Egypt

So, there we were, laying under a huge umbrella in Sharm el-Shiek, Egypt, a Cancun-type beach resort on the Red Sea popular with Russian tourist, when I came up with the brilliant idea for us to both get desperately needed haircuts. In Baku, Kyle had visited a barber a couple of times and always came back with the same result - a shaved head. This was enough to convince me that my Russian speaking skills were not adequate enough to communicate with an Azeri hair stylist. Five months in Baku and my hair was a stringy mess.

"What could possibly go wrong?" I asked. "The Egyptians speak English. We can tell them what type of haircuts we want." My first sign that something was awry should have been when the lady kept telling me that my hair was "too tall." Needless to say, our haircuts were a long way from perfection. At least mine was doable, but it was Kyle's that was bad news. He thought it resembled a certain North Korean dictator.

(Kyle's new haircut)

My next great brainchild was for us to leave our resort for a little adventure. We signed up for a 4-wheeler/camel ride tour of the desert. It had been explained to us that we would meet up with a group of tourists and ride out into the desert on 4-wheelers. We would all stop and have tea with bedouins and then ride camels back to camp. And as these things seem to always go, actual events somewhat differed.

Arriving at the assembly point, we were given lightweight scarfs to protect our noses, ears and mouths from the relentlessly blowing sand. The guides helped us out by wrapping our heads "Osama Bin Laden" style, as one guy explained to us. As we waited for the tour to begin, the guides asked each couple where they were from. This is the tricky part of any trip outside of Western countries:
1. Assess the situation.
2. Are there any real or imagined threats that might endanger my life?
3. Should I tell them that I am Canadian?
4. If I commit to #3, can I remember to say "Eh" for the rest of the trip? (as in "I'm from Canada, eh.")

As the preceding couples announced that they were from Lithuania, Poland, India and Lebanon, I hedged my bets and decided I could truthfully say the USA. No one cared, except for the rather imposing looking tour guide. We set out on the 4-wheelers into the desert surrounding the Sinai Mountains. It was littered with water bottles and the sand resembled gravel more than a fine powder that I had expected. 30 minutes later, we stopped for a break, the "tea with bedouins" that we had been promised. Turned out that the bedouins were just trying to sell bottled soda and their children were thrusting jewelry into our faces. "You want?" they'd say over and over to each tourist.

(Brooke & Kyle with "Osama Bin Laden" head wraps)


(Kyle on 4-wheeler)

Another half hour on the bikes and we were back at camp. It was time for the big camel ride part of the show. We met up with the camel herd (is that the right word?) and their handlers - a father in traditional bedouin dress and his 5 workers - er children. The camels kneeled as we clamored on top and then each camel was persuaded to stand up by its handler. In Kyle's case, his camel was urged on by a 5 year-old boy without shoes. My guide wasn't much older, probably 9 years old, but at least he had sandals. We walked a straight line 15 minutes out into the desert and then the boys abruptly decided to turn around and we walked the exact same path back. The whole "adventure" reminded me of those pony rides at carnivals, where the animals are tethered to a carousel and they just walk endlessly in a circle. Not exactly a thrilling time. I spent the whole ride fretting about the child labor exploitation.

(Camel herd)


(Kyle's young camel guide)


(Brooke & Lithuanian couple on camels)

So, later, back on the beach, I decided that I would not propose anymore suggestions. The beach was daring enough for me. A pina colada and a bit of sunblock - I was set. I loved this Egypt.

(Pool area at Savoy Resort)


(Sharm el-Sheik, Egypt)

Field Trip

Saturday was a perfect fall day in Baku. We opted for a day outside of the city. I desperately needed to see open land, smell fresh air and hear silence, or I might have gone crossed-eye. We set out mid-morning, with Hikmet at the helm and the dogs in the back of the SUV. An hour and a half later, we arrived at Gobustan, a small village known for pre-historic cave drawings and mud volcanoes.


(Sign, welcoming us to Gobustan)



(First sights in Gobustan: cow wandering the streets)



(Kyle and Bailey at the Gobustan cave drawings)



(Pre-historic caving drawings, a UNESCO World Heritage Site)



(The Massies, Kyle, Brooke, Zoey, Bailey, atop a lookout point at the Gobustan cave drawings)



(Sign in parking lot at cave drawings site: no grills, no cigarettes, no hookah pipes, no alcohol)



(Leaving cave drawings, driving toward mud volcanoes, shepherd with his flock)



(Mud volcano)



(Brooke at mud volcanoes)



(Another planet: mud volcanoes)



(Bailey and Zoey after enjoying the mud volcanoes - notice the mud-covered paws)



(Oil seeps from the ground near mud volcanoes; that's how much oil there is in Azerbaijan!)

Usual Suspects

When you are living in a country where your native tongue is not the dominant language, you make fast friends with anyone you can communicate with. Such is the case with many of the people who work with Kyle. We routinely have drinks and dinner with the "rotators," men who work in the Caspian for 28 days and then rotate back to their home countries for 28 days. These guys are usually middle-aged, married with children, and working offshore is a great way to make good money.

So, as we regularly do on a Friday, we begin the evening meeting up with Chris, not a rotator. He's a British citizen, having grown up in Rhodesia (now called Zimbawe) with permanent residence and a fiance in South Africa. Not much older than us, he served in the British army before joining the oil field biz. We then spot Graeme, a 50-something rotator, who is from northern England, but has residence, a wife and several rescued dogs in Orlando, Florida.

Our little group grows larger with Rod, a Canadian who lives with his children in Perth, Australia. And then Scott, appropriately enough from Scotland, where his wife and children still live. He also served in the military before working for the company in Dubai and now rotates. Also with us is Eric, born in Canada, raised in The Netherlands, residence and a wife in South Africa. Quite the eclectic bunch. And as I usually think in these situations, you just never know about people. What has happened in their lives up to this point. What they have experienced to bring them to Azerbaijan.

I love questioning these guys about the nuances of their lives. The Australians do not like Halloween, "It's too American," I was told. Or, "My wife refuses to travel with me. She never wants to leave South Africa." Scott's kids in Scotland have to wear bicycle helmets, it's the law. And Graeme's wife in Orlando thinks that she gets too much sun and it's making her skin age prematurely. Chris spends his vacation back in South Africa, going on unofficial safaris in his Land Rover.

It's such a big world, made a little smaller with each story. I soak up every detail.

My New Friend

My efforts to show the Azeris that dogs can be good pets has produced exactly one convert. His name is Baruse (I think that's what he said). He works in the police impound yard next to our apartment. From what I can tell, his job is to open the gate to allow tow trucks to enter or exit. He is young, not even 20 years old and always has a big, innocent grin on his boyish face. The dogs and I have to pass by the car lot every day to take our walks. He has candidly watched us parade by for months now and recently he started shouting, "Salam!" (hello!) and waving in big gestures to us. Cautiously, I usually respond with a half smile and a simple head nod....until a few weeks ago.

Zoey, Bailey and I were within view of our apartment. We had trekked the 2 miles there and back from the Bulvar and we were all a little tuckered out. Like horses headed to the barn, our pace unintentionally quicken when we rounded the corner and could spot our building still several blocks away. My mind was shifting through thoughts of, "how much exhaust fumes am I inhaling right now?" and "what is this air quality doing to my skin?" When I heard the familiar, "Salam!" and turned to see our friend walking right next to us. Without the smile ever faltering, he reached out to take Bailey's leash. I was absolutely astounded. He wanted to walk with us and not just that, he wanted to walk Bailey!

We strolled the several blocks back in silence. The language barrier is such a hindrance in these odd situations, but as we approached the apartment the few workmen outside started smiling at the spectacle: the American woman with the little brown dog and the young Azeri man with the fat black dog, it's not a combination you see very often in Baku. At the security entrance, Baruse relinquished the leash and headed to his job next door. I smiled the entire elevator ride up to the apartment.

And then again today, the exact scenario played out: bumping into Baruse on the street, him walking Bailey to the apartment, me silently thinking, "what a sight we are!" I think we've made a friend or hopefully at least broken the mold.

Baku Pictorial

(Kyle at Maiden's Tower)
Probably the most popular destination in Baku, and maybe all of Azerbaijan, is Maiden's Tower in the Old City. It is a UNESCO World Heritage Site and one of Azerbaijan's most recognizable national emblems. Maiden's Tower dates to the 12th century when it was situated right off of Baku Bay. It is believed to have been a watch tower or for those that relish in romance, the legend says that a maiden threw herself from the top, drowning in the waves below.



(Cats perch on carpets and authentic pottery in the Old City)
Once inside the Old City, visitors can purchase "Oriental" rugs and other artifacts. In order to leave Azerbaijan with such items, you must have an original certificate from the rug dealer.



(Old meets new in this view from atop Old City wall, looking at new apartment high rises under construction)


(Notice the man standing precariously at the top of the tree. He was using a stick to beat/shake down olives from this tree inside the Old City)



(View of Azerbaijan flag from atop of the Funikulyor)
Baku recently hoisted the national flag on the world's largest flag pole, as designated by the Guiness Book of World Records.



(View of the Bulvar and smaller Azeri flag from atop of the Funikulyor)
Notice the city scape beyond the Bulvar. Baku is approximately 4 million people.



(Mosque at the top of the Funikulyor)



(Large poster of former Azeri President Heydar Aliyev)
President Aliyev served from 1993-2003. Billboards featuring the past president are seen throughout Baku.


(Pimped out Lada. Notice the painted on white walls.)

Humble Pie

So, the dogs and I are walking along the railroad tracks next to our apartment in Baku. It might sound a little ghetto, and well, it kind of is, but it's a main pedestrian thoroughfare for all sorts of people. We usually see kids walking to school, women in skirts heading to work and men is suit jackets talking on their cell phones. A high point is that it is void of cars, so we get to meander without fear of being roadkill.

Bailey had just found a discarded bone and was pulling on her leash to get to it, when I noticed a young couple, maybe 17 years old, heading in our general direction. The boy hesitantly approached us and held out a camera, gesturing to me. I immediately copped an attitude. I am so sick and tired of being the tourist attraction! Yes, I have dogs and yes, I am wearing boot cut jeans and a hoody and yes, I look completely out of place! "No you cannot take a picture of us!" I said. The boy looked at his female companion for help and again held out the camera to me. I was really on my high horse now. Knowing that they did not speak English, I just said, "No! No! No!"

The boy offered a pleasant smile and kind of tossed the camera at me. I caught the camera as he joined his friend a few feet away. The were posing side by side....wanting me to take a picture OF them. My faced turned red, but was thankfully partially hidden by the camera as I snapped a quick picture of the smiling couple, linked arm in arm.

The boy took his camera back, thanked me in Russian and strolled away. I chuckled to myself and felt extremely sheepish. It's not always about me.
(Railroad tracks. That is NOT our apartment building.)