Day 88 Sunday

Woke up early again, I guess I'm kind of jittery about our impending departure, so I grabbed the camera and headed out the door about 7:20 AM. It is getting light and it looks like it will be fairly clear. 


I get to walk around my neighborhood and down toward the river for the last time (for a while) and think back on the past three months' adventures here in Azerbaijan.

We will be back, I’m sure, just not sure when or for how long. We would like to be able to return in the fall, September or October, (even if it is just for a couple of weeks) to continue our friendships and relationships with those that we have gotten to know in our short time here. 


The nation of Azerbaijan is populated with wonderfully kind people. They are interesting, engaging, and curious. Open and warm, I have only once encountered a shop-keeper that was rude. We have been welcomed like no where I’ve ever been even though we know little of the language.

200 pieces of Bread in a Lada

The common workman is hard-working and inventive, although tending to be a little lazy in the area of excellence. There is a purvasive attitude of “good-enough” that appears to be the standard. Many things here are cobbled together--if it works, it’s good enough. Is it safe? No, but it works. Is it astheticly pleasing? No, but it works. Will it break soon? Yes, but they will patch it back together again and there will be gas or water or electricity again for a few more weeks...


I have had very little experience with the government sector here other than my dealings with the Police and the Immigration Department. These too, can be likened to the labor of the worker--they appear to create bottlenecks rather than create freedom in order to retain power over those that they govern. It appears to me that the government has lost any sense that they are the employees of the people. 


A couple cases in point; The nation of Azerbaijan took and initiative in response to the recent uprisings in Egypt--they switched around a bunch of mayors. I guess they can do this, Mayors are appointed not elected. So Ganja got a new mayor. This is done to stem the corruption that ruling individuals seem to gather. Our new mayor was the previous mayor of Yavlax, a city of less than 30,000. Ganja has 300,000 so qualifications do not seem to matter a lot. One of the first things he has done was command that one of the most successful resaurants in the city, “Elegance”, pull down their outside seating area, stating that it was bad to look at. I am certain that this has had a significant financial affect on thier business, however, three tea houses within viewing distance of Elegance have been allowed to keep thier outside seating areas. Totally a double standard here. If the new mayor wanted to do something about how the city looks he should do something about all the litter. This would make him a good official.


There are numerous other points that could be made about the Immigration Department, the Police, and other governing sectors. Bribes, lax reporting, non-standard decision making processes and many other things, but I guess that the “good-enogh” mentality is at work here too. The people have grown accustomed to heavy handed governance and when the pain of change is less than the pain of staying the same change will come.


It is not intolerable, we have been comfortable enough. No, it is not American standards, but it is livable. The people here have almost no expandible money for luxury or leisure, and it shows, but they have chosen to not let it get them down. They shine their shoes and wash their 40 year old cars and drink tea while playing dominoes and celebrate the good life that they have. They are a very optimistic people, choosing to see that the gas was only off for a few hours rather than the fact that the gas went off at all.


I wish we could have gotten to stay, it would have been interesting to see how it all played out. I know we would have done more work at the Training House--they need to finish several more projects to be able to apply for another registration. That registration would permit them to reach more children and give them a quality education. I would have liked to meet the artistic community and see what they are doing. I would have loved to get into the music scene here--there is a pretty good jazz station on the radio. I would have liked to create some kind of grass-roots anti-littering campaign and coordinate some clean-up projects.


We have to trust that there was some sort of bigger reason in our “detour” at this time. There is one thing certain, we will return to Azerbaijan. Whether is is a short visit or we do find a way to live here long term, our hearts have been knitted with this land.


I will also offer this as well--if anyone reading this blog would like to experience the adventure of Azerbaijan first-hand Beloved and I will be your guide and host for a 7 day visit to Azerbaijan. You will get to meet most of the regulars on this blog, England and Mrs. P., Manchester, Berry and her family, Farshid, and get to be involved in bettering the lives of a few Azerbaijanis. If you are truly interested contact me, the cost would be about $2000, that would include your visa, airline ticket, and food and housing while in Az.

Day 78 Thursday

The electrician did indeed come at 9:00 this morning. He set to work an after about an hour our electricity was restored. Note--all of the electric cable I have seen so far is aluminum. No copper yet... Not sure what he actually did, but from seeing the left-over Stalin-era electric panel he could have done some voodoo on it and I would not be surprised. This entire house runs all electricity through one breaker!


So, electrician comes out to the house, works for an hour, fixes the problem. How much did it cost? 9 manat--$11.25. Not bad.


Had language lessons today too, we are working a lot more now with speaking the language and it is tough! Good though. Finished up that and changed clothes and spent three hours painting in the restroom--half done with that. Tomorrow whould finish all the paint, then plumbng on Saturday and it’ll be done! Yahoo!!


Came home to macaroni and cheese dinner and wrote the blog the rest of the evening. Now it’s 11:30 at night and I'm all up to date, so goodnight!!!

Day 75 Monday

Monday we got up a little bit later than we wanted, Sunday had been a full day. We helped our guests get some breakfast and hot showers, then got on our way to the Training House. We are getting to the point that we would like to be finished with this project, so we are packing a lot of hours into it.


On our way we see something that we’ve not seen before--they are trimming the trees that are on the sidewalks adjacent to the street.  Labor is abundant and cheap over here, so this event looks like a veritable parade of people, at least a dozen. There were guys in the trees with hand saws, there were guys picking up the limbs. There was a dump truck and it’s driver and a tractor with a wagon and it’s driver. 

There were numerous spectators too, but the one that got my attention was the chain saw operator. My dad always joked about never using a broom because it didn’t have a steering wheel. Well dad, today I saw a chain saw with handle bars!! Wonder what kind of leverage you get out of that rig? Not much I bet. I was fortunate enough to get a photo--here it is!

Day 66 Saturday

Saturday is a big work day at The Training House. Not only Beloved and me but there are about 15 of the staff here today as well. Most of them will be working on a room at the end of the hall--they are repairing some cracks in the walls and repainting the room.


Beloved and I jump into the restroom remodel, the first order of business is removing the fixtures and the so-called wall in the middle of the room. The sink and toilet come out easy enough, and the conglomeration of sticks and lightweight panels nailed together as a dividing wall is soon gone as well.

Then we start looking at the floor. About 80 percent of the floor is covered with a small terra cotta-colored tile, about three inches square. They are laid tightly together with no grout at all. After prying the first couple out of a line the tension is released and they almost be picked out by hand. Since they are coming easy we clear the whole floor of these little tiles. They match what is in the stairwells, and there are numerous ones there that are broken or missing, so we will be able to replace them some day in the future.

The floor is strangely uneven in a couple areas, almost as if it is wrinkled. The concrete below the tile has failed, so what is holding up the floor? A little “exploratory” poking around with a chisel reveals the method of construction for this floor; Apparently the builders of this--and I have to imagine all other--buildings of this era constructed the building with a sub-floor of concrete. Even the second floor, where we are. This sub-floor is not the finished-grade floor, so when that is ready to be installed the grade is raised with sand and then an inch or so of concrete is poured over that. There is no wire or screen in that concrete, so our wrinkles turn out to be where the concrete of the finish-grade floor has failed and traffic has caused the sand to shift around. We dig out the sand in about 30 percent of the total area, mix it with cement and put it back in, leveling it with the existing floor. 


At the end of Saturday we have a firm foundation upon which to start. Unfortunately it is almost two inches out of level. Tomorrow we will correct for level and then start laying tile after that.

Day 63 Wednesday

One of the things beloved says to me every week--man, we should record that sound! 


Imagine someone laying on the horn of the car for five solid seconds, then a couple toots in the middle of one more five-second long blast. Yep, everyday, several times a day, you hear the call of the water-truck. Sounds like a good title for a book or a movie!

The water truck is apparently a staple of Azerbaijani culture and infrastructure. These ancient trucks rumble up and down the streets, seldom exceeding the limits of first gear, blasting their siren call into the homes and apartments of Ganja. It stops every hundred yards or so, or wherever the people with the plastic containers are gathered. Every time I have encountered the water truck it is a pleasant, cultural experience. People interact and shake hands and talk to each other. I have been assured that the water is of much better quality than what comes from the tap, and it is relatively inexpensive. Beloved has coerced me into walking out to the water truck to purchase water on several occasions now. Walk up to the back of the truck, turn the spigot, smile and give the driver 40 qapiq. Five gallons for sixty cents, not bad. 


This week has been busy with work from the USA, The Salesman has been working hard and is breaking into a new field, digital advertising. He wants to create a 12-second ad that has some movement (Flash) and loop together 30 or so of these, then display them on a big-screen monitor inside grocery stores. And wherever else he can find a market for them--which, given his track record, should be lots of places. So, I have been brushing up on my skills with Adobe Flash, and having some fun with that!

Day 61 Monday

Last week was Beloved's birthday, and we visited the home of our housekeeper Yaver and her daughter Naza. There is a pretty good electronic piano there, on loan from N & L. Beloved played that day and it was lovely.

Yaver mentioned that Naza was taking some lessons once-upon-a-time but had not followed up on it recently. Beloved piped up immediately, "I would love to show her some things," so it was settled, and today was the first time that Naza and Beloved worked together. It was not a huge thing, just about an hour to evaluate where she is at and what will be the plan to move forward. I suppose we will go down to their house once a week or so and Beloved will give some piano lessons. Naza doesn't like to have her picture taken!


Hopefully I will be able to give some help with the house--it breaks my heart to know anyone has to live in this meager of standard--especially a single mom and a 12 year old girl. I never mean for this blog to be a downer to anyone, but I do feel compelled to show you what life is like in a third-world country. The house is about 250 square feet, the yard is 15 feet by 25 feet, and the hen eats anything that might grow in the dirt--not that it appears anything does. It is a walled yard, like all Azerbaijani homes have, but the gate is about an eight-inch step up to get out of the yard. I can imagine what this place looks like after a rain--and they have a basement storage area too.

I hope to be able to help this woman and her daughter raise their standard of living even if it is just getting the roof guttering to fall outside the wall or get some soil that might produce some grass. Check the photo--the window frame in the corner of the yard has a stick on top of it which is holding the gas meter up. One anchor drilled into the wall fixes this--how simple is that? The house is not in much better shape, there is no such thing as building codes in this region that I have seen, doors and windows don't fit very good... There are dripping faucets and  so many little things that can be done. She just doesn't have a man in her life to take care of the little things. She is working hard and her priority is taking care of Naza--there is not much left over for anything else.

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.