Sunday morning Beloved wakes with a start, “I heard glass breaking!” I am up in an instant and going through the house turning on all the lights and making sure everything is secure. (Don’t ask what I would have done if I had found someone in the house--I have thought of that too and I’m not sure of the answer!) There is one major difference we notice as we are waking up, the wind is really blowing. More than we have seen yet in Ganja. Nothing more than we would see in the Midwest, probably 15-25 miles-per-hour, but as we have not seen more than a gentle breeze in the almost four weeks we’ve been here it is obviously a lot of wind. It is not impossible to think that something has dislodged in the vicinity and broken a window. I think 40mph winds would do a great deal of damage in this city.
We have some coffee and get ready to go out at noontime, we are meeting J and B for lunch. They are Americans as well and we have met with them every week just to visit.
As we get out, walking toward the downtown area we are greeted with a wonderful sight, the wind has blown away all clouds and mist and fog--we are able to see the mountains on both sides of the city. For the first time now in almost four weeks I realize that Ganja is ringed by mountains on three sides. I am out without the camera, hopefully I will get some photos of this one day soon.
We are going to a new place for lunch, called “the Cave.” Oh boy, I think, but it turns out to be the nicest business space that I have been in yet. It is like a cave, it is the basement of a building, and you have to walk down a flight of steps to get to it, but the decor is pleasant, the place is completely finished--meaning there are no “unfinished” wall or floors or ceilings visible. Oh the things we take for granted...
The conversation is wonderful, the service, not so much. J and B, after describing to us what they usually get, order for us. The ladies, Beloved and B end up getting the same thing, chicken breast and french fries, and the gentlemen, J and myself have ordered a dish that I cannot right now recall the name of. After about ten minutes the waiter arrives with the ladies’ meals. “Go ahead, eat it while it’s hot, I’m sure ours will be here in a minute.” Or twenty. The ladies were completely done with their meals when ours arrived. The food proved to be almost worth the wait--it was very very good, probably the best local dish that I have had yet. And, it was a very large portion, I brought home half of it and ate it on Tuesday enjoying it again.
At four o’clock Yaver and her daughter Nazu (Naw-zuh) came over, Beloved had invited them over earlier in the week, she wanted Yaver to show her how to prepare this particular local dish called “Aash.” Not ash, Beloved already knows how to make that. Sounds like oshkosh without the kosh. Anyway, after a little while it is becoming apparent that Yaver had no idea that she would be cooking this afternoon.
Nazu and I are watching Gilligan’s Island on DVD while the ladies sort it all out. Nazu is eleven and speaks fair english, but does the humor of Gilligan really need any translation? I think not...
There is much laughter and smiles and we finally get something cooked, but it doesn’t seem to be what Beloved thought would be Aash. Yaver cooks enough rice for ten people, chicken, sauteed onions, and the rice had saffron and lots of butter in it. It was really pretty good.
We have some coffee and get ready to go out at noontime, we are meeting J and B for lunch. They are Americans as well and we have met with them every week just to visit.
As we get out, walking toward the downtown area we are greeted with a wonderful sight, the wind has blown away all clouds and mist and fog--we are able to see the mountains on both sides of the city. For the first time now in almost four weeks I realize that Ganja is ringed by mountains on three sides. I am out without the camera, hopefully I will get some photos of this one day soon.
We are going to a new place for lunch, called “the Cave.” Oh boy, I think, but it turns out to be the nicest business space that I have been in yet. It is like a cave, it is the basement of a building, and you have to walk down a flight of steps to get to it, but the decor is pleasant, the place is completely finished--meaning there are no “unfinished” wall or floors or ceilings visible. Oh the things we take for granted...
The conversation is wonderful, the service, not so much. J and B, after describing to us what they usually get, order for us. The ladies, Beloved and B end up getting the same thing, chicken breast and french fries, and the gentlemen, J and myself have ordered a dish that I cannot right now recall the name of. After about ten minutes the waiter arrives with the ladies’ meals. “Go ahead, eat it while it’s hot, I’m sure ours will be here in a minute.” Or twenty. The ladies were completely done with their meals when ours arrived. The food proved to be almost worth the wait--it was very very good, probably the best local dish that I have had yet. And, it was a very large portion, I brought home half of it and ate it on Tuesday enjoying it again.
At four o’clock Yaver and her daughter Nazu (Naw-zuh) came over, Beloved had invited them over earlier in the week, she wanted Yaver to show her how to prepare this particular local dish called “Aash.” Not ash, Beloved already knows how to make that. Sounds like oshkosh without the kosh. Anyway, after a little while it is becoming apparent that Yaver had no idea that she would be cooking this afternoon.
Nazu and I are watching Gilligan’s Island on DVD while the ladies sort it all out. Nazu is eleven and speaks fair english, but does the humor of Gilligan really need any translation? I think not...
There is much laughter and smiles and we finally get something cooked, but it doesn’t seem to be what Beloved thought would be Aash. Yaver cooks enough rice for ten people, chicken, sauteed onions, and the rice had saffron and lots of butter in it. It was really pretty good.
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