(written November 17 and posted way late)
I usually wake up around 7am.
On days that I’m not being too lazy, I workout in my room—omitting any jumping or running exercises to avoid waking up anyone in my family (and having to explain what I’m doing), or the neighbors that live below us. Other times, I go for a run down a crazy one-lane dirt road. Finally getting up the courage to ask to go running was a big deal for me—and has infinitely improved my life here, as running has long been my escape from stress and my best way to stay in shape.
I wash up, get dressed and ready for my day—it’s amazing how little time it takes to get ready when showering isn’t part of your regular routine. My clothing lately has been: black leggings, black skirt, shirt, black sweater, black shoes. Azeri’s wear a lot of black, and I like it—except that when I’m teaching I end up covered in chalk.
I sneak into the kitchen and get breakfast, which is always the same: tea, bread, butter, cheese, and sometimes jam. Bread here is usually sold in a round loaf about 8” in diameter that we affectionately call discus bread…It is baked and bought fresh every day and I would guess that my family eats 4 or 5 of these a day. Bread is eaten with every meal, no matter what—even if the meal is just rice, or potatoes, or pasta.
Afterwards, I find an empty jar and get some leftovers to take for lunch (along with bread, obviously—it was a while before I could convince my mom to quit giving me a half a loaf for lunch every day), I get my books and goodies together and walk about 10 minutes to my language school, dodging mud puddles, marşrutkas, and soviet cars.
Language class lately has been starting at 10am—I try to schedule my arrival at school when the children are in class to avoid the literal swarm of kids that I taught during practicum who scream “HELLO! HOW ARE YOU! HELLO LILLI TEACHER!” whenever they see me in the hallways. Once I’m safely in my cluster’s locked language classroom, we have between 3 and 4 hours of Azerbaijani language lessons—right now we’re learning body parts. My teacher is a fantastic Azerbaijani Bakuvian (I might have made up that word?) named Qaymar (pronounced Guy-mar), and there are 6 people in my cluster:
- Kelly (from Texas, taught high school lit in the US, loves food as much as I do, ultra-beautiful, is serving with her husband, Dustin)
- Dai (from NYC then DC, is an ultimate frisbee champ, ends every sentence in ‘bears’, is addicted to Snicker’s bars and kontor)
- Nancy (from California, retired reading specialist, is serving with her husband Ed, has the most fantastic laugh and lots of good teaching insights)
- Joe (from New Jersey [I try not to hold it against him], studied philosophy in India, had dreadlocks before Peace Corps)
- Peggy (from Minnesota, retired nutritionist, likes the head-shoulders-knees-toes song)
Together, we learn a lot, but also have a lot of fun…Qaymar is a great teacher of both the Azeri language and the idiosyncrasies of Azeri culture.
In the afternoons, my cluster travels to the nearby town of Saray for our technical sessions. This involves walking about 15 minutes to this sketchy corner where there is always a huge huddle of Azeri men standing around with no apparent purpose. There, we wait on a bus to Saray. Although we normally take the number 14, 12 or 12a, yesterday we were lucky enough to somehow get on a rogue number 12 with a completely different route that took us down a ridiculous destroyed dirt road opposite of our destination. Pooling our language skills and courage, we talked the driver into going out of the way of his route to take us (and 5 other passengers) to the school where our technical sessions are held. During this experience, I thought to myself “adventures like this are why I joined the Peace Corps.” They’re also why I’m having such a great time : )
Technical sessions usually finish at about 4 or 5 in the evening, and I take the bus back to my town of Corat (pronounced jor-at) and walk around half an hour back to my house. In the evenings, I eat dinner, and usually sit in the kitchen with my mom watching my favorite Azeri TV show, “Onun Yarisi”. Translated as “your half”, this is a ridiculous weird dating show in which eligible bachelors and bachelorettes try to find a husband or wife by answering such intimate questions as “how much money do you make?” or “do you mind living in my mother’s house?”. I speak with my host mom and sister and sometimes am able to sneak off to read or study, although Sevinc often hovers and makes it hard to focus (okay…this is putting it lightly).
If it is one of my two shower days per week, I haul myself into the shower room and enjoy a loonnngg shower (in which my hair is washed twice). Luckily, since my host family is pretty well off, we have a water heater that allows us hot water whenever we want it. Score!
I am happy here, settling into a routine, and learning more every day. Tomorrow I find out my site placement, and prepare for my nice controlled routine to be upset by the next big adventure!
