Day 46 Sunday

Yesterday was a crazy day around the house. It was a very somber day around the city, however, one of the instructors at The Training House had planned a big party with almost twenty Azeri's. Oh, by the way, the party was at my house.


It so happened that last week on Wednesday Manchester stopped in, she is a delightful young woman of British origin. She and the Coffeeman are great friends, and she fills us in that she has had numerous meetings of this Azerbaijani Students Club in the house that we are living in, Coffeeman's house.


So, about 11:30, Manchester arrived and began making preparations for the others to arrive. Shortly thereafter a young Azeri girl shows up, and there are two people now cutting the cakes and making the tea. 


We visited for a few minutes, but soon decided that we might be in the way, so we left for the afternoon. It was a snowy, rainy, drizzly day, but we were together, Beloved and I. We needed to hit the ATM, "Bankomat" as it is known here, and we decided to visit Farshid at Ala Turka for lunch.


I am now accustomed to the locals throwing out a "Hello," every now and then, and occasionally the brave ones will move on to include, "How are you? Where are you from?" and so on. Today was the first time that I have had someone really try to converse with me in Azeri, and not give in to the fact that I don't speak the language. I don't know if this guys' elevator didn't go all the way to the top or what, but he was determined to get us to understand. (We didn't) He followed us. He talked louder. I turned around and tried to tell him that I don't speak the language. This guy was insistant, and it took over two minutes to get him to lay off. He wasn't overly rude or obnoxious,  at one point we did recognize that he was introducing himself and we exchanged names, but in the end we smiled, shrugged our shoulders and walked away. "Goodbye!" He still followed after us for two blocks...

Lunch at Ala Turka was good, Farshid has wanted twice now to serve us "the Turkish Barbecue!" and he says it with such pride, so today we let him serve us. Most westerners would call it kabobs, it was meat on a skewer, and it was very tasty. Served with parsley greens, onions, shredded carrots and a grilled tomato wedge. Farshid always impresses me with his consumate desire to serve. He is always replacing our napkin and very quick to refill the tea or remove an empty plate. He always makes us feel welcome, even though his english is only fair. This is a picture of Farshid, our friend the waiter.

After lunch we slowly wandered back through the markets of the Bazaar, and we found a Bankomat that would dispense funds, so we headed back to the house. The party was over, Manchester and her sidekicks were cleaning up, the house was no worse for the wear.


Beloved cooked some steak that she had purchased on an experiment, and we are still experimenting. The funny thing about beef--perhaps because the cows are so thin here--the highest priced cuts are full of fat, the lean is actually cheaper than the fat. We'll keep trying to figure it out. The potatoes were good! We watched a movie and went to bed early.

Day 45 Saturday

It's snowing again. Actually, I asked an Azerbaijani co-worker what she thought about the snow, she said, "It's not snowing, it's joking. It is not a nice snowfall, it is just enough to muck up the works." (which is a British term) And yes, it is just enough snow to make it a lovely day to stay inside and catch up on writing the blog and reading and maybe watch a movie. It is a grey, bleary day.


It is also another nationally recognized day of mourning in Azerbaijan. Today is a day that Azerbaijan commemorates THE KHOJALI GENOCIDE OF 1992. It is an unfortunate event, no that's not right--that would be like calling the Twin Towers event on 9/11 an unfortunate event. Armenia forcibly occupied a region of Azerbaijan, almost twenty-percent of the nation in land mass, and killed over 600 men, women and children in one night doing it. I don't really know how to put it into words, it is the war that goes on and on, sometimes hot but most of the time cold, but puts a strain on the international relationships between Azerbaijan, Armenia, Russia and Turkey and other surrounding nations and makes the eight-million inhabitants of this country seething mad at Armenia. This action needs a resolution, but both sides view it differently. I do not know the Armenian side of the story, other than this city of Khojali was a predominately Armenian-speaking city. That does not seem to be reason enough to storm in and brutally  kill (yes, brutally--look it up on Google) more than 600, injure 1200 and displace hundreds of others. Today I will take the side of the Azerbaijani's.


I like to write about things that are fun and light and laughable, but I guess today is not that day.

Day 44 Friday

Today we are off to Yavlar (which is spelled with an "x" at the end, but it sounds like Yavlar, or Yav-loch, but you'll probably never be here or learn the language so you don't need to know that,) with England and Indy. We are submitting our application and accompanying documents for the work permit and residence permit. Indy is going with us to pick up her work permit, she has finally been approved. 


England calls at 10:30 or so, "I'll be there in five or ten minutes." Which turns out to be five. Beloved is just starting a quick egg (a fried egg--yuck) when he knocks on the door. England is in a hurry, there will be a couple stops before getting under way. We drive about six blocks to the first stop, "I'll only be a minute," he says as he darts into a small doorway. It is lightly raining/snowing this morning, and cold. After nearly 40 minutes he re-appears with the completed documents from the house owner. England is a patient man, but even he comments about the frustration of taking nearly an hour-and-a-half to fill in five lines on a document.

A rainy day in Ganja

Next stop, The Training House, where we collect Indy as England confers with Mrs. P, "knower of all things for submittal of visa documents."


Finally we are under way, on-track to arrive 20 minutes before 1:00, the lunch break. England assures us that this will not be a good thing, that the attendants would be very grumpy if we want to submit a whole pile of documents just before lunch. So, we are hurrying, hoping to arrive in time to not interfere with lunch.


The drive is not much to write about, the combination of just enough precipitation to make the roads wet thereby filling the air with a residue of windshield-coating mud and the mostly ineffective windshield wipers on England's truck kept the sight-seeing element to a minimum. Not that there is much to see on this stretch of road anyway, it is the perpetually-under-construction main road to Baku.


After 45 minutes or so, we arrive at a wide spot in the road, don't blink--this is Yevlax/Yavlar/Yavloch. Turn off to the right, about 500 yards or meters, turn in on the left to a newish-looking building. Having now been in more than a few Post-Soviet-era bureaucratic offices, police stations, hospitals, etc., between Estonskia and Azerbaijan, I had in my mind a picture of what we would find--I was preparing my spirit soul and body for a thousand-year old building that had worn-out everything, a hundred people waiting inside in no type of a line or que, huddled around one haggard, mean, power-hungry, demoralized government official sitting at a circa 1971 desk under one light bulb hanging by its wire. He would have a dozen stacks of paper on the desk, a ruler to cleanly tear paper in half (I'll tell you more about that one day) and a stamp. God forbid there be no stamp. Shall I go on? Let's see, paint peeling off the ceiling, holes in the wall where the plaster had fallen off, freezing cold because there is no heat on today (maybe next Tuesday), there would be three chairs in the waiting area but they would all be broken, (these would be from the '70's also) and throw in some faded photographs of former directors, presidents, cabinet members, ruling party members, dictators, you get the idea.


This was none of that. Well, almost--it was cold inside the place. And there were photos of the former president, who is dead now, more on that another time too. Other than that, this place was clean, well-lit, the photos of former party leaders were not faded, there were plants and the nicest couch I have sat on yet in Azerbaijan. (Pity it will probably still be there in 25 years) The ceilings and walls were all in good repair and painted, and the three officials were situated more like tellers at a bank. You could sit in a chair that was provided, but they were behind glass. There were only two other applicants before us, so we were able to approach the glass immediately to begin out transaction. One of the officials even smiled.


We have made good time and now have 45 minutes before invading the lunch break. England will do the business, we will do the waiting. After about 15 minutes, any perceived momentum came to a halt--there was a document missing. All of our documents seem to be in good order, this is a different document--a new process that we knew nothing about. True and honest, this is what they were hung up on--England, a senior official of The Bank (where I am employed) could not present the application, he would have to have another member of The Bank present the documents, with a properly stamped document stating that he was acting as power-of-attorney for England. This was the only way they will accept these documents and the application for the work permit. Welcome to Azerbaijan.


Indy got her document (congratulations) and we left. England shrugged, "What else are you going to do? They make the rules."


The ride home was essentially the same scenery-wise, but we ended up using the whole time to work on language, which was actually fun. Well, actually grueling too, but fun. England is an infinitely patient teacher, which I needed today. We spent 45 minutes working on, "I write, you write, he writes, we write, you all write, and they write." Not so tough, huh, well I finally got to the point that I could get 5 out of 6 correct inside of 30 seconds. My afternoons Azeri lesson sounded like this; (I will use the english-sounding equivalents--the Azeri language uses some strange mutations on english letters like ü and ∂ and ç which I will forebear at this time) "Man yazeram, San yazersan, O yazer, (the word for he, she and it are all the same, O) Biz yazeruck, Siz yazersiniz, and Onlar yazerlar."


It's slow but it's coming!

Day 43 Thursday

We have recently been enjoying the company of a young woman from Indianapolis. She has been here since September working as an english instructor at The Training House. She has a quick sense of humor and has been a welcome spot of normal American interaction in this chaotic, complicated city.


She also loves one of our favorite card games, Euchre. Indy is an adept player and has been teaching another young lady the game, which is played in partners, which is also probably the only reason that Beloved and I do as well as we do. We've played twice now, two games in an evening and have split the victories evenly both times. If Indy had a good partner she would very likely skunk us all the time. Especially with her crazy traditions of "milking the cow when you're in the barn!" Don't even ask about that one...

Day 42 Wednesday

We invited several people over for Sunday Dinner, including a couple that we recently met walking down the street. One day last week we were walking back from downtown and heard a couple talking in English (American English) so we introduced ourselves briefly then and invited them to dinner the other day. They are here with the Fulbright Scholar program, they are both instructors at the University. They have a guest visiting them and ask if she can tag along, another Fulbright Fellow instructing in Moldova. We also invited N & L, a British couple who have become friends, and one of their co-workers comes along too, a German woman, so there are eight of us and N & L’s 13 month-old baby, Annabel.

N & L arrive first, “Where’s the baby?” “Oh, she's asleep in the stroller.” One thing that is common place over here--if the baby is asleep--is to leave the baby in the stroller--outside. Why not--it’s not raining...? She was all bundled up (it was about 35 degrees) and slept nicely for almost two hours.

The German woman arrived shortly after, and then the other Americans. Beloved has prepared Tex Mex Chicken Fajitas with refried beans, sauteed onions and bell peppers, corn, sour cream, salsa--man it was good! Everyone there said so as well, and ate two helpings all around.

I meant to get a picture of everyone but it didn’t happen. I’m sure we will do it again.

The conversation was wide and varied, from local election coverage to Tajikistan to a week's journey on the Trans-Siberian Railway. Yes, our American guests, widely traveled people, came to the mideast by traveling west, through Beijing, China, then across Siberia, Russia by rail. It was a really good time, and good to be entertaining again as well. We will definitely do it again.

 Finally got the telephone wire changed. It has made a huge improvement in the reliability and quality of my internet. I was concerned that it might be expensive, but unduly so--the workman and an interpreter from the Training House arrived, looked at the house for about five minutes and then they were off to buy the wire. They arrived back about 45 minutes later with a loose roll of telephone wire--about 100 feet. The Ustasa (work man) set to work right away, and in half-an-hour I had brand new wire from the pole all the way into my house (about 75 feet) for 22AZN--about $27.50. Not bad at all. Maybe I should have paid him a little more so he could get a better ladder... (check out that quality!)

Another new experience yesterday, the gas and the electricity went out at the same time! Good thing we had language lessons, we just turned off all the furnaces and left the house. Got home in the afternoon and the electricity was back on but the gas did not come back until about 6:30PM. It was fairly chilly in the house by that time, so we didn’t sleep super-great. The heaters are not the fastest things in the world, and when the 18-inch-thick stone walls get cold it takes some time for them to get warm.

We are finally ready to submit permit documents this week. All the pertinent papers have been collected and signed and stamped and notarized, so we are off to Yavlar on Friday. I’ll let you know how that goes.

Day 40 Monday

I had my post about Pear Soda, Beloved wanted to post about this multi-juice box. What about it? She says it's fine juice, but she can't buy this brand anymore--every time she looks at it she sees "Crappy." We'll stick with the Jala...

Day 37 Friday

Who knows how many things I will miss when our time here in Azerbaijan is done? I can't say for sure what I might miss if we end up being here for several years or more, but if we had to leave tomorrow, I know I would not miss the weather. Or the primitive infrastructure. Lighting the furnaces or pumping the water. No, I will not miss these things. However, there is one thing that I will miss--pear soda.

Don't knock it until you've tried it, I love this stuff! It's like a really, really strong creme soda with pear flavor. I love it, it's great! It comes in a dozen different labels, and is usually called lemonade (sounds like lemon-odd), and each one is just a little bit different, but I haven't tasted one that I did not like. I suppose it's kinda like root beer in the States, some are sweeter or stonger than others but they all taste pretty much the same. Beloved and I had a non-alcoholic sparkling-pear beverage on our honeymoon, so carbonated pear drinks have always been special to me, though this is the first one I have had that is drinkable--usually the bubbles get in the way and it's more like pear-flavored alka-seltzer. This, however, is good stuff, and it is always on the shopping list. We won't go to the market without bringing home pear soda!

Day 35 Wednesday

It snowed overnight, we got 3-5 inches blanketing the entire city. It was still snowing when I got out in it about 8:20AM. It was nice and quiet as a snowfall usually is, and I was hoping it would make everything prettier, as snowfall usually does. It was a thick, wet snow that stuck to everything. And don't think of it as a winter-wonderland, this was an unusual visit of the white stuff to the desert--it was mostly gone by 2:00PM, and very fascinating to see snow on palm trees!


So, here are some photos of Ganja under snow. Enjoy!

Day 33 Monday

Happy Valentines Day! They don’t celebrate it over here, I haven’t even seen evidence that they recognize it over here, but oh well, we do! Greetings and, “I love you,” to all my family and loved ones and friends back in the midwest! 


To my mom, “I love you!” Thanks for being supportive and understanding as we take on this adventure!


To Brian and Andrea, “Love you as much as the sky!”


To Nina and Scott, Paul and Vickie, Robb and Jennifer, (and their kids!) Teresa and Sean and Bella, Tina and Jake, to all the Winn Family in Florida and elsewhere, to Randy and Debbie and Sonja and Jack, Susie and Allen, to Tony, Jenny, Tim, Larry, Dave, Kenny and Jerrod, Kristy and the rest of the bunch at Spirit, to Larry James and Rocky Jr., to Steve P. and Peter M., Jeff P., Scott and to WOL and WOCT, Pat and Nita, Carole and Ron, Carolyn, and all our dear friends at Twin Lakes...


Happy Valentines day, we love you a lot!

Day 31 Saturday

Here’s a first, got stopped by the police while walking through the park. We are getting used to people looking at us all the time, and even when they start talking to us--it’s usually kids wanting to try out their english. So when a police office approached us, we really didn’t think much of it, there were four of us walking through the park, and two happened to be good-looking young women under the age of 26. We were all talking in english, so this young officer came up and asked where we were from? Then he asked if we had registered at the Police Department, “Yes, of course.” “Can I see your documents?” “Uhh, sure...” We presented the documents, and then Beloved did something I thought was very funny--she asked the young man where he was from, which seemed to be the beginning of the end of this exchange. He got a little flustered, didn’t even ask one of the girls for her ID, then was done. Afterwards, both young ladies (one which was not carrying any ID at all) stated the same opinion--the ID check was just an opportunity to get a closer look at them. Welcome to Azerbaijan...

Day 28 Wednesday

We walked downtown today, the plan was a quick lunch at Elegance and then over to the department store, "Univermag." However, at the end of walking street there is a blockade. Chairs and benches are all stacked up and the Police are all standing around. We approach and our friend Farshid greets us. "What's going on? Can we get in the restaurant?" "Yes, of course, please come in."


It turns out that the President of Azerbaijan is coming to Ganja today to officially open a park that has been under renovation for several months now, and has essentially closed down the center of the city. No one gets in, even to the point of getting to your house. Not ten minutes later we get a text from a friend--"I cannot get in to my apartment, can I hang out with you?" So we are joined by another young lady there at the restaurant.


Note; what the heck? Can't the police get some official-looking barricades for presidential visits? I am not kidding, I thought there was some kind of riot going on, they stacked up benches. Come on, let's get some orange cones and some yellow tape...


Elegance Restaurant is right on the edge of the blockade, and we can see through the window that there is nothing going on inside the blockade. No traffic, cars or pedestrian, on the streets, it is eerily quiet. However, since the restaurant is quiet too, we get to chat more with Farshid.


From the first time we met Farshid we know that this gentleman know how to take care of his customers, and we truly are his customers. He is telling us about his recent holiday to Dubai, he went to the beach one time for one hour--"the temperature must have been 42," he says. 42C is 108F for all you non-metric readers.


He also asks for our telephone number, and tells us, "This summer we will go up into the mountains and I will prepare kabob for you over the fire."


Univermag is out of the question, so we are done for the day, so we head home and work on our language studies.

Day 27 Tuesday

Yaver was here this morning to do the housekeeping but ended up doing as much language tutoring as we were both working on our Azeri language studies this morning. It was funny, our diction is still very slow, we both have only a couple of phrases that we can recite quickly, the rest of the time we have to struggle as we think of every part of every word to say. We are learning more words, but the recall and then getting them out of the mouth still take a lot of work. 


Yaver is patient and helps us with the pronunciation of words and the proper construction of sentences. I have to remember to put the words in the right order or it doesn’t make sense to the locals. For example, “Man bir az Azarbaycan dillinda danashuram,”  is literally translated word-for-word as, “I a little Azerbaijan language speak.” Which is really messed up to my American mind. But that’s the way it is. 


We go to language lessons in the afternoon, our teacher would like us to remember more phrases rather than construction of words, like the example above. “If you remember it as, ‘da-dat-da-dat-da-da’ instead of the actual words...” but I don‘t know. I like to know what I’m saying...


It has been cold weather and I feel a little sick when we get home, so I nap by the heater. I am feeling a little better four hours later, and the blog is now up-to-date again. Goodnight.

Day 26 Monday

England has informed me that there is a meeting of all the branch managers this morning, and a few other key individuals of The Bank, and he thinks it would be good for me to attend this meeting. So, I walk down to the bank at about 9:00 and prepare for this meeting--I find out that I am on the agenda. England has asked me to prepare some ideas for advertising the bank, especially to market the launch of our newest branch in Zakatala in April.

The meeting is about many things concerning the operation of the bank, but it is helpful to learn more about the details of the workings of the bank. My portion goes well, although England showed my graphics before I could set them up, so there was some awkward explanation of what we were looking at since it was revealed before I could tell them what they would be seeing, most glaringly, all the text was in English and I made up the names of the clients and their business names. All-in-all not too bad, there was some good discussion about visual concepts and elements of the logo of the bank, which I am encouraging them to review and refresh. 

I apologize about the redaction of certain elements--primarily the name of the firm. I am not sure if this is even necessary, and I’m sure that anyone really trying hard could figure out who I am and the company I will be working for, but for now, I am going to try very hard to keep it more secure. There are a lot of strange things that go on over here that are not very savory to speak about, so I will try to keep things as secure as possible until such time that I am confident I can reveal more. Thanks for understanding...


The meeting is done at 1:00 and I go home for lunch. Beloved and I are back on the sidewalk at 2:00, we have been asked to do some volunteer “listening” at the Training House, listening and evaluating the language skills of some students there--Azerbaijanis that are learning english.


At 2:30 the students start coming in. We have been instructed to explain the directions, then listen to the students interact with each other, two students at a time. “One of you think of an animal. The other student will ask descriptive questions to try to determine what animal the first student is thinking of.” It was exhausting. The students didn’t seem to understand the questions, then didn’t seem to know enough language to accomplish the directions. Oh well, everyone has a bad day from time to time. I’m sure our language skills have a long way to go as well.


It’s funny, when you are surrounded by a language you don’t understand, you can get to the point where it is hard to think or communicate in English! Today was that day! We go to bed early, tired-out in our brains.

Day 25 Sunday

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.

Day 24 Saturday

Saturdays, when the weather is nice, we have been working in the playground area at The Training House. I have mentioned in previous posts about taking down the stolbas, today we are clearing the yard of cubics. A cubic is a stone that has been quarried, it is the standard of 99 percent of all construction that I have seen in this country. A cubic is about eight inches square by about sixteen inches long, and about twelve to eighteen pounds. They are used for everything, construction of houses and business buildings, tall walls and short walls, including what we are dismantling today, a two-stone-tall retaining wall. The playground has, at some time in the past, been divided into three portions, so we have four walls to take out. England wants to use the stones to build a new wall, so when they are pulled up they are stacked in another place.


There are two delightful little children running around, the older one--a little guy of about seven--and his littler sister, probably four. They are close under foot, and especially so when England tells them (in Azeri) that I am digging for gold. He soon told me that he had told them and we have a laugh at my expense. It really is nice working side-by-side with the Azerbaijanis, they are open and friendly and have a good sense of humor.


It is a really nice day for early February, the sun is shining and we are done at the Training House at noon. We walk home and have a small lunch, then get out in the back yard. Beloved is turning the ground over, dedicated to planting some vegetables soon. (We told Coffeeman about this, he is not so exited about it as we are--this is his house, but he is not here yet!) We are running the pump to fill the water tank on the top of the house, and it seems just right to lie down on the sidewalk that runs down the center of the yard and bask in the sunlight. It is about 55 degrees, maybe 60, and it feels wonderful to be outside.

Day 23 Friday

We have recently met a British couple and they have become friends. He is the director of a humanitarian outreach to underprivileged kids and young adults, the building they operate out of is just around the corner from our home. We went for a visit this morning and got the whole tour. They work mostly with orphans and teach them real-world skills that they probably would not get the opportunity to get otherwise. Basic computer skills, email, word, excell and even a little Photoshop. English language training. Basic carpentry and tool usage for the boys and carpet weaving for the girls. I suppose the boys could elect to go to this training as well but N says it is always exclusively the girls.


The carpet weaving is the most fascinating room to us, these are traditional, hand-woven rugs. (Don’t say Persian Rug--these are Azerbaijan Rugs) They have four looms there, two are very large and two are a bit smaller. Each one has a rug in various stages of completion, and they are amazingly beautiful. I suppose the fact that they are completely assembled by hand makes them more beautiful to me. We purchase one, a small sampler.


At the end of the visit N invites us to join them for dinner that evening, which we do. The talk is about life in Ganja, family--they have a year-old daughter that is keeping L occupied, and food. The dinner is an Indian dish with pumpkin, green peppers and curry over rice, which I was not sure that I would like, but I really did. They had a sweet sauce/jelly made from figs that I used like a sweet-and-sour sauce, which sounds strange but tasted good.

Day 22 Thursday

We’ve been here almost a month now, and I would say that we have a pretty good grasp on what it takes to live here, and we'll be fine.


However, there are a lot of things that are strange to me here, that are common to everyone living here--I suppose it is a factor of risk acceptance and sheer poverty that has caused conditions to be as they are. Add in a good-sized helping of dysfunctional government and crippling bureaucracy and you get the things I see every day. I wish I felt enough liberty to tell you about some of the more unsavory things here, but, since I cannot do much of anything to directly influence the issues, I will refrain from details that are, shall we say, unfortunate.


Strange to me that is common? Complete void of any traffic laws, especially speed limits in the city. Lane? Whats a lane? Most of the streets in this city are one-way, and the horn is used as a friendly signal that I am passing you. Three-wide? Sure. 55mph down a residential street? Sure. Oh, and busses are allowed to run the opposite way down a one-way, so be sure to look both ways before crossing a one-way street. And backing up 500 yards to turn on another street? Why not. I promise I will one day post some video, it’s as good as any race day.


Strange to me that is common? Park your car anywhere it will fit. Or anywhere it will almost fit. On the sidewalks. On the curb, half on the curb, in the street. In the middle of the street.

Strange to me that is common? Gas pipes. I’ve got to get some better photos of this one day, you won’t believe me just from reading this. I am not kidding, the natural-gas pipes that feed all the heating and cooking in this region are all over the place. Usually a five-inch pipe, laying on the ground or hanging on the sides of the buildings like strands of rope, passing over streets and alleys, and the individual feeds are one-inch pipe welded into the big pipe. Hmmm, support a five inch gas pipe every 30-40 feet? Sounds good to me... The welds look like they were done by a one-armed drunk man. At midnight. In the rain. While being attacked by a cat. 

Does this look safe to you?

Strange to me that is common? Electricity. I have at least six wiring connections in this house that are just twisted together--no wire nuts, no tape. I have seen this method of electrician work a hundred times. The main panel in this house has two breakers in it. I have no idea the amperage usage of this house, but the line coming in from the pole service is much much smaller than you would see in the USA. Perhaps it’s the 220 volt, but I would be surprised if it is a 12 gauge wire. I have seen several “blade” style switches, not one seemed safe. I have heard stories that as recent as five years ago men would pull out fuses and jam a piece of steel in it’s place--to the point of exploding transformers.

No, I don't see any problem...

I suppose I would blame all of this on a dysfunctional code-system--if there is any code at all. And bribing an inspector is not unheard of. There was a thirteen story building in Baku that collapsed while under construction, there was no steel or rebar in any of the concrete. It made a difference for a while--it killed a couple dozen men--but, like I said, most of this way of life is an acceptance of the risk of cutting corners, mostly because there is not enough money to do it right, and an acceptance of the fact that this is the way it’s been done for years. The Electricity works, mostly, and the gas works, mostly, so why invest the effort to do it any other way? No one cares. The government is not yet evolved enough to take interest in protecting its citizens. The recent events in Egypt prove that when the citizens get enough of an uncaring government things will change. Things here are crazy bad to a foreigner like me, but hey, I come from America.

Day 21 Wednesday

It's still cold here. Not quite as cold as the midwest, but cold. I found out some more about how our gas system works with regard to paying the bill. It seem that every month or so a man comes around and looks at the gas meter on the outside of your house. Then he rings the bell or raps on the door so you can bring out "the book." He writes the current meter reading in "the book" and signs it and you take "the book" down to the post office to pay the amount specified after the attendant takes a look at the numbers in "the book." So, now all I have to do is be here when the gas man comes around so he can write in "the book." Welcome to Azerbaijan.

Day 20 Tuesday #2

Okay, I got a little out of order because of my rant about the internet... Sunday night (Monday morning) about 12:30 was when the flame went out of the furnace, and it was also my brother’s birthday. That also was the day the internet was not working, at all. Sometimes it is inconsistent, or on-and-off, Monday I made a point of trying to call him on skype. Which I actually did--in my haste I mis-calculated the time-difference by eight hours and called him at 1:00 in the morning his time! But in the afternoon (which would have been his morning) the internet was dysfunctional.


So, Monday it was cold and we stayed around the house most of the day, working on projects for The Bank and our language lessons.  We went out to the market in the afternoon, which is actually a walk to three different places--the market, which is a small neighborhood store--more like a convenience store but you can’t buy gasoline there--where we can buy toilet paper and soap and rice and noodles and tea (actually you can buy tea about anywhere here) and potatoes. We walk to the bread bakery to buy hot, fresh out of the oven bread, which is why we walk there! And we walk to one other shop to buy meat. Actually this is the first time we have been to the butcher’s shop.


Note to visitors--the word for “shop” (butcher shop, shoe shop, tire shop) is pronounced seh-hee. It is spelled sexi. And you see it all over, so try to suppress all giggles--thanks.


The woman at the shop is very nice, we laugh about how much to purchase and the fact we don’t we speak each other’s language. The exchange is quite pleasant, although if you’ve never been to a third-world butcher shop it’s not for the faint of heart. Or stomach. (rabbit head on the floor, wood chopping block beyond description, plenty of blood. Sorry.) We asked for our meat to be ground, which she did right in front of us. We finished our transaction and headed home mouths’ watering in anticipation of our first Hamburger in more than three weeks.


We get home. I cut the bread for buns. Beloved is delicately fashioning beautiful patties. The stove is just the right temperature. The burgers are sizzling. The onion and mayonnaise and ketchup is ready. The burgers are really smelling bad. Bad bad. Like a cross between old shoes and burning tires. We open the window, surely our newly acquired ground beef cannot be making this hideous stench. Hmmm, what did we get anyway? Beloved, the brave one takes a couple of bites. It doesn’t taste any better than it smells. We need some more language training before we try that again...


Tuesday we have language lessons so we are reading through our lessons in the morning and preparing for that. We get out about 11:00 AM, I want to get to the Training House a little early to do some email, it is snowing as we walk. Take care of some business online and then language lesson. Afterward, discussing what may be the issue with my internet I figure out how to pay for it, so we’re off to the bank. It’s possible that the bill needs paid and it is shut off from the provider. We walk to the “UniBank” downtown and find a very nice young lady that speaks pretty good english, and she takes us through the process of paying our internet provider bill. Which, I find out, they do not send a bill for, and, if you wish, you can pay ahead for a couple months or six months or a year if you want. So, we pay for two months, and leave the UniBank wiser for the moment... “Internet will be turned on after one day”


On the way back home we decide to stop by Elegance Restaurant for dinner. We’ve been there twice now and had a great time both times, however, this time we do not find our friend, Farshid the head waiter, so we have to muddle through on our own with a young man that speaks no english. The food is good but not what we were expecting, Pita with cheese only--no meat or vegetables. Oh well.


The rest of the evening is quiet, I fire up the hot water heater and we will have hot baths tonight. While waiting for the water to heat up our landlord arrives to collect the rent--his name is Farid, which sounds like ferret. 


ps. now I am up to date on the blog and will be able to post in real time. Yay!