Azerbaijan, You Will Be Missed

Bye Ilhem and Heydar, I'll miss seeing you all over the place.

Today is my last day in Khachmaz, and tomorrow I will heading to Baku for the last time.  On November 16th, only 5 days away, I'll be flying from Baku to Dallas, after successfully completing two years of Peace Corps service.  There are a lot of emotions going on right now, a bit of fear, a bit of sadness, some giddiness, and some relief.  But mostly there is an overwhelming feeling of satisfaction; the kind that only comes upon the successful accomplishment of a large and long project.

I'd like to share some things that I will especially miss in Azerbaijan.  Writing this now feels a little strange, I'm too close to Azerbaijan at this moment to truly know what it is I will recall in the coming years.  I know I'll be happy about it, but those aspects I take away from the Azerbaijani culture and the many Azerbaijanis who I've shared my 2 years with will probably change as the weeks and months go by.  But as I ready myself to depart and reflect on what has been, this is what comes to my mind now.

I will miss is the guesting experience.  Guesting is a strong tradition in Azerbaijan and the best way to experience its culture.  More than a dinner party, guesting is like a feast held in your honor.   There are multiple courses brought out and the table is overwhelmed with food.  It is rarely possible for a group of people to finish the food set before them; indeed if that was the case it would indicate that the host didn't prepare enough.  I really enjoyed going to my friends' houses knowing that I would be feasted, as if a new thanksgiving was only a phone call away.

I enjoyed the sense of community in Azerbaijan.  This cut both ways, and to an American who is used to anonymity, this can be maddening.  But more frequently Azerbaijan shows itself closer to the ideal neighborhood that families hope for in America.  Your community is involved in your life, and ensures you are never simply a face in the crowd.  You are their brother's friend, or daughter's teacher, or the friend of a friend of their brother-in-law.  No matter the degrees of separation between two people meeting each other, a chain of connections is found to form a relationship.

I will miss the sense of time here.  Already I can foresee the days in my life when I wish I could be back in Azerbaijan and have the ability to enjoy space in my day, rather than meeting planned upon meeting.  I like the fact that time is given to complete a task, rather than finishing a task based upon an arbitrary deadline.  Oftentimes this means far more socializing and relationship building, and sometimes it even results in never finishing the task, but it strengthen bonds and passes the time enjoyably.

Khachmaz has been very welcoming to me, and I will miss that.  Once I go back to the US I will simply be another American, but here in Khachmaz-I'm a big deal.  I will miss making the assumption that everyone recognizes me and probably wants to know me.  I will miss the fact that I can more easily initiate conversation here because, most likely, they have been wanting to talk with me for a long time.  I will miss the fact that me entering into a teahouse, or a wedding, or a shop can be quite the event and people are excited to learn my name and want me to come back.  This is a bit self-absorbed, but its nice to feel a little famous and special in a community, its nice to be the coolest kid in school.

Two years is a long time and I've documented it on a weekly basis.  Contained in these archives are posts that brim with excitement, struggle with anxiety, and, at times, grapple with frustration.  This is life.  But overwhelmingly I am pleased with what I accomplished in the last two years and grateful to those Azerbaijanis who have been a part of my life.  I will not forget those friends I've made nor my time here.

(Many of you have been asking about what is next-a huge, but reasonable, question.  I appreciate your interest and plan on sending an update later this week.)

2 Years Of Posts Part 5: Keeping Perspective On What Was Accopmlished

This is the 5th and final part in a series looking back on two years of blog posts in Azerbaijan.  Check out the entire set of posts; Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4.

Who's having a good time?

Thoughts On A Second Year, Posted July 15th, 2012

And as dramatically as enthusiasm may fall in the first year, confidence builds in the second year.  Almost everything I do or think about now, is accompanied by the though 'I'm so glad I'm in my second year'.  Second year volunteers have a level of confidence and competence that simply are not possible first year.  I've put in my time, paid my dues, and finally the azerbaijani cultural monkey is off my back.  I can sit at ease at dinner knowing how to toast, how to eat my rice, how to eat bosbosh.  I'm no longer looking for visual cues in this culture but I can move relatively effortlessly within it.

This post refers to a mantra that was oft repeated in the second year; 'I'm so glad I'm in my second year'. I didn't repeat this for comfort or stability, it wasn't a consciously called up thought-it simply came to the forefront of my mind during various daily activities.  They could be as mundane as heading to school or brushing my teeth, or it might arise during something more significant like traveling to another region for a training or meeting with the ExCom.  But it was always there, ready to reassure me.

I don't really think that as much at this point.  I'm too close to leaving to be comparing my current year to my first year.  For the past month, most of my thoughts have been focused on how glad I am to get out of this country and culture.  Right now, November 15th doesn't just mark a date of achievement, it also marks a jailbreak, an escape from a culture that has been a great source of frustration and exacerbation.

In these last few weeks I've actually become resentful towards Azerbaijan for standing in between me and getting home.  Its not really fair and its also to be expected-its been a long two years, and though they've been two really good and productive years, they have also been two difficult and unfamiliar years.  This was a great post for me to reread as I do those final preparations that only occur when you are mere days away from making a big move.

It was nice to be reminded that what I'm feeling now isn't the theme of my service, and probably won't be the feelings that will be called up as I look back upon my service once back in America.  Just because I'm mentally ready to leave now doesn't mean that I've been ready to leave for the entire duration of my service.  Rather, I'll recall the confidence I felt when navigating this culture, and the hard won ease I felt living in Azerbaijan.

And that will be incredibly satisfying.

2 Years Of Posts, Part 4: Solving Problems In Azerbaijan

I just can't take it anymore! Get me out of here!

This is Part 4 in a series looking back on two years of blog posts in Azerbaijan.  Make sure you check out Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3.

How To Get Your Internet Working in Azerbaijan, Posted April 9th 2012

We are now at a point beyond telephones, and come Monday I head over to the internet office myself to try and get thigns done.  The man at the window says I need to speak with Rasim and calls him to ask where he is (because, of course, he's not in the office).  Rasim says he'll be there at 5.  At 5 I head back to the office, the friendly man asks if Rasim is here.  I say 'he said he'll be here'.  He laughs and says 'Rasim always says he'll be here'. 

I've worked in technical support before (basically, every position in Apple retail, at one time or another, becomes technical support) and one of the most important steps is to troubleshoot the simplest solution to a problem first.  Its a massive waste of everyone's time to assume you need to swap out a broken computer when it turns out they simply didn't know how to turn it on.

There are so many aspects of this story that typify some of my least favorite experiences living in Azerbaijan.  The absolute lack in customer service is ever present here.  The unwillingness to expend anything beyond the absolute minimal level of effort is also commonly seen.  Constant cycles of pushing things back to the next day and day after that, again and again and again.  Making up answers to problems rather than admitting that you don't know what's going on.  Its all here in the story of getting my internet fixed.

It isn't a bitter PCV writing these reflections-these are all true to life and you would probably receive similar answers from most Americans who have spent time in Azerbaijan.  Simply put, there is a massive difference in priorities between the two cultures and what is simply accepted as standard operating procedure here would be considered mind-blowingly rude in America.

I reflect on this often in my last months of Peace Corps and even after two years I struggle with it.  Waiting in line, giving honest answers, privacy-these are all things that are so deeply ingrained in the culture of America that I didn't even realize they were ingrained.  But living in Azerbaijan and experiencing the exact opposite of these things on a weekly, if not daily, basis is a jolt-even after all the time I've spent here.

What makes it even more difficult is its not rude here.  I mean, I certainly perceive it as rude, but no one else does.  This incongruence between expectations is exhausting and frustrating and its one of the biggest reasons I'm excited to get back to my cultural homeland.  At the same time, I do appreciate the experience of being exposed to those subconsciously held assumptions about the way people should act, and learning that, just because it is thought necessary in America, doesn't mean it is thought to be necessary the world over.

2 Years of Posts, Part 3: Serving Oneself While Serving Others

You really have to choose your own path for service.

This is the third installment of my reflection of two years of posts, check out my first reflection HERE and the second one HERE.

Sometimes Service Means Sleeping In, posted October 30th 2011

Service, in any context, is always so 'other' focused, that to drop this focus for a moment can feel selfish and hypocritical, but service, to distinguish itself from slavery or employment, must contain personal joy and commitment in it.  Otherwise, it would be more akin to self-indentured servitude.  Ideally the results of my service will be owned by my community, but the service itself, well that's mine and, when it comes down to the final moments, it is controlled by me.  And if I see that a change needs to take place in it to make me feel happier, healthier, or more productive, then that is a choice I have the privilege to make.

During my two years of Peace Corps Service, I've had two big 'ah-ha'  moments regarding the nature of this 2 year service commitment.  The first one, lucky for me, was during Pre Service Training, when a volunteer shared her rule that she would only work as much as her community member were was willing to.

Her perspective was that we are here to supplement what can be done, and if we do something by ourselves, without any community member involvement, there would be no lasting benefit.  There must be effort from participating community members, whether through learning or executing other aspects of the project, in every project

This was a blessing to hear early on in service and it is this that really focused me on doing projects that had a sustainable component to it rather than a simple one-off event.  My second 'ah-ha' moment is the other side of the first lesson's coin when I realized, on a cold October morning, that the idea of 'my service' was actually speaking to an ownership of my entire experience here.

More than just choosing what I was interested in and avoiding blindly doing what others told me to do, 'my service' meant that I was the ultimate authority on what needed to be done.  'My service' was my own and controlled and grown and fed by me, and it would be me who determined what was right or necessary or most important each day of my service.  

It wasn't 'bad service' to take an extra day off on the last day of an illness, nor was it 'bad service' to decline a guesting invitation in favor of a skype date with America.  At various times over these two years these two decisions were made and it would have benefited no one; not me, not my friends, not my community, if I had guilted myself into choosing another route.

This perspective has also helped me understand volunteerism in a different way.  Often volunteerism conjures up settings of disaster areas, refugee camps, or soup kitchens.  These are areas where service is needing and thankfully there are many awesome people doing many amazing things here.

But for me personally, well, I don't get excited about that form of service.  I want to continue volunteering once I am settled in America again, but I want to volunteer in settings like art museums, libraries, and radio stations.  Service is also needed here and it is here where I know I will be most satisfied by 'my service' and thus do my best work.

Waiting to Prepare

Before you can build it, you've got to have all the important tools and pieces.

The weeks continue on.  I'm acutely aware of the fact that most of my emails probably come off as redundant.  Similar to the 'its so cold' broken record in January and February there really is very little happening now, other than waiting to prepare to leave Azerbaijan.

And that's the rub.  I'm four weeks out, but still not near enough to prepare to leave Azerbaijan; its just a matter of waiting, waiting for only two remaining weeks or ten remaining days before beginning the process of actually packing up.  Though there is enough desire to go home to fill an entire year, there really isn't more than a week's worth of work to do in order to be fully ready to leave the country.

Admittedly, this is only true from an extremely selfish perspective-there is still a lot of guesting to do.  Its especially important to do these last few guestings before a PCV leaves because, no matter what you've done in your service, if you fail to say goodbye appropriate your two years of work vanish and your simple thought of as rude.  But its not too much of a hassle, usually its with good food and established friends.

So these waiting weeks have seen a lot of guesting being scheduled, to make sure i hit everyone.  To Lannea's counterpart's house, to my methodologist's, to a welcoming family we've had contact with.  Final dinners with fellow volunteers, and time schedule in Baku to catch up with friends who have moved to the capital.  There's actually a lot to do in the next four weeks.

It feels good to get rid of a shirt that never truly got clean enough from hand washing or the shoes that have multiple holes in them.  It doesn't feel as good to say goodbye to the Azeri who provided the space for my first conversation club or my friend only a few months before his wedding.  And though it doesn't feel as cathartic, it is certainly more important.

Two Years In, Two Months Out

The Plan of Attack

On September 24th I purchased my ticket home to Dallas.  As coincidence would have it, September 24th also marked my two year anniversary in Azerbaijan.  Two years ago, I arrived in Baku with my head as filled as my suitcase with ideas of how I would make a change in this country for the best.  26 months later, on November 16th, I'll be making a 20 hour journey home wondering how permanent those changes might be.

I certainly had big plans.  Recently I came across an Excel spreadsheet that made me cringe.  Written during pre-service training, it very neatly planned out my entire two years of service.  Dividing service into 6 month blocks it highlights the projects I would execute, the community members I would involve, even the life skills I would be teaching.  I didn't even know my community yet.  Its both a cute and embarrassing display of neuroticism and arrogance.

Really, as service closes I'm most enjoying the smaller items, rather than the larger projects.  I'm glad to make those giant checkmarks over things like PSN training or TEDx but I'm happier simply attending lessons and spending time with my teachers.  I certainly look forward to finishing the next to-do, but I look forward to the next dinner at Tamilla's or next game of Nard with Elvin more.

On a different topic, this week I also launched Top 3 Apps, my new iPhone app company.  My first app is a useful daily priority minder called 'Top 3: Track Your Priorities'.  I'm really proud of it and find it to be quite helpful (I use it everyday).  It's free to download and I'd really appreciate you checking it out.  I've been working on this project for a while and I'm excited to finally share it with the world.

Beginnings and Questions

Looking for some direction? (photo by Evan Finn)

For those of you who don't know, I am a volunteer on Peer Support Network or PSN.  As a PSN member, volunteers call me up and speak, with full confidentiality, about whatever might be on their mind.  Whether about their latest success or their current low point, my main objective is to listen and validate the person on the phone.  Its a great service provided by all Peace Corps countries and I enjoy being involved in it.

So, why am I brining up this aspect of my Peace Corps service today?  Well, during our training to be PSNers we received information about the volunteer cycle of adjustment and vulnerability.  Almost all volunteers cycle through a semi-predictable pattern in their service, where they oscillate between feeling confident and well adjusted in their service and the culture to feeling anxious and vulnerable.

For much of 2012 we've been lucky enough to feel good about what we're doing.  We're in our second year and confident in our workspace.  Our secondary or passion projects are usually in full swing and we are comfortable with the cultural ties we've developed in our community.  However, all good things must end and our last four months of service are marked by a last swing into vulnerability.

From the conversations we have with one another, its fairly obvious to see.  There are concerns of what happens next and of what it will be like to leave the place we've called home, no matter how strange, for the last two years.  There are concerns about what it will be like to enter our American world of friendships and dating again-all of us have yearned for this for the last two years, but it can be a little intimidating to think about how much we may have missed.  We've all experienced a lot of personal growth here and there are concerns over what parts of our identity will transcend cultural mores and geographical borders and what parts were simply an 'Azerbaijani' aspect of ourselves.

These are the concerns that volunteers ending their service dissect with each other on the phone, on the bus, and on the floor.  In less than 3 months, on November 15th, I'll be heading back to America.  Every day, literally every single day, I wake up and am grateful that I am one day closer to that moment, which has for so long seemed so so far away.  But just like every end, it is followed by a beginning, and all beginnings have questions.

I know I'll be heading home for the holidays-I've been away too long and want to see my family and friends and dogs.  But I also want to eat chipotle burritos and avocados, drink PBR and Maker's Mark, and be told I'm pretty by men who's names I don't yet know.  I know that I'll be traveling to South East Asia after that, but for how long and to where exactly I'm still unsure.  I'm unsure of where I will live when I come back and what I'll do for money-I'm confident these answers will come, but they haven't yet, and the questions remain.

There's really no conclusion to this post, its open-ended.  When I came to Azerbaijan two years ago (as of September) I knew that for the next two years I would not have to worry about my food, my house, my health, or my job-all of those things would be provided for.  And that was pretty nice.  But that time has now passed and I'm thankful for that.  And all of us all-too-recent bleary-eyed, jet-lagged 8s must begin thinking about these questions again.  Which is also kind of nice.

It just makes us feel vulnerable.

Refreshed Eyes: Azerbaijan From A Visitor's Perspective

My eyes, though refreshed, sometimes see things a little blurry...

This past week I was lucky enough to get a visit in Azerbaijan from an American friend.  Ingrid has been living overseas, working for Cirque du Soleil, for a while now.  She first spent two years in Macau and is now traveling through Western Europe.  She had a tour break and decided to hop on by and see what Peace Corps life is like.

We spent our first night in Baku.  Now, I've spent a bit of time in Baku, and the Boulevard-the massive pedestrian mall that borders the Caspian sea-has become an all too common place.  In fact, it represents an annoying cultural quirk of the Azeri people-that more than doing activities, like going to the movies, or bowling, or whatever, they just like strolling up and down and up again.  Living here for a while, the Boulevard became an example of the lack of options for entertainment in Baku.

However, spending time with Ingrid I was able to enjoy it from her perspective, as a constant outdoor fair.  In becoming obsessed with all the people walking up and down I forgot to turn my attention to the carnival rides and haunted houses that dot the path, or the outdoor restaurants that look out upon the people and bay.  Thinking of all the things I could not do blinded me to the attractions I did have available to me.

Ingrid was most surprised to see that places like the Boulevard or Targova Square, which is a downtown area filled with restaurants and bars, outdoor sculpture and shopping, existed in Azerbaijan at all.  To some degree, she was expecting what we saw in outer Baku-its crumbling Soviet era buildings and snarled traffic-but instead she found she was shocked by how nice Baku was.

Getting to Khachmaz was where the Peace Corps experience became a bit more apparent.  After viewing Glendene's toilet and my shower she was amazed at the time and creative energy it took to keep personal hygiene up to a certain standard.  It was amazing to her the amount of effort it took to get my shower working-only to find that 'working' was simply a trickle of cold water.

And, hearing her mention that, I realize she is sort of right.  I probably spent over 10 hours trying to 'fix' my shower, and all the fix gave me was what we would consider a broken shower in America.  But this broken shower is my only saving grace when it comes to sleeping in any semblance of comfort during the hot, muggy summers.

In fact, most of Khachmaz, when she first saw it, struck her as a little bit slummy.  Keep in mind: this is the place I've been writing how nice it was compared to other cities in Azerbaijan for the past two years.  But she mentioned that the longer she stayed in the city and the more we walked around and saw the places I would go, the more she came to see the charm and enjoyment of it.

This reached a high point when we came home from the beach.  We spent the day at the seaside, eating watermelon and playing in the waves.  From there we went to Glendene's house to use her good shower and rid ourselves of the Caspian smell.  Finally, after a long and fun day, we arrived back at my apartment.  And here Ingrid realized how nice it was, what a relief it was to be in this place instead of another house or hotel.  Suddenly it no longer looked older and rundown, but lived in and comfortable. (video HERE)

And she's right-it is.  Certainly its not on a the same level as apartments in America.  But there is a homeyness in it that helps one to enjoy the time spent here, whether thats for 2 days or 2 years.

It was great to see an old friend and give someone a sense of Peace Corps living.  But it was especially nice to get their perspective on a culture that has become all too normal to me.  Being with a friend who was seeing Azerbaijan with new eyes helped me to see it with refreshed eyes.

What Do I Do Now?

After two years of Peace Corps, I now dye my hair blonde.

No, this isn't the usual existential quandary post that too often finds its way onto this blog, this is a very literal question.  I was talking with my Grandma last Sunday and she asked me 'What do you do now that you didn't do before Peace Corps'.  It was thrown out so casually and pointedly that I didn't even have the wherewithal to answer it.  At first, I wanted to answer-'Well, I've been writing about that for almost two years,' but that didn't seem like a good answer to those with grandparent status.  It wasn't a good answer period.

It also got me thinking-What do I do now, that I didn't do before?  There's certainly a lot of things I do now that I never did before, which I'm really excited to never do again (pay my utilities at the post office, or really ever speak to the women at the post office again).  But I think the meat of this question was: What are the things that you've begun in Peace Corps that you'll take back to the US.

I don't really have a full answer to this yet-I suspect that's going to be one of those reflection posts that will become a dime a dozen as I get into my last month of service.  And I don't know if I'm mentally or emotionally prepared to write the 'life changes' list.  But I am ready to some sort of list.  So, without further ado

Josh's Very Shallow 'What Do I Do Now?' List

1) Floss.  In my early twenties I stopped lying and just told my dentist 'I don't floss'.  However, after living in a culture where dental care is not nearly as prioritized I have finally been scared straight.

2) Hand wash clothes.  Alright, maybe I won't keep this up in America, but man, being comfortable hand washing my own clothes will make travel so much easier-domestic or intentional.

3) I've expanded what I watch and what I read.  While in Peace Corps I've started reading fiction and watching movies-two things I almost never did before coming to Azerbaijan.

4) Cold showers.  Its not like my shower can heat up anyways, but in the summer, when you break into a full sweat by doing anything, a cold shower is less of a shock and more of a relief.  Healthier too.

5) Make my own peanut butter and hummus.  There are a few other recipes I'll bring back, but I doubt I'll purchase peanut butter ever again (I mean-they don't even include m&ms in it!)

6) Dance at weddings.  Azeris love to dance, and its a requirement to dance when you're called upon at weddings.  I never really used to dance at weddings, but oh man do I now.

7) Know the people in the stores I commonly go into.  When I figure out where I'm living in the US, I really want to be able to say hello, by name, to the people who work in the places I always go to.

8) Eat breakfast.  So I finally begin my day with the most important meal.  The secret to adopting this habit: eating the same, easily prepared thing day in and day out.  Its too early to be creative.

How To Make Time Speed Up

One of the benefits to keeping a stable schedule, even when on vacation, is that when the weekend actually comes you can still appreciate it as the weekend.  And it was this realization I had on Friday, as my room heated up for its afternoon hot box, when I realized it was almost Saturday.

Now alone, this knowledge means nothing.  The fact that the weekend is here is a relative fact-it only matters if there is something you are working towards.  That may just be two days off or putting yourself 5 days closer to something. Personally, I tend towards the latter, but more than that, the realization of it soon being Saturday emphasized how fast these weeks will fly by.

Here's another example: Kelly and I are trying to figure out dates for our remaining teacher training sessions in three more cities.  As we looked at our schedule, we realized there really wasn't much room for choosing which weekend worked better or which was more convenient.  There are three weekends that worked for both of us.  Thats it.  There is something happening on every other weekend once late August hits.

For me, this is a sign that I've settled into a nice pace of life in country-I've gotten involved and I'm doing a lot.  Certainly a good feeling to have in my last few months of Peace Corps service, leave giving a hundred percent, right?.  But its also a good way to keep the days speeding by.  When you stay involved and active, its easier to forget that days are passing by.  And those days turn to weeks and weeks to months, and before I know it I'm on a plane counting hours.

So here's to staying active, and seeing you all before we know it.

Thoughts On A Second Year

Its in the second year where it all comes together.

If ever there was an argument for patience in life and confidence things will work out over time, its the phenomena of the second year.  The first year of everything is the most difficult.  Sure, we have the initial passion and enthusiasm; the honeymoon period is one of my favorite experiences-everything is new and wonderful and possible.  But eventually that initial endorphin rush will end, and we're left to see a situation for what it is.  Its intimidating or unfamiliar, boring or difficult; but it is not the easy breezy time we were led to believe.

Everything that was fascinating suddenly seems a little more boring, everything that was new suddenly seems a little more grimy, and everything possible, suddenly seems a little more unrealistic.  The burst of energy we get in the beginning ebbs and wanes and we are left feeling less confident in our new surroundings.  This is true for a job.  This is true for a marriage.  This is true for a Peace Corps Volunteer.

And as dramatically as enthusiasm may fall in the first year, confidence builds in the second year.  Almost everything I do or think about now, is accompanied by the though 'I'm so glad I'm in my second year'.  Second year volunteers have a level of confidence and competence that simply are not possible first year.  I've put in my time, paid my dues, and finally the azerbaijani cultural monkey is off my back.  I can sit at ease at dinner knowing how to toast, how to eat my rice, how to eat bosbosh.  I'm no longer looking for visual cues in this culture but I can move relatively effortlessly within it.

Sure, most of these things are learned in the first year-I was taught the correct way to eat Plov the first week in Azerbaijan-but what is gained in the second year is the knowledge that people are familiar with me now and know who I am.  Occasionally wearing shorts in my second summer is no longer considered by me to be the most unbreakable taboo-its freaking hot and I'm gonna wear shorts!  Yes that doesn't seamlessly fit in with the culture, but I already didn't.  And more importantly, the kids around my apartment know I'm a nice guy, the teachers at my school know I'm a caring teacher, and the people in my community know I have friends who respect me.

This is not experienced in the first year.  These accomplishments are realized in your second year, when you are far enough away from the culture shock and discomfort of your adopted culture to look around and see 'Hey, I'm actually living here'.  The Azerbaijan culture (and I suspect most cultures that aren't as heterogenous as America) is a somewhat closed and restrictive culture.  But there is a place for a weird American to participate in the lives and experiences of Azerbaijanis.  In the first year, there is so much learning and discovering-finding out what you can do, what you can't do, what you enjoy doing, what you hate doing-but its in the second year where that knowledge becomes integrated with who you are, allowing our many culturally fractured identity to heel the cracks and simple be an American living in Azerbaijan.

This is a nice feeling.  And its a feeling that I know I will eventually have to give up as I head onto another adventure in life that leads me into unfamiliar territory.  But I can confidently say that with time I will be back at a level of confidence, just as those AZ9s who are in their first year of Peace Corps currently will soon experience this feeling in Azerbaijan.

Like It Or Not Josh, You've Got Some Friends

Earlier, in winter, I was struggling with the idea of friendship in Azerbaijan.  I had definitely made some great friends amongst the Americans here but felt as if there was this invisible wall between me and Azeris.  These friendships always seemed a little distant, there was always this feeling that whenever I was socializing with Azeri friends there was a little bit of Peace Corps work going on.

And then, after feeling frustrated that I hadn't yet made any true friends amongst Azeris, I suddenly came to an 'Aha' moment; this wall was entirely of my own creation.  I remember laughingly telling myself that, like it or not, so and so people are my friends.  Real friends, not some sort of half way there, cross-cultural image of a friend.  I just needed to deal with the fact that I actually have some friends in Azerbaijan.

It was a weird thing to realize, it should be so easy to recognize the people you consider friends.  But in Peace Corps, so much of my everyday speaking, working, and living is tinged with an element of work, even if just providing a worthwhile representation of America.  By constantly looking at people as employees, colleagues, or students, even if only slightly, I was unfairly preventing them from just being a person wanted to be around.

This was a bit ethnocentric, a bit too much of a 'what I can benevolently grant to this unfortunate culture' storyline going on here, and I'm glad I came to this sudden, if obvious, insight.  There is a really good lesson for me here: to determine a friendship based on the person to person interaction rather than whether the context of the friendship is familiar to me.  Yeah,  maybe we don't go out to concerts and drink beer together, but that doesn't mean the friendship is any less real, its just simply in different locations with different activities.

7 Months Left Means That I've Entered My 'Senior Year'

Khachmaz is beautiful this time of year.   After the cruel winter (have I made it clear yet just how bad this winter was), children are riding bikes and playing hide and go seek, teahouses are overflowing to the outside with deck tables and chairs, softball practice season has begun.  A month ago I was lamenting the constant cold, now I'm seeking escape from the oppressive, unhidden sun.

Yes, summer is basically here in Khachmaz.  Except-its not; everyone's in school and will be for the next month.  On average, my classes have about 10 pages left in their textbooks, which Tamilla is assuring me is exactly what we want.  I've pointed out that finishing the book four weeks early means we probably could have spent a little bit more time on our material throughout the year, but she has a plan and certainly is a better teacher of Azerbaijani children than I am.

Here's one reason why: last week was the first week in lord knows how long that I attended every single one of my classes.  I'm not proud of this fact (or rather-I'm extremely proud of this fact-it takes serious stamina to get to each one of those classes) but its the case.  I have pretty good sounding excuses to offer, such as traveling 7 hours to deliver a highly successful training, and others that are just as good, but sound slightly less convincing to non-PCVs, like taking a day off that would have otherwise resulted in me snapping in two after the first boy shout 'i love you' to me.

I've never been one to shirk my responsibilities at work or school.  I was actually pretty shocked to hear of all the volunteers before me who had just sort of come to accept that 'hey, sometimes you just have to not go'.  I swore to myself: That will never happen to me.  Well, let me tell you-its happened.  Its happened, its happening, and it will happen again.  Spontaneous bouts of cultural disenchantment + 1 month till school is over + 7 months till end of service = unapologetic senioritis.

Luckily, one of the best things about Peace Corps is that your success as a volunteer isn't determined by a 7th form English lesson.  Its about your integration within your community, the relationships you build, and the effect you have on their lives and they have on yours.  And this is something that I've never had to make excuses about to avoid.

How To Get Your Internet Working in Azerbaijan

So, you've all been hearing about my utility woes throughout the past few weeks.  Its as if the utility companies collectively decided to play an April Fools joke on Josh that took weeks of preparation.  I now have internet back at my house (cue angelic chorus) and am slowly accustoming myself to a digital lifestyle again.  This has been a crazy process, but its incredibly demonstrative of the way things get done in Azerbaijan.  I thought it might be an enjoyable read for those of you back home to get a sense of how this country works.

A month ago my internet stopped working.  Usually when this happens it means I need to pay my bill.  That didn't fix it, but because the next day was a national holiday I couldn't do anything about it.

The next day I contacted the person in charge of internet setup in Khachmaz, Rasim.  To put it nicely, Rasim is not a hard worker.  Even amongst other phone department employees its somewhat of a joke that Rasim is never in the office.  Anytime you call him he'll tell you he can help you the next day, since there is no way he can change his tea-drinking schedule today.  He asked if I paid, I said I did.  He asked, which bank; I told him.  He said he will check, I said okay.

The next day I call him back, and he informs me that the bank said I paid.  'Thanks Rasim, I know.'  This happens to be while I'm at the local internet center where my friend Rashad works and he tells me I just need to reset the router, which he can do.  The next day I bring it to the internet center and Rashad resets it.  When I get back home I plug it in, nothing happens.

By this time its a day before I leave for vacation and I permit myself to throw my hands in the air before I peace out from Azerbaijan and enjoy one wonderful week with my family.  Getting back I steel myself for solving this internet problem and find I have about 5 more waiting for me (hooray!).

We are now at a point beyond telephones, and come Monday I head over to the internet office myself to try and get thigns done.  The man at the window says I need to speak with Rasim and calls him to ask where he is (because, of course, he's not in the office).  Rasim says he'll be there at 5.  At 5 I head back to the office, the friendly man asks if Rasim is here.  I say 'he said he'll be here'.  He laughs and says 'Rasim always says he'll be here'.

Once Rasim did come he tells me the router needs to be reset (which I've already done).  Unsurpringly the internet doesn't work when I get home.  My friend Elvin comes over and asks how this problem is coming along.  He then asks if my phone is working and picks it up.  It's staticy.  When we call it from our cell it says the number is unassigned.  Finally! We have identified the problem-its my phone number.

The next day I take my paid March bill to the phone company.  The woman takes my phone number and tells me she'll take care of it.  When I ask her what's the problem she reinstates, ' we will fix it'.  Nothing happens.  The day after I return and say nothing happened and my phone still doesn't work.  They said that someone came to my home but I wasn't home.  I say that I was home all day and they must have gone to a wrong address.  (We both know that what actually happened is that no one came ot myhome).

Generously, a second, nicer woman calls me over.  She asks what my phone number is, I tell her and she dials it, it works.  'Why doesn't it work from my phone?'  'They've recently changed the area code and you need extra numbers to dial it from a mobile.'

So, its good that the phone works (which I never use), but this brings me no closer to fixing the internet.  At this point my frustration level is approaching cartoon levels.  I know there is some incredibly simply solution to make this work.  I know there is some button some person needs to press to get my internet working.  I just need to figure out who.

Its time to get real.  I ask my friend Sabina if she will be my translator/muscle for this.  We call the Baku office directly.  They explain the reason my phone is working but my internet is not is because there are micro-cuts in my telephone line and it needs to be replaced.  Now, micro-cuts sounds like a pretty BS excuse to me but I've got no other options.

We head back to the phone company and tell them what the internet office told us.  The woman calls the person responsible for fixing telephone lines.  The related conversation of this phone call went something like this: 'When will you be over' 'I'll tell them later' 'Just tell them now' 'No, later.  After she hangs up she shrugs her shoulders and says 'You know how this country is'.

Sabina wisely says she'll follow up herself.  The guard tells us he's at a 'meeting'.  Now, we all know he's not at a meeting, he's at an early lunch.  We tell the guard we will be back tomorrow morning to speak with him.  The next day, he's in another 'meeting' (read: he hasn't come to work yet).  We stalk his door until he shows up and plead our case.  He calls for different people and soon, Sabina, myself, Rasim, and two other men are in a taxi heading to our house to replace my phone line.

At my house, Rasim looks at the router, then looks at the splitter.  A splitter is a small box that has a phone jack on one end and two phone jacks on the other; it allows a phone and a modem to be plugged into one line.  Rasim mutters 'If this works Josh, I'm going to kill you'.  He swaps the modem cord for the phone cord and the phone cord for the internet cord on the double jack end.  Within moments the internet comes back on.  I slap my head and groan.  I am so frustrated with the simplicity and ease of this solution.  Why couldn't ANYONE have pointed this out in any of my numerous interactions with them.

This is how problems get solved in Azerbaijan.  In America we have a history of throwing money at the problem, in Azerbaijan, its time.  Convenience and efficiency just aren't valued here in the way they are in America and most problems are solved by simple dogged determination and persistence, which are to be found in people here at astronomical levels.

When I first got to school, I was amazed to hear some of the ridiculous reasons teachers would give for why they weren't in school.  But after living here for 19.5 months I finally understand it.  I too have missed an entire week of class simply trying ot get my internet fixed.

Staying In The Now

Lets get one thing straight before you read this blog post: it is winter.  Not only is it winter, its the last throes of winter, shaking out its last big of agony upon us before it is killed by our champion Spring.  Its easy to understand there is a bit of seasonal affective disorder influencing the last few (months..) of posts, its a bit more difficult to act upon that knowledge when you are teaching in unheated schools thousands of miles away from the nearest bottle of Bullet bourbon.

The past few weeks have been rough.  I've often been looking back on the past and questioning my decision for joining Peace Corps.  I'm far enough away from leaving that I've forgotten what my reasons were; why did I decide to commit 27 months to an under-developed country?  I don't remember thinking critically about this decision 2 years ago and I'm certainly critical of the decision right now.  I'm concerned the course I've steered my life for these past two years will provide little benefit for me in the years to come.

I've also been projecting myself into the future.  There are so many good things to come that I can't wait and everyday I wake up wanting today to be tomorrow.  I really like initiating projects, helping ideas come into being and putting thoughts into reality-but I'm not so good at finishing projects.  Once the project is no longer fresh I want to move on, leaving it in someone else's capable hands.  I'm feeling that about winter, I'm feeling that about school, and I'm feeling that about Azerbaijan in general.

So, I'm caught between questioning my past and anticipating my future.  But I'm displaying little attention to the now, the moment that I am in currently.  As my thoughts race to the past and fly towards the future I find that I am lacking the ability to ground myself in the present.

Earlier this week I had a great talk with Margaret, whom I had lived with for three years, and she gave her perspective on this situation.  She reminded me, as only a former roommate could, that there were a multitude of well-though out reasons motivating my decision to join the Peace Corps-from dissatisfaction with work to desire to travel to an excitement for the mystique and awe the Peace Corps conjures up.  She reminded me that I had done plenty of research to help me reach this decision and that, far from a lark, it was a very long process of application and reflection.

She also pointed out that at this moment I probably won't be able to see the benefit of Peace Corps; it may only be something I see months, or even years, after.  It reminds me of graduate school in colorado.  Obtaining my MA was nice, but the real benefit for me was moving me to the setting for the next stage of my life: Colorado.  And it was only because of that move I began working for Apple, met numerous lifelong friends, and set myself up for the next stage of my life: Peace Corps and readjustment.

I'm still strongly looking forward to frequent showers, machine washed clothes, going to bars with friends, and 3G networks, but it was nice to have a moment of clarity in my mind's winter sky.  A realization that I actively made this decision and will receive benefits many times over that I may not understand in the present moment.  Winter is ending, spring is coming, and soon enough, I'll be leaving.

Februarys Are The Same Everywhere

I don't often look back over what I've written in my journal, its usually a mediation in the moment and my handwriting is bad enough to prevent much reflection on what was already done.  However, when searching for a topic on what to write about this week I thought it may be inspiring to see what I've been writing about over the past few weeks in hopes of gaining inspiration for ideas.

The thing is, its winter and these past couple weeks it's happened to be really really cold.  The city of Khachmaz broke two records this week-coldest day and longest span of coldest days in a row, meaning we actually continued to break the coldest day record day after day after day.  Actually, all over the country PCVs (and Azeris) are getting a taste of what a bad winter week can be like in a developing country.  Most people are without water (my friend's pipes haven't been unfrozen for over 10 days), electricity is spotty in some areas, and some places are having to ration gas due to it being so cold and concern over demand.

Back to the journal, much of my journal is filled with concerns over winter seclusion, introversion, and guilt.  During these months volunteers repeatedly tell themselves 'I should be out there making a difference,' 'I should be holding more clubs,' and 'I should really get out of this sleeping bag at least once today'.  But its hard to stay motivated when you hold a conversation club that only one person shows up to, and you end up canceling midway through because you both just want to go home.

Last year at this time I excitedly wrote about my success in using my minimal Azeri to order a camera charger (which-by the way-was never ordered).  Just like the toddler no longer thrilled by their parent's 'peek-a-boo,' a year makes a big difference, and the successful (or perceived success) of purchasing one item doesn't motivate me for the week.  Right now, there are no camps nor softball games to get excited about; my biggest accomplishments this week were finishing Season 1 of Game of Thrones and The OCD Project, not exactly something I'll be advertising to my Country Director during a close of service interview.

But its not hopeless, the end of winter isn't in sight, but 29 years of experience tells me that February ends.  Written these past few weeks are also anticipations and excitements for the future, for those projects that come, come the months that bring spring.  And these projects all have boring prep that must be done before they can even begin, just how the boring depths of winter must be survived before the trees can bud.  Camp occurs months from now, but my Azeri counterpart and I have already begun meeting to plan and organize how we will expand it to two more cities in surrounding regions.  Training of trainer sessions for Azerbaijani English Teachers won't begin for a while, but it wouldn't happen at all unless the time was taken this week to submit the grant.  And as much as I want this trip to Turkey to get here, there is also a need to submit vacation requests and purchase airline tickets.

So, though there is nothing much to report on as having happened, there is a lot happening to ensure that I will soon have something to report.  And screw it, tearing through Game of Thrones is something to be proud of.

The Beginning Ends And The End Begins

I just returned from a week of traveling, first to Baku for our Mid Service Conference and afterwards to Ganja (about 6 hours west of Baku) for the final Teacher Training.  Whereas last January I savored and extended every moment away from site and, this time around I was more than ready to turn my footsteps towards the city I've called home for the past 13 months.  Its been a long and anxious and awesome 13 months and this conference gave the entire AZ8 volunteer community a time to stop, pause, and reflect.

Basically MSC had two main goals: reflecting back and looking forward, the intro year is over and the final year begins.  It was pretty powerful to hear what volunteers had accomplished in this past year, not specifically because it was so large or influential (not to say it wasn't), but because it was 60 variations of the same story I am in the middle of acting out as well.  Simply seeing the developed confidence in each one of us was affecting, whereas in PST we had questions about every possible obstacle that might be presented to us, this conference saw a group of individuals far more confident and assured in their ability to handle whatever Azerbaijan might throw at us.

We also shifted our thoughts to the future.  In this conference, the fact our service will draw to a close begins to look inevitable rather than impossible and we shift out thoughts to how we can ensure something of us is left behind.  One of my managers at Apple, as I was preparing to leave as smoothly as possible, pressed me to think what the legacy is that I would be leaving, how people would remember me after I had left.  I think of those conversations a lot right now.

Currently the bulk of my effort goes to training teachers in more effective methods, and a project involving delivering training sessions around the country finished this past week.  It succeeded in delivering content to teachers but it always required an American to be involved and run it; it wasn't sustainable.  Kelly (another volunteer and my partner in this project) and I will soon begin our second project, one that we hope will contribute to our legacy.

We're hoping this will change this next year.  Beginning in March we will hold workshops around the country on how to deliver a Teacher Training on Interactive Methods, a Training of Trainers workshop, which will cover certain methods, lesson design, and presentation skills. Even better, the Azerbaijani English Teachers Association (AzETA) is partnering with us to deliver these workshops.  The goal is that, come November, we will have created a network of Americans and Azerbaijani teachers around the country capable of delivering teacher trainings in their own community, thus extending the reach and encouraging greater participation and empowerment among host country nationals.  I wouldn't expect this project, after one year, to be completely sustainable, but it is a step in the right direction and I would leave Azerbaijan feeling proud of having helped shift focus to a strategy of teacher training more friendly to Azeri involvement.

In my first year I was fumbling around looking for a purpose to be working towards.  Now in my second year I'll be racing to achieve my goals before I must leave.  Just like these past 16 months, there will be ups and downs, but this year, I know where I'm going.

And The Lesson Is 'Boring'

For those of you who have been somewhat keeping up with these emails you'll know that these past couple months (...years?) has been pretty busy.  Talking with friends stateside, it sounds like it was equally true in Americastan; I'd be willing to take the safe bet that, around the world, months which include major holidays tend to be busier than the rest.  Its a familiar phenomenon to feel the need for a break after the rubble is cleaned up from the holiday cheer bomb which exploded all over your previously normal and sane life.

I'll be the first to admit I bring it upon myself.  I like being busy and I'm really good at filling up my hours, days, and months with projects and activities (though I will also admit that walking takes up at least an hour of my day...better get used to this no-car lifestyle).  I like visiting friends and I like getting out and about in my community.  I like meeting with colleagues working towards larger projects than the day to day minutia of a 5th form English lesson.  But I also recognize that keeping up a state of constant work and 'productivity' is exhausting.  My body has been telling me this over the past few weeks, threatening me with illness and forcing itself to bed at 7:30.

And I finally listened.  This past weekend I did nothing; it was a national day of mourning on the 20th of January and I made it my business to have no business on Friday and Saturday.  It was magnificent-I read and listened to music.  I washed my bedsheets and cleared my email inbox.  I bought a new toothbrush and ignored grocery shopping.  For the first time in a very long, I had enough time of not doing anything to actually become bored and it was so nice.  Wandering aimlessly from my living room to the kitchen back to the living room again never felt so good.

There's a lesson for me in here.  I know that we all need to take some time off for ourselves to recharge, but I generally seek out people to recharge which means making plans.  What was so nice about this weekend was that it was unscheduled.  Its already on my calendar in early March to figure out when my next 'unscheduled' weekend will be.  I'm always going to be busy, so I'm going to assume in about 3 months I'm going to want, and need, another weekend of that fleeting flavor of boredom.

Next week we have our Mid Service Training.  I'm going to see some people I haven't seen since we were inaugurated as volunteers.  It will be a week of looking back and projecting forward, dental checkups and language exams.  And then I'll head to to the regions for our final teacher training under this current grant.  It will be a busy week of traveling and trainings, but after this weekend savoring the subtle joy of boredom I think I'm more ready than I've felt in a while.

Staying In Your Comfort Zone In The Peace Corps

By design, Peace Corps takes you outside your comfort zone.  If you were placed in a country where you felt completely at ease, it would defeat the purpose of Peace Corps-its designed to shake you up a bit.  Socially, linguistically, culturally-everything is dramatically different.

Well maybe not everything, one area where I haven't really left my comfort zone is my professional life.  Part of this is also by Peace Corps design-people with 'industry' expertise are generally placed in that specific area.  'Have teaching experience?' 'Good, we need some teachers.'  This is especially the case in the TEFL sector, where the main structure of your week is the school schedule.

With counterparts, I teach numerous classes a week.  I work with other teachers in my community to design trainings to help teachers become more effective in the classroom.  I meet with teachers across the country sharing techniques they can use in the classroom to increase student participation and comprehension.

Sound repetitive? It is.

Its not to say I don't enjoy my work.  I do.  I'm passionate about helping teachers (or trainers, or mentors, or whatever term they are being identified as) become better teachers and I have a certain degree of expertise to offer in this field.  But, it also is quite safe and very little precariousness is involved.

As I begin to ponder what direction my life will take after Peace Corps (you wouldn't believe some of the dorky thoughts I've had regarding my resume) I've started to think about those lessons I'm looking for in future employment.  I've found just as much education in my professional life as I have in my academic life and I'm hoping my next steps will help me along two specific lines.

1) Risk.  As I mentioned earlier, I've been able to play extensively within my comfort zone in the Peace Corps.  One of my most valuable lessons learned in grad school was to become adept at re-articulating situations in terms of your expertise.  While this helps create confidence in new endeavors it also minimizes my experience with risk and taking risks. Don't worry Mom, I'm not looking to engage in 'risky behaviors,' but I'd like to deal with risk enough to know I'm not risk adverse.

2) Entrepreneurship.  It's a goal of mine to start my own business.  That's about as specific as this goal can get right now; I'll acknowledge, there's definitely room for improvement.  I want my next steps in my professional life to prepare me to take action on this goal.  I'm not looking to learn specific lessons rather, I want to experience the nature of a small, interconnected company.  Past the very surface level sheen of entrepreneurship, what is actually involved in day-to-day running?

2011: A Review

I may be a little late in wishing you all a happy new year but believe me that you were all in my thoughts in the early hours and days of 2012. Last year was my first full year in Azerbaijan and this was possible due to the consistent support and spontaneous messages of cheering I would receive throughout the year.  Though much of my communication (both sent and received) is written, I feel much closer to you all when reading your emails or texts.  Thank you so much for that.

2011 has been quite a year with a lot packed into it.  I first began teaching with counterparts at my school in January, after being at my permanent site for only a few weeks.  January was when I began my first conversation clubs and first learned what it was like to be an American teacher in an Azerbaijani school (like being the most famous celebrity ever).  February and March saw me survive my first Azerbaijani winter and continue with my language lessons.  I began an advanced conversation club which provided access to some of the most engaging students I've worked with.  Also in March, my first regional teacher training were held, a project I continue today and which expanded the boundaries of where my service could be held.

Spring came with lots of non-school projects started.  Early April saw Writing Olympics, Azerbaijan would eventually go on to clean up at the international level.  We also held our first softball practice in Khachmaz-its pretty incredible to think where they are now considering where they began.  April also began one of the oddest relationships in my life-my landlady.  Finally I could be an adult again when I moved away from the host family and into the clutches of a kind, if not overly intruding, landlady.  May slowly, but surely came to a close and with it, the end of school.

Oh the beautiful freedom of summer.  Now that there wasn't school hanging over my head there was so much more we could do!  Summer was very hot, so much so that we put baseball on hold, but that didn't stop me from traveling and exploring this country.  I conducted more teacher trainings and helped with 3 different summer camps around the country.  Volunteers and friends around Khachmaz held our own camp, both here and in Khudat.  I began meeting with Elsean, the region's methodologist, and that became a really enjoyable friendship.  I also got to visit the fam in America for my sister's wedding.  Summer was extremely busy, but very very fun.

As summer changed to fall the weather began to cool, but the pace didn't.  Every weekend from September to mid November was scheduled with a different activity.  Softball tournaments, teacher trainings, new volunteers coming in, old volunteers leaving.  Traveling to Ganja and Goychay, Baku and Tbilisi or hosting volunteers who came to visit Khachmaz.  By the time Thanksgiving came around I wanted a weekend off.  So I took one and didn't go anywhere for the holiday.  It was a much needed respite and prepared me for a super busy December.  While preparing for multiple holiday parties it was shocking to see that the semester had already drawn to a close-it felt like it hand't yet begun.

There was a lot of sport activity this year, which was new for adult me and really, really nice.  Softball, though at times a pain, became one of my favorite activities in Azerbaijan.  I am looking forward to spring coming and the accompanying practices.  My site mate Glendene and I began practicing yoga together this year which has been a massive benefit for me.  It is like practicing with a private teacher multiple times a week and I can only continue to be grateful for this.

Regarding hobbies, 2011 saw the inception of my most recent 'once in a life time experience' to plan-renting a private yacht in the Mediterranean.  Deposits have been paid, flights are being purchased, and all of us are getting very excited for June.  I blogged more than ever this past year-publishing a new post about once ever 3 days (including my ever-expanding Hip-Hop from the Land of Fire series).  They say the best way to become a better writer is to write-lets hope that's true.

So what have I learned this year?  At times, I feel very little; this culture still continues to baffle me and I feel about as solid in life direction as I did when I left for the Peace Corps (which would be: somewhat).  If anything I've learned a greater ease in allowing others to run with ideas. Coming into service there were so many times where I felt the need to involve myself and my American ways; more often is the case now that I agree with an idea and find I'm providing more moral support than anything else.  This is an advanced skill for a leader and I'm grateful to receive practice in it.

I'm extremely excited for 2012.  This is the year will show the results of long term projects.  This is the year of a yacht trip.  And, this is the year I can return to my friends and family in the states.  Please check out 'New Year: New Goals' as well.  I can't wait to share my 2012 with you.