Friday April 15 The Hometown

Options abound back in the Hometown. It’s good to be back in the Midwest, things are easy and familiar here, no need of learning language or culture, favorite foods are present 24/7. 


However, it is not where we meant to be starting this adventure some hundred days ago. There are many answered questions, many decisions that have to be thought through and made, and not least of all, what to do with the experiences of the past hundred days. What is our role now? Do we still have an opportunity to make an impression on the landscape in Azerbaijan? We would sure like to...


Part of the answers are easy, we will live in Wichita, Kansas for now, I will go back to Spirit AeroSystems as a contractor and make some money, we will continue our relationships and friendships that we have here in the Hometown.


Other easy answers are, we will continue with our relationships and friendships that we have built in Ganja, Azerbaijan, we will see what we can do to help those that we have left behind in Azerbaijan fulfill what they have started and are working on there. It is the desire of our heart to funnel money into the Training House, they still need to finish some building projects to be able to apply for the legal registration, allowing them to grow.  It is the desire of our heart to help Coffeeman and his family get back to Ganja and open Shah Asari. It is the desire of our heart to return to Ganja at some point in time, and I imagine we will for sure take a short visit this fall, October or November. (You are welcome to join us if interested!)


The hard answers are how and when to best accomplish these things, or if there is a different plan altogether... We’ll see.


Friday is spent in getting back in touch with folks, family first of course, but also friends and associates. We also spend a little over an hour talking to our former mobile phone provider who failed to cancel our service back in January. It was a successful conversation, it just took some time.


We went to see mom, and she was delighted of course. We went to see B’s new house, and that was good as well. We also had a bit of business to take care of for our Canadian friends in Ganja, they had some documents that needed to be notarized and sent by courier to Alberta Canada, so we got to spend and hour or so with our friend the notary public and catching up on news. Talked with Tony out at Spirit and set the wheels in motion for my return out there. Talked to a couple of friends about some creative housing, more on that soon...


Went to lunch with A and B and A’s boyfriend Alex. We went to a familiar nationally known bistro restaurant and ate good American food and talked about everything. 


We borrowed a car from some dear friends of ours, so now we are a little more free.


We rounded out the day getting to bed about 11:00PM. We’ve been invited to breakfast tomorrow with some friends, and we will continue on the quest to put all the recent changes in perspective, and in order.

Day 68 Monday

More cement work at The Training house, today we are leveling the floor. We add about two inches to the south side of the room and make it all drain to the center of the room at the floor drain. Hopefully! 

We stop and clean up at noon, we have been invited to join England and Mrs. P. to a Novruz celebration by one of the teachers at The Training House and her mother. They are very sweet ladies, and it is an honor to be invited. We arrive and the table is beautiful. We are seated and the first dish is served, plov. It tastes better than that name sounds, it is a rice dish with chicken in a sweet sauce with vegetables and nuts. Then came the second dish, which I cannot remember the name of. It is rice, sausage and spices wrapped in a grape leaf and cooked. It has a super-strong flavor. Gulbanas would not stop dishing these onto my plate, I ate about seven of them! Then the bread, then the salad, then the dessert, then the nuts and candy, then the chi (tea)--I have not eaten so much in my entire time here in Azerbaijan. It was a wonderful time!


We choose to go back to the Training House one more time, there is only about two hours left until dark, but we need to continue our floor-leveling work.


It is dark by the time Beloved and I leave the Training House, it is lightly raining but we want to see some of the bonfires that we know will be burning on the way home. It is about twenty minutes walk home, and we do get to see numerous fires and gatherings.


About 100 yards from our house is the taxi stand, we walk past it almost every day and have made a friend of one of the taxi drivers, Rassim. He knows N&L and The Coffeeman and we have used his services several times now. He is there tonight, talking with several other men, a couple are preparing a comparatively small fire. We are motioned over, and after the greetings all around are finished we are encouraged to jump over the fire. This is a local tradition, and we are happy to oblige. It is a nice connection point and can do nothing but increase our sincerity in the eyes of these people.

Day 47 Monday

Day 47, wow. Sometimes it seems as though the time here is standing still and other times it seems to fly by. I guess today it seems as though we have been here for a while.


Something to do with that might be the fact that we have not seen the sun in eight days. No sun at all. Overcast, grey, occasional light rain and snow flurries. Reminds me of a crazy movie called Groundhog Day--the story of a weatherman stuck in one day, February 2, over and over again. How's the weather? Cold and grey... How's the weather? Cold and grey... How's the weather? Cold and grey...


I crossed an interesting milestone today--in 46 days now we have eclipsed 1000 page-hits on this blog. I am humbled and honored, thank you. I didn't know I was so interesting.


Spent almost two hours this morning troubleshooting a newly-acquired printer. I was at the Bank last Friday and had asked England if he know where I might get a printer. Nothing fancy needed, just want to be able to print out some of the things that I have been designing. Sometimes it's easier to judge the quality of a design when you can hold it in your hands. Anyway, England said he had one for me, it's an HP color laser. Well, that ought'a do! The printer belongs to the bank, so as long as I am doing work for the bank I have access to this printer. And since I am doing most of my work at the house right now, the printer came to the house. Trouble is, it wasn't working properly. I tried it on the network, nothing. I tried it on a USB cable and it would communicate, but only enough to prompt an error message. I bet I cycled the on-off switch 45 times before giving in. I called England and he offered, "I have a different cable for you to try," and that was the issue. We are now printing in color, hooray.


We have been having great fun cooking semi-elaborate dishes and having friends over to help us eat them, so we made American-style Chinese Sweet-and-Sour Chicken over fried rice (of course!) for dinner tonight. Actually Beloved started on the preparations at noon and the sauce at about 2:00, so by the time our guests arrived at 7:30 we had been cooking more than six hours. Not really cooking for six hours but it sure seemed like Beloved had been in the kitchen all day.


Just before our guests arrived at 7:30 we had an hour-long conversation (via skype, don't you love skype?) with Coffeeman and his wife. And the two year old, but that doesn't really factor into this conversation. More than anything else they wish to be back in Ganja. We really wish they were here too, but there will be some things that have to happen with the development of Shah Asari before they get back here. We talked about several options and plans for implementing the website as a vehicle to sell artwork, so hopefully 2011 will be a year of great growth for Coffeeman and Shah Asari and we can see them back in Ganja before too long. 


So our guests arrived, Indy and Manchester, and we all laughed and ate and talked and ate some more. For Indy it was the first Chinese food of any kind she'd had in six months. Beloved is a great cook and it was a lot of fun! We rounded out the long evening watching an old favorite, You've Got Mail with Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan.


Good Times.

Day 2 Friday

England had informed us the day before that he would pick us up at about 10:30 and we would be introduced around at The Bank then we would work on getting registered with the Police. Apparently they like to keep tabs on their visitors, mostly making sure that foreigners abiding in a rented house are there with the owners permission. We drive about five minutes in a big square, making three right-hand turns to be able to approach and park on the one-way street that The Bank is on. We enter the administrative office side and are introduced a very polite woman, I will one day know how to pronounce her name. England asks us to sit and visit while he makes out a letter of reference for the police and then we will continue with the proceedings. The bank official speaks pretty good english so we are able to learn a few things about her and The Bank.


The Bank is a Norwegian venture, started about 12 years ago as a humanitarian project in Azerbaijan. It is a micro-finance lending institution, not really a bank as they do not accept any deposits, only loans for small business use. The average loan is between 1,000 and 2,000 manat, thought they are looking to increase this figure. They have about seven-million manat out annually, with a less than one-half of one percent default ratio. It has been a very successful operation, with five branches in Azerbaijan and looking to open a sixth this year.


If everything works as planned this will be my office as well, and I am shown the desk that will be mine. However, England’s plan for me is about 12 hours of actual work and 28 hours of language and culture learning each week for the first year. Then I will be of better value. Part of the job will include visiting each of the sites, so there will be some opportunity to see most of the nation of Azerbaijan.


England is done with his letter and we walk over to the operations side of the bank, and are introduce to more people whose names I will be able to pronounce and spell later, including the president of the branch, a man of great depth and warmth, I look forward to getting to know this fine gentleman and talking with him more.


We are also introduced to “The Lawyer.” A former policeman, Gasham is a formidable presence. 6’0”, 260 lbs, this is someone I am glad to have on our side, his function is collections and conflict resolution. He will be handling the footwork for our registration with the police. He is polite and gregarious, good natured and a little bit loud. He would be completely frightening if you owed him money, I like him immediately. He is called “The Lawyer” because if he cannot resolve the collection through negotiation he will turn you over to be sued in the courts. Gotta love it.


We also meet a delightful woman, the Human Resources manager and general operations manager. She speaks very good english, and she will be helping us as well. Some discussion has been made between the Lawyer, the HR woman and England, and it is concluded that Gasham is going to work on this until such time as our presence is needed, if we can take care of ourselves, we shall reconvene at 2:00 at The Bank.


We departed the bank walking back towards home, stopping at the market, needing toilet paper and sugar. The TP was easy enough to find, but the sugar was not presenting itself in any immediately recognizable fashion, so we resorted to asking. I don’t know if I have stated it before, but we tried this a few times in Estonia to much frustration. The Estonians seemed put out that they should help you discover what you want, almost as if to say, “You don’t speak our language, you must be stupid. Quit bothering me...” The Azeri’s are almost the opposite. We did not know the Azeri word for sugar, nor the Russian word, but, after we got directed to soup, by the time we had four smiling clerks jabbering amongst themselves we got sugar! Everyone was laughing and smiling, and it was an enjoyable exchange.


At two o'clock we met back at the bank and it was determined that we needed to go get photographs for the Police department to have on hand for the registration. So we get in the car with the HR woman (man I wish I could remember her name!) and drive into town to the photo studio. In less than ten minutes we have the requisite photos, with the proper red background, and we get back to the bank. We get to look at some email while we are waiting on the next task, and Beloved has a nice conversation with one of the staff workers. She excuses that her english is “not very good” but it is adequate enough. At 4:30 we are told that some documents have to be acquired from the landlord and we will finish up on Monday. 


On the way home we pass another smaller market which has eggs in a box at the front of the store. Another pleasant exchange with a friendly shopkeeper. We go home and have eggs for dinner with a little fresh bread and tea, and decide it is time to learn how to make hot water.


**Disclaimer** Any descriptive terms that follow are not meant to be derogatory, only a depiction of what we are encountering. Please understand that we are adventurers and WE LOVE THIS LIFE and chose it knowing full well what we might encounter. Our tolerance for the out-of-the-ordinary is very high, and we are having a great time! Some people would find this a hardship, we find it a thrill.


The hot water heater is a tank of unknown origin about 15 inches in diameter and five foot tall. The directions we have gotten from The Coffeeman is to light it and wait, but don’t let it run for more than an hour without running hot water in the house or you’ll boil the water in the pipes. There is no thermostat or throttle, just a valve for the gas. It gets lit, we wait, we enjoy a bath and being warm all the way through for the first time in Azerbaijan, and get to bed about 9:30.

Day 1 Thursday

**Disclaimer** Any descriptive terms that follow are not meant to be derogatory, only a depiction of what we are encountering. Please understand that we are adventurers and WE LOVE THIS LIFE and chose it knowing full well what we might encounter. Our tolerance for the out-of-the-ordinary is very high, and we are having a great time! Some people would find this a hardship, we find it a thrill.


The flight from Moscow into Azerbaijan was uneventful, Aeroflot again, and the same meal we had coming over. Sat next to a gentleman from Morocco, he was very nice. He is traveling to Baku to be a referee in a Taekwondo match in Baku. There are about ten young men of oriental descent on the plane too, we assume they are going to the same event.


  We passed through a cloud layer  at about 4,000 feet and got our first look at the city of Baku, at about 12:30AM. Lights of a city, and a river running through it. Before too long the outline of the Caspian Sea came into view, and then we were turning out over the water. A good landing, toward the north, and then taxi-back on the runway to the south end, turning off to the left and parking. We are now arrived, it is about 12:50--ten minutes late. We are wanting to not keep our man waiting, so we are working to get out of the airplane as quickly as possible, and I was a bit concerned about the general nature of these people as we deplane, this particular group is very pushy and crowding to get off the plane as well, no politeness displayed here. But Beloved’s “please!!” stopped the tired travelers and a space opened up, and closed just as quickly in a press behind us.


Approaching the door of the aircraft (an Airbus A320) we see not a jetway but a stairway, and we are going down to the pavement and getting on a bus. A short ride over to the terminal, the Baku airport is tiny. Through the door into a low-ceilinged room about 40x60 feet, this is passport control. Three open lanes for nationals, one lane for visitors. (And one desk for diplomats, which is manned though I do not see anyone go to this desk) Our first greeting walking onto this room is cigarette smoke, and three or four men standing around smoking and talking. Welcome to Azerbaijan.


Beloved is first up to the passport control desk, the young lady calls for another officer to look at her passport. Shortly enough we figure out that her picture on the passport is just different enough that they want to really scrutinize it. So what if it was taken six years ago when her hair was really short? And who looks like their passport photograph after 30 hours of traveling? We get through okay and over to the baggage conveyor. I pulled out my phone considering taking some photographs, but quickly thought better of it. We are fresh in the country in the middle of the night and they already think Beloved’s passport is fake--better not do anything that would garner any more attention!


We collected  the luggage just fine, everything made it okay and no evidence of tampering. Following the locals through the short hall out to the real would I am requested to send the three bags I am carrying through the detectors. Okay. The man running the machine is completely engaged in a conversation with another cigarette-smoking man and seems irritated that the officer would interrupt him to look at the monitor. Down the belt they guy does not slow his animated conversation at all, the bags spit out the other end and I pick them up, and we are officially walking into the Republic of Azerbaijan.


Ten steps in we quickly recognize The Canadian, a gentleman we had met at the Business Meeting in Colorado back in November. He greets us, and his driver, and gets us to the car. It is now after 1:20 in the morning after a long, long series of flights and airport waits, so the drive to his apartment is a bit of a blur. The taxi driver is driving like a taxi driver, and though there is practically no one on the roads in this middle of the night he is still racing down the lanes and “short-cutting” through a maze of parking areas and alleyways like a crazy man. The Canadian apologizes for this, “force of habit I suppose,” he says.


**Disclaimer** Any descriptive terms that follow are not meant to be derogatory, only a depiction of what we are encountering. Please understand that we are adventurers and WE LOVE THIS LIFE and chose it knowing full well what we might encounter. Our tolerance for the out-of-the-ordinary is very high, and we are having a great time! Some people would find this a hardship, we find it a thrill.


The Canadian lives in an apartment building of Soviet origin, the stairway is filthy and smells bad and thank God he is only on the third floor. We get in his apartment which is actually quite nice, where his wife and daughter are sleeping, and offers us a shower or bath before bed, yes, that would be nice. A very primitive space, we are reminded of the Soviet style of infrastructure--if you want hot water, as long as you get hot water who cares what you have to go through to get it, right? There is a box on the wall, about the size of a desktop computer. The Canadian opens a panel and asks me if I would assist him, please turn on the hot water handle at the lavatory when I say, okay? Okay... Apparently it is an on-demand type water heater, but if the water flow is interrupted the fire goes out. He gets it running on the third attempt and proclaims it ready, just don’t turn off the hot-water faucet until you are done. Great. Four minutes later when Beloved is ready to get in the shower--no hot water. So much for a nice shower before bed...


There was conversation on the ride home about getting into Ganja the following day, so after about 5 hours of sleep we rise and prepare to get to Ganja. The Canadian’s wife and daughter are up and around in the morning, and I am able to send a couple emails and skype to my mom while Beloved is talking to the wife and preparing some breakfast. The taxi driver is back at about 8:35AM and we are off for the bus station.  Oops, a look came over the drivers face, as he realized he missed the exit, so he smiles and backs down over a quarter mile exit to reach the road with the bus station. 


The Canadian asks what we have planned for the journey, “I guess we were going to get on a bus, that is what The Coffeeman had recommended and offered no alternatives other than to say the train was a prohibitively long trip. What would you do?” “I would hire a taxi to go the whole way.”  And the decision was probably a good one based on our lack of familiarity with anything Azerbaijan, mostly the language. Some negotiations were made and we were introduced to our next taxi driver, a greying-haired man of about 60. He is cordial and polite, a couple of gold-capped teeth in his smile.


We bid The Canadian and driver thank-you and goodbye, and set off toward Ganja, our new city of abode for the foreseeable future.


**Disclaimer** Any descriptive terms that follow are not meant to be derogatory, only a depiction of what we are encountering. Please understand that we are adventurers and WE LOVE THIS LIFE and chose it knowing full well what we might encounter. Our tolerance for the out-of-the-ordinary is very high, and we are having a great time! Some people would find this a hardship, we find it a thrill.


Driving in the rest of the world cannot barely be comprehended if you’ve never been there. There are very few signs regarding speed limits, one-way streets, street names, etc., and one traffic signal I saw looked like it was lit with 25 watt bulbs. I guess it’s okay because the drivers never seem to notice them anyway. If there is a space that you think you can wedge your car through, give it a try. Intersections? Cars turn two and three wide at a time. U-turns, passing, parking, these are all based on whatever the driver thinks he can get away with. It is a good thing I am tired, it is easy to close my eyes! Baku is a dirty, smoky, bustling city of crumbling buildings and new construction that looks like it will be crumbling soon. Tight winding streets choked with people and trash and all manner of vehicles ranging from scooters to ancient autos, dirty busses and huge transport trucks all honking and crowding for their space. Throw in a few dogs and a couple cows per mile and you begin to get the picture.


Soon enough the traffic is thinning and we are out of the city. We pass some landmarks and the taxi driver is valiant in his effort to explain what we are seeing, even trying in Russian. Beloved knows just enough Russian to be dangerous, and soon the driver thinks we can understand what he is talking about, so I fake sleep until the real thing takes over. The drive is about 5-6 hours depending on how fast you want to travel, and our driver is determined to make it in five.


We soon fall into this pace and the road is not terrible, and I think the taxi driver begins to understand that we do not really get all that much that he is talking about, so his quantity of conversation recedes a bit, however he remains completely polite.  I am not sure of the conversion rate, but there were many times that the we were running 160 kilometers-per-hour and I think the posted limit was 90. We slowed several times and he would point out that there was a remote detection station (a camera and a radar gun on a pole), other times we would see the officers standing beside their car. If they pointed the baton at you, that’s it, you’ve been gotten. Which did happen to us one time. This did not seem to phase the taxi driver, he was just as polite as ever afterward, and it did not seem to affect his driving afterwards either!


At some point about two-thirds way along he stopped and motioned us into a nicer-looking road side restaurant. We followed, and the only ones inside were the owners and two cleaning ladies. All were extremely polite and welcoming, even to the point of taking Beloved back into the kitchen to point out what she might like to have to eat. Very patient and accommodating.


**Disclaimer** Any descriptive terms that follow are not meant to be derogatory, only a depiction of what we are encountering. Please understand that we are adventurers and WE LOVE THIS LIFE and chose it knowing full well what we might encounter. Our tolerance for the out-of-the-ordinary is very high, and we are having a great time! Some people would find this a hardship, we find it a thrill.


I will take just a moment to speak about the toilets--such as it were... We were pointed toward a door, and Beloved and I both entered, with the taxi driver and one of the cleaning ladies, four closets, quite private actually, and quite clean, but once entered into these little rooms one thing became immediately apparent-there was no commode. Nice shiny tile, with foot spaces, and a hole. And the picture will fill in the other thousand words. Welcome to Azerbaijan.


The owners and workers were entirely helpful and pleasant, and everybody smiled and laughed as we tried to understand each other. We got some photographs of them, and they thought that was good, though they did not understand what we were asking when we offered to send them by email. Perhaps one day we will stop again and share them face to face. The meal was simple but good, the taxi driver eating far more than we. We had bread and good butter that we thought was cheese and the tea was delicious. Not sure of how or what to pay, the taxi driver motioned to us that he had the bill.


At the outset of our journey we had given the taxi driver $60 US, and he gave us back ten manat, the local currency. The manat exchanges about 1 manat equals $1.25. We had stopped once about midway and made our first Azerbaijani transaction, a purchase of two cans of pop--orange Fanta. (From a small roadside stand that looked like it had sat beside the road for months, the can was filthy and the toothless salesman did not offer to clean the top off where you drink from. I didn’t even drink of it) So I only had eight manat. The taxi driver stopped a little before arriving in Ganja at a bank and I was able to withdraw 100 manat from an ATM, and the taxi driver and I figured out that if I gave him one of the 20’s he would give me back 8 and lunch would be square.


As we arrived into Ganja, the taxi driver began chattering more and more, and pulled off the roadway into a small parking area to show us the tomb of Nizami and a wall of statues depicting scenes from Ganja’s ancient past. It was a somber and quiet but beautiful place. I am glad to have been able to see these monuments.


As we pull into the city proper the taxi driver is on the phone, we assume to England, and we drive toward the center, pulling into a cacophony of taxis, stopping of course in the middle of the street. Horns blaring and men standing about in huddles of three or four, many smoking, they are all dressed nearly alike. Black or charcoal grey pants, black leather shoes of European style, and black coats. Most of the taxis are Lada’s, the ubiquitous Russian car.  There is the occasional Mercedes and BMW, but they are few and far between, and stand out like a pearl in the pig-pen. One thing to note about the majority of the Lada’s--they are kept in a very good shape. Most are very straight, no rust, and a very sharp paint job, exhibiting an obvious pride in ownership. These people are not lazy concerning their cars, they seem to be fairly self-respecting.


England pulls up a couple minutes later, just as the stares were really becoming pronounced, it felt as if a UFO had landed and we had jumped out of the ship. I had never yet met England, and I wouldn’t have been able to pick him out of a line-up even though we had spoken numerous times. All of a sudden we are face to face, and, since the cars are parked in the middle of the street, the greetings are fairly quick and we bid our generous taxi driver goodbye.


England drives a Mitsubishi pickup truck, but does not seem like a pickup truck guy. In fact, “guy” is not really a good description at all, he is a proper British  gentleman. Short, compact stature and soft-spoken, extremely polite but not out-going, simple and practical. This, he explained is why the truck was a practical choice, the poor roads and the occasional need to carry things to-and-fro. He appears to be a very sharp individual, and I think I am going to like him.


He doesn’t speak a lot, but shows us a couple points of interest on the way to The Training House, as well as practical landmarks for navigating the small city. He has explained that our arrival is a little sooner than he had expected, he has a meeting in a few minutes, would we mind stopping by The Training House for about 45 minutes prior to getting on to our house? Okay, no problem.


The Training House is another of England’s projects, over 200 students are enrolled in various stages of learning the English language. We park (again, Azerbaijan style which is half on the curb and half on the sidewalk) and transfer the luggage from the bed of the truck into the cab of the truck so that we might be assured of it’s presence when we return, and walk through the gate. The Training House is a two-story building in various stages of repair, but serviceable. We go up to the second floor and into a big room, there are several people there, all very friendly, and smiling with an innocent curiosity. We are introduced and given into the care of a national whose name I cannot remember at this moment. England disappears to his meeting, and we are politely asked if we would be willing to be interviewed by a class of students? Of course.


We enter a smaller adjacent room and the instructor introduces us and excuses herself. We are facing ten or twelve 18 and 19 year old english students, young men and women. They are nervously giggling as we go through fairly simple questions like, “What is your name? Where are you from? Do you have and children?” It is very interesting, and these young people are very friendly as we share some culture and speak to them in english.


After about ten minutes we are collected and taken to another room to do the same thing, to a more advanced class of students, mostly 19 to 22 years old. These are all college students of various fields, an electrical engineering student, a couple of students training to teach and even a heart doctor. Their questions begin similarly then advance to more cultural questions like, “What do you do with leisure time? How much money does a teacher make in the USA? Why are you here? Do you like us?” It was a fascinating half-hour.


England comes back, and introduces us to his wife, Mrs. P. and the rest of the staff of five, I think. Quick greetings and then we are off to our house. We drive up a one-way street and past The Bank (which I will tell about more soon) and to our house. The four locations that will make up our world for the next little bit are all located on this one-way street, all within about 20 minutes walking distance from the furthest point. Our House, The Bank, England’s House, and The Training House, in that order. 


We arrive at the house, turning into an alley and parking. The entrance is through a small metal door in a wall, and into a big courtyard with grapevines and a couple of pomegranate trees. Plenty of room for a garden too. The house appears from the outside to be pretty big, and as we walk in, it proves to be so.


**Disclaimer** Any descriptive terms that follow are not meant to be derogatory, only a depiction of what we are encountering. Please understand that we are adventurers and WE LOVE THIS LIFE and chose it knowing full well what we might encounter. Our tolerance for the out-of-the-ordinary is very high, and we are having a great time! Some people would find this a hardship, we find it a thrill.


The house is cold, so the first thing upon entering is to light one of the several heaters. The first one we encounter, in the big room, is a smallish, cast iron box with a gas pipe running into it. There is no pilot, nor thermostat, the operational basics are, “turn the valve on and light it.” The valve is not real sensitive and England gets a nice “phoomph” as the gas ball ignites. Gotta love it. This is the only one England lights, “Right. You can figure out the rest?” “Of course we can, no problem.” This turns out to be the typical situation with all the heaters in the house, turn the valve and light it, including the water heater. No thermostats, no safety valve if the fire goes out, just on or off. Welcome to Azerbaijan.


It is now 4:30PM and has been a long day. England, politely asking if we can fend for ourselves for a couple hours, invites us to dinner at his house and states he’ll be back in a couple hours. We light another stove and explore our new abode, which is actually The Coffeeman’s house. He has lived several years in this house and has gotten to know it’s idiosyncrasies. It is a big old house, the ceilings are about eleven feet, it is built like an arts-and-crafts house with a central hall and four big rooms at each corner, and a big room on the back with the bath and kitchen at each end. It is sturdy but drafty--big single pane windows in three of the four rooms. The east wall is shared with another building and has no windows. The back room, the room we first entered off the courtyard and the one we spend most of our time in , is almost floor-to-ceiling windows and the door does not close well. All of the rooms inter-connect, so each room has three doorways, one to the hall, and one to each adjacent room. All the doors are double doors, and the doors onto the hallway and kitchen have windows in them. All the ceilings are high, and all the floors are wood, though not what you would think a wood floor to look like, rather a thin plywood that has been painted a deep shade of reddish-brown.


We pick a room and make it our own, not changing anything except the position of the bed knowing that this is not our long-term house, just a landing spot. We laugh and smile at each other, we are living what we have dreamed of for more than a year now, and every experience--however crazy--is a delight. The house is drafty, the infrastructure primitive, the methods are crude and unrefined, and we are having the time of our lives.


England arrives back about 6:30 and we go to his house for dinner, fish and potatoes and peas, and apple pie for dessert. England’s wife is not England, but is from Sri Lanka, I think. They are very pleasant people and we are going to like them. They have two polite children, and our time visiting is enjoyable. We write a couple emails and skype to The Coffeeman for a little more information on how the water heater works, and then back to the house.


It is still chilly but it is beginning to warm up, we climb into bed under three or four blankets and quickly fall to sleep. It has been a long and full day 1.

"I think we're going to make it after all"

Yes sports fans, this is a 90-day, double entry visa from the Republic of Azerbaijan.


So, I guess we are ready to go, the airline tickets have been settled for January 11 departure, and this document firmly affixed in our passports should get us through the gate. I spoke with our contact in Ganja, he said he is happy we are still coming to Azerbaijan. Apparently this type of thing is enough to dissuade others from following through on plans to visit/live in the country. He further commented that "it will not be too hot when you arrive." I am still pondering if this is his sense of humor or perhaps he likes the cold...?


Things are going well with the long-term visa acquisition as well, England, the gentleman I will be working for, has instructed me to obtain some letters of reference (since I am not a degreed person) stating my proficiency in marketing--it will be easier to procure a work permit for a marketing director rather than just a graphic artist or even designer. Gathering the letters of recommendation will be no problem, I already have three and will have another three or four by the time we depart.


A couple new things for Shah Asari, we have some "limited edition" coffee mugs now, the Coffeeman will be sending them around to his supporters and I have a few as well. We also have done a printed piece as well, so, along with the website we are beginning to get the word out about the coffee shop/cultural center, in the USA anyway. The Coffeeman and his family are really wanting to get back to Azerbaijan, they have been living out of a suitcase for more than a year now. Congratulations to them on the recent arrival of their son, I wish I could remember his name!


I've been staying plenty busy here in the Hometown, painting some signs and doing some electronic design as well for the Salesman. He has landed a contract in Kansas City that should keep us busy for a while, so that is good news. Still doing two days a week for Spirit, and enjoying that.

Christmas holiday is coming up soon, the kids will join us at the cabin. I got a new lens for the camera (Merry Christmas to me) so I am hoping to be able to post some more photos soon. Then we fly down to Florida on January 4th and on the plane to Azerbaijan on the 11th. 

More later!

Visa Update

It's been a couple weeks now since my last post so I think it is time for an update. A lot has been going on in recent weeks, and one of the crazy things about this delay we've been in is that we have been able to take advantage of a couple things that we would have missed out on.


One of the more significant events that we were sad about missing--had we taken off for Azerbaijan on October 19--was a meeting of business people hosted by The Connector. This forum was held in Colorado Springs, and was delightful. We heard from several businessmen that are operating such operations as translation services, training companies, book sellers, travel and resorts, all sorts of people. There were men and women from the USA, Canada, Norway, Azerbaijan and others.


It was very insightful to sit and hear strategies and concepts about operating small businesses in Azerbaijan. I sat next to an older gentleman from Southern Azerbaijan, he spoke very little English. However, he was respectful and genuinely glad to be in America spending time with foreigners (to him) that want to help his nation prosper and see new concepts.


We also got to spend some time with The Coffeeman. It's always nice to see him, we have a great time together. We had produced a flyer for this conference, he had it printed and brought it with him. It turned out nice and was well received.


One neat bonus of this conference was that it was that it was held  in Colorado Springs, right at the base of Pikes Peak and a fe minutes from a National Park called "Garden of the Gods." If you ever are in the area and get the opportunity to tour this park, do so. It is not huge, and even a couple hours will give you a really neat experience. These rock formations are fascinating and I encourage you to see them if you can.


One other event that we, or at least I was happy to have been able to take part in was an annual event in my Hometown, a motorcycle toy run. This is a motorcycle rally held each year to raise funds and donate toys for under privileged kids. My daughter A shares my love of motorcycles so she joined me on the run. There were over three-thousand motorcycles on this beautiful Sunday afternoon, it was huge fun to be part of.


Today we sent off our passports to the Azerbaijan embassy in Washington DC with our visa applications. We had met an American gentleman at the forum who showed us his recently acquired 90 day tourist visa. We are hopeful that this will be the last step that getting out of the country now. We have our airline tickets set, and we will know in about 14 days if we have visas to enter the country of Azerbaijan.


More later!

Homeless and Jobless

Well, maybe not as bad as all that.


It's been a couple weeks now since we've gotten back to the Hometown. Welcome back to the midwest, what to do now after all the big "good-byes" have been said? "Oops, we will be here a little while longer..."


We arrived back after our departure-turned-into-vacation from Florida and immediately began to seek ways to become useful and at the same time gainfully (self) employed. I have not worked full time for myself in almost six years, but as a commercial artist I have been doing side-work for some time, so now it was time to turn side-work into real work. Fortunately, since we do not have a mortgage to pay, we are not needing to make particularly huge sums of money to live on. Also, there are any number of dear friends that are making the rounds of, "come stay with us for a few days." We are somewhat of a celebrity, or perhaps at least an oddity, it seems that moving to the middle east by choice these days requires a lot of explaining.


So, some background may be appropriate at this juncture.


I am now 45 years old, and have been in the commercial art field my entire working life. I had started out wanting to be a technical illustrator, but while waiting for a job opening I got a job at a small sign shop. It was there that I fell in love with the written letter, and was trained as a sign painter. I worked solely as a signwriter for 13 years, then made a move to Tulsa, Oklahoma and spent most of my time there behind a computer doing printed-page design and layout.


While in Tulsa I became acquainted with a gentleman working in Tallinn, Estonia. Looking for a change of pace and a new opportunity, we took advantage of an offer to move to northern Europe and lived and worked in Estonia for three years, 2000-2003. My wife and I had travelled to Europe several times, to England, France, Finland, and then Lithuania twice. We liked the Baltic States so the move to Estonia was a wonderful time for the four of us, out children being with us in the move.


Coming back to the USA in the fall of 2003, I started working for the Boeing Company as a contract graphic artist in 2004. Boeing sold its Wichita plant in 2005, and I was offered a full-time position as a graphic designer with the new company, Spirit AeroSystems.  I worked for Spirit for five years and loved every minute of it.

As an occasional signwriter I was keeping my skills up and charging as much as I liked--a nice by-product of not relying on it to make my living. Perhaps because hand lettering is more of a specialty these days I have been blessed to be able to charge a premium and get it. So, I have been doing a fair amount of lettering and pinstriping and getting a good return on it. And I love doing it.


I also have been doing typesetting and ad design on pharmacy bags for The Salesman pretty regularly now. It's good work and we are able to do it anywhere we can get an internet connection, so we will be doing this work for some time to come. There are also some other electronic design work coming around, so we are confident that we will not be checking in at the homeless shelter any time soon.

We are not really homeless anyway, its just that our house is not in the Hometown. It is about two hours drive south of here. We were invited two years ago now to visit a friend in a smallish cabin community north of Oklahoma City, Oklahoma. I'm not an Okie, but we really enjoyed this little place on the river. We enjoyed it so much that when Todd told us of a place for sale, and asked us if we might be interested, we purchased our own little cabin by the river. We call it Serenity. We own it outright, and the cost of keeping it are very minimal. We just spent five days down there and it is a wonderful place to get away from it all.


We are back in the Hometown tonight, getting ready to accomplish some work that we've lined up tomorrow. We are here until Tuesday, November 2, election day. On Tuesday, after we vote out all the bad guys and vote in all the new good ones, we are driving to Colorado Springs to take part in a conference on Azerbaijani Business Interests. We are really excited to be able to attend this conference, we went to the same event last year in Minnesota, and a number of individuals that were there last time will be there again. It will be a nice opportunity to re-acquaint with other like-minded business people. The Coffeeman will also be there. With regard to him, we just established our website for The Business, and that is an exciting milestone.


Work continues for The Business, Shah Asari, which means, "Masterpiece." The Business will be a cultural center of sorts, 30% art presentation display gallery, 30% family-friendly gathering space, and 40% coffee shop. Coffee is still a relatively new beverage for this tea-based culture, so we are hopeful that the coffee shop will be the income generating arm in the beginning. We are also hopeful that the gallery will draw local artisans and customers/collectors to the space and eventually outpace the coffee shop income. The other arm of the Business is to establish a space where women and women with children are accepted on equal terms with all patrons. The Coffeeman, a resident of this Azerbaijan city of 300,000 does not know of one. There are a couple that are women-only, so we are seeking to present a place where all are welcome, and all are respected.


So, I am exited to see what next week brings in regard to what the other expatriate Azerbaijan business people are doing about the visa situation and how to get one. Ill be sure to let you know.

Welcome to Azerbaijan... or not

So my good friend says to me, “You didn’t think it would be easy, did you?”  Well, I thought I might at least get to the country before seeing a challenge or two. I guess it’s not an adventure if everything goes as planned...

This is the first post of our adventures in the middle eastern nation of Azerbaijan. Counting down the days until we arrive in-country, I was going to do something cool in the title like, “Day One minus 12...” we were (are) holding airline tickets to arrive in Baku, Azerbaijan on October 19, 2010. That title, of course, is reliant upon the fact that we do indeed arrive on October 19. However, that fact has now become history, so I had to go with the other cool title that now sits atop this post.


My Beloved and I have been planning a move out of the country for some time now. We have done our research, made contacts, we have sacrificed and saved and made arrangements for this move. I resigned my job at the end of September and we’ve been renting a house in anticipation of leaving on this date. 


So two months ago we purchased airline tickets to AZ, departing out of Orlando, Florida. The plan was to take one last road trip with the kids, A & B, to Florida and spend time with them as well as Beloved’s parents before exiting the country. Kid B secured time off from his work and the plan was set in motion. (Kid A couldn’t get quite as much time off and will be flying down to join us) After a joyous farewell they would drive back to The Hometown and we would jump on the 747 and send them an email when we arrive.


That was the plan, the rest of the story goes like this.


Wednesday morning, Oct 6, our last day in The Hometown. I awoke to a text from The Coffeeman, a partner in our still-forming business, Sha Asari. The text says, “call me when you’ve read the email from England.” England is the gentleman that runs The School. The School was to be our first employer over there, trading instruction of English for learning the Azerbaijani language. Their tested and true method of entrance into the country was to arrive in Baku, purchase a 30-day tourist visa then work out the details to acquire a one-year work-permit and visa.


This plan, it seems, is no longer viable.


The email from England stated that one of their recently arrived instructors--going through this exact method--had been denied application for the one-year visa and was going to have to leave the country while this was all being sorted out. The email also stated that England was “concerned” that our entrance into the country was now impossible, for the time being anyway, and that we should “consider” postponing our travel plans for a couple months to see how it all washes out.


I was unable to speak to The Coffeeman, he was taking his kids to school. I called another dear friend, The Connector, a 15 year veteran of Azerbaijan, and though now a resident of the USA he is still a frequent visitor to the nation, and I forwarded to him England's email.


The Connector read the email with interest and knowingly uttered, “yeah, I thought they might get to this point...” It seems that the Department of Foreign Affairs and the Office of Immigration have been fighting over who will get to do what job, and in a massive power struggle have made things difficult on a lot of folks that would like to come visit their dear country.


The Connector's other insight was the use of England's words, "consider," and "concerned." "I've seen England and his wife boldly walk into things that would make others run away screaming, so if he says he's concerned, you better take that as a huge red flag, and my opinion would be that you postpone your departure for a couple months to see how this all shakes out."


When I eventually spoke to the Coffeeman, his opinion was the same.


So, that is what we're going to do, we will wait a couple months. It's not what we wanted to do, but we will make some research into what's going on and we will get there eventually.


Welcome to Azerbaijan, just not yet.