactly what you are waiting for. After the collapse of the USSR, long lines formed for everything from bread to clothes. Some people waited for not nearly hours, but days to obtain their necessities. As a result, many Russians will still to this day, see a line and assume that people must be waiting for something really important, so they will join the queue, not even knowing what they are waiting for. So, it comes as a surprise that the Azeris, once so heavily influenced by the Russians, would have absolutely no idea or desire to form lines. The bad habit is particularly maddening at places such as McDonalds and passport check at the airport. People just gather, a floating amoeba, everyone jockeying for the front. No distinct lines anywhere. Maybe it's a left-over notion that whatever it is that they are waiting for will run out, but for Westerners, it means running out of patience.
As my sister-in-law Cassidy, who's a 2nd grade teacher said, "We learn lines on the first day. Line up for lunch, line up for PE, line up to catch the bus. Wait your turn." I tell myself every time I encounter a line-less scenario that I will be rude and push my way to the front. And I always get really close. And then something happens, maybe it's the elementary school training seared in my mind, but I just can't seem to to override my inherent nature to let the person who was there before me go next. I can't stop being considerate. Maybe after a few more months in Baku, I will get over it.
It is recommended that you do not drink the tap water in Baku. It's fine to bathe in, wash dishes, we give it to the dogs, but not safe for human consumption. So everyone, ex-pats and locals alike, buy large jugs of water and consume many thousands of smaller bottles of water every day. The used bottles are not recycled and even though there is an abundance of trash cans along the sidewalks, a lot of people just simply throw the bottles, gum wrappers, cigarettes, tissues, paper scraps, wherever they happen to be. It's interesting to watch the large crow-like birds or the hundreds of stray cats pick through the litter. They are quite adept at finding the remains of popcorn and crackers and scattering the leftovers. Maybe the Azeris know that the babuskas with the homemade brooms will be right there to sweep up the trash, but whatever the case, it makes for a crazy, depressing walk on windy days.
Like I mentioned, not life or death issues facing us in Baku. Just annoying habits that drive type-A people (yours truly) absolutely crazy.
When Kyle visited Moscow a couple of years ago, he was told by a local to never stand in a line, unless you know exactly what you are waiting for. After the collapse of the USSR, long lines formed for everything from bread to clothes. Some people waited for not nearly hours, but days to obtain their necessities. As a result, many Russians will still to this day, see a line and assume that people must be waiting for something really important, so they will join the queue, not even knowing what they are waiting for. So, it comes as a surprise that the Azeris, once so heavily influenced by the Russians, would have absolutely no idea or desire to form lines. The bad habit is particularly maddening at places such as McDonalds and passport check at the airport. People just gather, a floating amoeba, everyone jockeying for the front. No distinct lines anywhere. Maybe it's a left-over notion that whatever it is that they are waiting for will run out, but for Westerners, it means running out of patience.
As my sister-in-law Cassidy, who's a 2nd grade teacher said, "We learn lines on the first day. Line up for lunch, line up for PE, line up to catch the bus. Wait your turn." I tell myself every time I encounter a line-less scenario that I will be rude and push my way to the front. And I always get really close. And then something happens, maybe it's the elementary school training seared in my mind, but I just can't seem to to override my inherent nature to let the person who was there before me go next. I can't stop being considerate. Maybe after a few more months in Baku, I will get over it.
It is recommended that you do not drink the tap water in Baku. It's fine to bathe in, wash dishes, we give it to the dogs, but not safe for human consumption. So everyone, ex-pats and locals alike, buy large jugs of water and consume many thousands of smaller bottles of water every day. The used bottles are not recycled and even though there is an abundance of trash cans along the sidewalks, a lot of people just simply throw the bottles, gum wrappers, cigarettes, tissues, paper scraps, wherever they happen to be. It's interesting to watch the large crow-like birds or the hundreds of stray cats pick through the litter. They are quite adept at finding the remains of popcorn and crackers and scattering the leftovers. Maybe the Azeris know that the babuskas with the homemade brooms will be right there to sweep up the trash, but whatever the case, it makes for a crazy, depressing walk on windy days.
Like I mentioned, not life or death issues facing us in Baku. Just annoying habits that drive type-A people (yours truly) absolutely crazy.
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Like a Candle in the Wind
Autumn has always been Kyle's favorite time of year. College football, colder weather, leaves turning colors...."What's not to love about it?" he always says.
Our pumpkin carving goes back to college when I bought the cheapest pumpkin and Kyle told me that it was too decrepit to do anything good with. Or our first fall as a married couple, living with our best friend Ryan in Tulsa. Kyle carved an impressive OSU logo into a large pumpkin. It sat on Ryan's front porch halfway through November. We moved to OKC a couple of years later, and Kyle cheerfully performed uncle duties by carving pumpkins with my nieces. And so the pumpkin creations continued in Houston (they molded quickly in the humidity) and Denver (they froze under several feet of snow).
Wherever we were, we invested in mums, gourds, corn stalks, hay bales, scarecrows and many different sized pumpkins. Our displays were not the talk of the neighborhood, but they brought us an unexplainable joy. Maybe we were just nesting, but the task of decorating and carving were rewarding.
So, here we are in Azerbaijan, where autumn is just a passing of time, nothing notable about it. No decorations in school windows, no Halloween or trick-or-treating, no cutesy Target fall dinnerware sets and definitely no pumpkins.
To make up for the lack of enthusiasm in Baku, I retrieved our fall decorations from our "garage" and set about making our apartment as festive as possible. It helped to lighten our spirits, and then I took it one step too far. I lit an autumn scented candle that brought back a flood of olfactory spawned memories, "How can one Pumpkin Carnival scented Wal-mart candle make me feel so many emotions?" But, it was a bell that could not be unrung, so we spent the rest of the day searching online for "favorite fall recipes/comfort foods." With our limited ingredient availability, Kyle settled on a variation of beef stroganoff. It wasn't exactly ribs on the grill or a simmering stew, but it satisfied our need to feel fall-y.
On a day-to-day basis, we are just fine in Baku, just living as normal of life as possible. I'm positive that my autumn themed home sickness is strong simply because there is absolutely no outlet for it here. Maybe I only miss it because when you are a stranger in a strange land, you long for something familiar. Whatever the case, I'm just thankful that we're coming home for Christmas. I can't wait to enjoy pieces of Americana Christmastime. I will appreciate it now more than ever!
Our pumpkin carving goes back to college when I bought the cheapest pumpkin and Kyle told me that it was too decrepit to do anything good with. Or our first fall as a married couple, living with our best friend Ryan in Tulsa. Kyle carved an impressive OSU logo into a large pumpkin. It sat on Ryan's front porch halfway through November. We moved to OKC a couple of years later, and Kyle cheerfully performed uncle duties by carving pumpkins with my nieces. And so the pumpkin creations continued in Houston (they molded quickly in the humidity) and Denver (they froze under several feet of snow).
Wherever we were, we invested in mums, gourds, corn stalks, hay bales, scarecrows and many different sized pumpkins. Our displays were not the talk of the neighborhood, but they brought us an unexplainable joy. Maybe we were just nesting, but the task of decorating and carving were rewarding.
So, here we are in Azerbaijan, where autumn is just a passing of time, nothing notable about it. No decorations in school windows, no Halloween or trick-or-treating, no cutesy Target fall dinnerware sets and definitely no pumpkins.
To make up for the lack of enthusiasm in Baku, I retrieved our fall decorations from our "garage" and set about making our apartment as festive as possible. It helped to lighten our spirits, and then I took it one step too far. I lit an autumn scented candle that brought back a flood of olfactory spawned memories, "How can one Pumpkin Carnival scented Wal-mart candle make me feel so many emotions?" But, it was a bell that could not be unrung, so we spent the rest of the day searching online for "favorite fall recipes/comfort foods." With our limited ingredient availability, Kyle settled on a variation of beef stroganoff. It wasn't exactly ribs on the grill or a simmering stew, but it satisfied our need to feel fall-y.
On a day-to-day basis, we are just fine in Baku, just living as normal of life as possible. I'm positive that my autumn themed home sickness is strong simply because there is absolutely no outlet for it here. Maybe I only miss it because when you are a stranger in a strange land, you long for something familiar. Whatever the case, I'm just thankful that we're coming home for Christmas. I can't wait to enjoy pieces of Americana Christmastime. I will appreciate it now more than ever!
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Operation: Oktoberfest
We were asked to join three other couples in Munich, Germany for Oktoberfest. Despite what you might have heard or imagined about the beerfest, it is extremely organized fair-like event and tickets for seating inside one of the festival tents are rare, especially with 2010 being the 200 anniversary. With the promise of yummy Bavarian food, steins of beer, traditional German folk songs and fun friends, we eagerly accepted this once-in-a-lifetime invite.
Our cohorts are an American couple living near us in Baku, another American couple who live in Beijing and another couple, she's Swiss, he's Dutch. Quite the eclectic bunch, makes for good times....which explains how an otherwise sane, normal person goes from, "I'll just wear a sweater and jeans" to a dirndl - that's the traditional dress for German women. And yes, men dress up too. Their outfits are called lederhosen. Old, young, short, tall, almost everyone is dressed up to celebrate. In the middle of the day, people are riding their bikes or taking the subway, looking like they stepped out of a cheesey movie.
(The Baku Bunch: Max, Adriana, Brooke, Kyle)
Our reservations allowed us to enter the Schottenhamel tent at 6 p.m., along with 6,000 of our closest friends. The crowd is subdued for the first hour or so. Everyone is eating a variety of sausages, potato dumplings and huge pretzels.
(Kyle with gigantic pretzel & Bavarian flag)
As the food is washed down, the mouths are freed up to start singing along with the band. Most of the songs are in German, but the tent goes crazy when "West Virginia, Mountain Mama...take me home" is played. The band really ups the ante with "La Bamba" and "Sweet Home Alabama." Apparently these songs cross all international borders, because everyone is yelling out the chorus. By now, no one is left sitting. We are dancing on the wooden benches and the tables shake from the vibrations, spilling drinks and rattling the silverware. You're so close to the other patrons that your butt is always rubbing up against someone else's. By the end of the evening, which comes at 10 p.m. when the tents officially close, everyone is hugging their neighbor, arms draped over necks of strangers who are now friends. The last song is played, everyone links arms, sways back and forth and belts out lyrics to now familiar music. Camaraderie is felt all around.
(Brooke & lederhosen covered butts)
The whole event was thrilling. The excitement in the air was contagious and you couldn't help but love every minute of Oktoberfest. We had so much fun, I solemnly asked, "What do I do with my dirndl now?"......Halloween costume?
(Our tent at 10 p.m.)
Our cohorts are an American couple living near us in Baku, another American couple who live in Beijing and another couple, she's Swiss, he's Dutch. Quite the eclectic bunch, makes for good times....which explains how an otherwise sane, normal person goes from, "I'll just wear a sweater and jeans" to a dirndl - that's the traditional dress for German women. And yes, men dress up too. Their outfits are called lederhosen. Old, young, short, tall, almost everyone is dressed up to celebrate. In the middle of the day, people are riding their bikes or taking the subway, looking like they stepped out of a cheesey movie.
(The Baku Bunch: Max, Adriana, Brooke, Kyle)
Our reservations allowed us to enter the Schottenhamel tent at 6 p.m., along with 6,000 of our closest friends. The crowd is subdued for the first hour or so. Everyone is eating a variety of sausages, potato dumplings and huge pretzels.
(Kyle with gigantic pretzel & Bavarian flag)
As the food is washed down, the mouths are freed up to start singing along with the band. Most of the songs are in German, but the tent goes crazy when "West Virginia, Mountain Mama...take me home" is played. The band really ups the ante with "La Bamba" and "Sweet Home Alabama." Apparently these songs cross all international borders, because everyone is yelling out the chorus. By now, no one is left sitting. We are dancing on the wooden benches and the tables shake from the vibrations, spilling drinks and rattling the silverware. You're so close to the other patrons that your butt is always rubbing up against someone else's. By the end of the evening, which comes at 10 p.m. when the tents officially close, everyone is hugging their neighbor, arms draped over necks of strangers who are now friends. The last song is played, everyone links arms, sways back and forth and belts out lyrics to now familiar music. Camaraderie is felt all around.
(Brooke & lederhosen covered butts)
The whole event was thrilling. The excitement in the air was contagious and you couldn't help but love every minute of Oktoberfest. We had so much fun, I solemnly asked, "What do I do with my dirndl now?"......Halloween costume?
(Our tent at 10 p.m.)
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