The Last Blog Post

Over the last three years, we have taken a journey together.

It started In the beginning [link], will end with this last blog post, but oh! there is so much in-between.

I wish I could sum up the best things about my service in just a few sentences, but alas. I cannot. There is so much I want to say about being a PCV, but I have to believe that it has already been written within these pages.

For anyone out there who stumbles upon this blog, I hope the information contained here will help you decide if Peace Corps is right for you (see Frequently Asked Questions [link], the PC Experience [link], PC Life [link] or PC Process [link]. I hope the stories, anecdotes, and soap-box rantings give you some sense of what it means to serve in such a distinguished institution. I have loved at least 78% of every minute of being a PCV. It is hard to imagine the rest of my life as an RPCV, but I know I can do it. Besides, I really don't have a choice. They delete my email from the group listserv this week.

For all those inquisitive folks out there who may be wondering what I will be doing with the rest of my life, I hope to post tiny (one liner) updates from time-to-time. These won't be regular, but I hope to show the impact Peace Corps has had on my life (at least for the next year).

Anyway, before I succumb to the tears threatening to fall any minute now, I just want to say:


Hörmətcilər (Azərbaycanlılar),

Sizinlə xidmət etməyə imkan üçün ən lap daha çox sağ olun. Mənim xidmətim lap əla (zorsa) idi. İndi ən yaxşı Azərbaycanlı dostlarm almışam və sizə görə mənim sevgi gücüm çoxalır. Sağ olun demirəm. Helelik deyirəm.

Oh yeah. And I am not on Facebook. You are going to have to email me [link] if you want to say hi.

Ready to Start Missing Outhouses

Just this week, Könül took me to her mother's village to say good-bye to her family and see this infamous place (infamous because we talk about it all the time, but I always seem to have an excuse not to take the 30 minute bus out there).


After a wonderful (read: WONDERFUL) lunch of fried potatoes and canned green tomatoes, we took a quick trip around the vil. Of course, I first needed to stop by the non-portable porta-potty. One of the cleanest outhouses I have visited in Azerbaijan, I have decided these puppies are not going to be something I miss. Bring on the squishy toilet seat covers and fluffy rugs!

"Checking Out"

So, there is this phenomenon that happens around COS (Close of Service) to all PCVs. It happens to each of us at a different time and in a slightly different way, but it follows a pretty common path. For now, let's call it...checking out.

I mean, that is what everybody else calls it, so we might as well stick with the verbiage, right?

Anyway, everybody checks out at one time or another. Whether it is changing jobs or moving to a new city, distancing yourself from those around you (and procrasinating packing up your crap) - this a pretty normal thing. Still, in Peace Corps it all takes on that special emotional tint (ahhhh! Spider crawling on my computer screen. Help!) that colors everything involving service.

In this case, it involves finding closure to a chapter in your life and (possibly) concluding those intense emotional bonds you have developed over the last two years. It also means finishing up grant reports, filling out all the final paperwork, and making future plans...something I am not succeeding at right now.

Anyway...speaking for myself, checking out has been a battle. In all honestly, I don't want to do it. I am procrastinating like crazy. I have no idea when I will return to Azerbaijan. I am hoping sooner than later, but...I'm currently jobless, a plane ticket costs lost of money, and I kind of don't want to increase my enviro footprint anymore than I already have - flying to Alaska is gonna burry me.

So...for all intents and purposes, this really is good-bye.

I know, I know. There is email and Skype and the U.S. Postal Service (Inshallah), but come on! It's gonna be hard keeping contact. Inherently, my life is on different path than those here in Azerbaijan and trying to maintain the bridge between the two worlds is going to be a struggle. Living here was the easy part. Now, somehow, I think maintaing these relationships will be the hardest part of my service.

Yup. I scared the spider away with my Spider-Scare-Away face.

Part 4...Cultural Differences

Continuing on with my story about how I became the PCV I am today, let's talk a little bit more about my ego.

Now, I have talked about how when I first got here, I had my opinions and my ideas [link]. Most of those opinions and ideas revolved around how to engage in community development, but some focused on cultural relativism. Growing up in rural Alaska, I fancied myself a "progressive" when it came to understanding the dynamics of majority-minority cultural living. My head was pretty big on this and no matter what cultural difference popped up, I was quick to point out [what I thought was] the underlying reason. Azerbaijanis rarely drink cold water and often blame the consumption of cold water as a cause of illness. "Duh," I would often say. If you want to make sure your water is clean and potable, you boil it.

Anyway, a few months later and these differences began to seem normal to me, almost welcomed. It reminded me that I was living thousands of miles from home and I was doing something grandiose.

It wasn't until those intense, underlying cultural differences started to erode my understanding of Azerbaijan that I got frustrated. The gender dynamic here is so very different than the US, the way people view friendships and relationships, child rearing, the absence of coffee...every way I know how to interact with others is thrown out the window because Azerbaijan are not America.

I struggled to understand how to interact with my landlord or how to console my friend when a family member died (I have since learned that a casserole is not the right way to share in bereavement). Even after three years, I am still navigating Azerbaijani culture and making mistakes daily. I know I offend even my closest of friends with ill-timed words or judgement-filled questions. Even if I lived here for 5 more years, I do not think I would truly ever get it. I am too used to being given major amounts of leeway because I am American - and that is okay with me. I have adapted and so has my community. I guess that is the real point here, communication and acceptance - and lots and lots of laughter when I do or say something silly.

I am weird now.

I mean, I was totally weird before. Who (in their right mind) relates everything to Star Trek episodes? It is just, now I can relate everything to not just Star Trek The Next Generation, but also Star Trek Voyager, and Star Trek Deep Space Nine. I am working on my Original Series references.

I have spent an inordinate amount of time watching Star Trek series in Peace Corps.

Okay. Back on topic, and not Star Trek related, I am weird. I noticed this a few days ago when I was trying to talk with a friend about faith and went off on a bunny trail about my bowel movements.

Who does that?

PCVs (soon-to-be RPCVs). That's who.

Three years of Peace Corps service and I am way more socially awkward than I already was. Now, when I see a girl and boy walking alone together I cannot help but get whiplash from staring at them. Casual touches from boy - friends make me agitated and the idea of not spending all my computer time parked in front of a space heater or floor fan seems too foreign to contemplate.

Adjusting to a different culture, a different way of viewing the world, was hard. I struggled for 6 months to understand simple concepts that even children here instinctively knew (like standing when someone important enters a room). Three years later, I have to re-adjust to my own culture after years of being away. I am worried I won't be able to do it. I am worried I will make a spectacle of myself or freak out in a shopping aisle. I worry about having normal conversations that do not revolve around how much fiber I had that week.

I know these are all normal parts of preparing for re-entry, but I feel like I am going to be the odd man out at every turn. I know. I know. I should not be worrying about this...but I am.

Doing All The Things

As my COS date gets closer, I have noticed something off-putting:

I am becoming frantic. 

Last week, I listened to 13 back-logged NPR Fresh Air podcasts. Two days ago, I catalogued all my books and brought half to Baku. Guess I will not be reading Schindler's List anytime soon (even though it has been on my to-read list for the last three years).

Doing All the Things has become kind of a mantra for me. Too bad most of "all the things" won't happen. I wanted to learn to write and read Russian. I wanted to read the entire Quran. I wanted to go to Turkey. So many things I wanted to do and now my three years are up. I've started to ask myself what the heck have I been doing with my time, but stopped. It's too late to look back on all my missed opportunities. Now, I can only look forward and make a list of all the things I want to get done in the U.S. - Geez. That's what I should have done in the first place, made a list.

Totally wrote this on my new-used iPhone, Spot.

The End is Nearing...

I keep starting this post and then putting it off. I know I should stop writing, hit publish and then [really] begin the process of saying good-bye. I mean, in just a few short months, its gonna be that old adage

You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here.

Geez. [This is usually the point where I stop writing and instead queue up an episode of Star Trek Voyager].

It's been such a wild ride. Just the other day, I came to another one of those big, life-changing realizations when I ran smack dab into another cultural habit that I have never heard of. It blows my mind that every day I learn more than a handful of new things even when I have been here for 3 (+) years.

I mean, come on!

It is just...whew. I cannot believe these past 3 years have gone by so fast. Wasn't I just celebrating turning 25 and heading off to begin my adventure? Didn't I just spend 30 minutes trying to explain to my host mom that it's not that I don't like milk it's that I cannot drink milk without horrible consequences (still have no idea how to say consequence in Azerbaijani)?

Time has really flown by and here I am, procrastinating on the next step. I still have yet to really get down to the nitty-gritty of job searching (I am holding out for my dream fellowship) and I haven't even confirmed my COS date with staff. All I got is a ban on out-of-country travel (during a PCV's first three months and last three months of service, travel outside of their host country is prohibited) and an email box full of end-of-service documents to start working on.

Geez (again)...I will keep you posted on what's what - unless you all have suggestions…

Learning to Be Me...Part 3

Peace Corps Azerbaijan does a fantastic job preparing a Volunteer for service - maybe, they do it a little too well. When you get all those country documents in the mail, you become overwhelmed. It sounds like you are moving halfway around the world to a land unknown - and you kind of are. For me, when I got here, I started to assume (again, assumptions...) that Azerbaijanis were like Americans because people dressed similar, there was a lot of mainstream media and music going around, and nobody looked like a Vulcan [Star Trek reference!].

But don't be fooled. Azerbaijani culture is not American culture.

It took me a few months and a lot of frustration to slowly realized as much as much as they are same on the surface, the underlying factors are nothing alike (our countries' uniquely different histories should have been my first clue). I became scared to assert myself because I didn't want any more miscommunications. I wore the clothing style suggested by Peace Corps and I acted like I was told during training.

In retrospect, that was the best way to handle the situation.

My community had to learn to trust me and the only way they could learn to do so is if I showed them I was willing to adapt and integrate into their society. I had to build my own credibility before I could assert my individuality. A pretty popular linear chart shows the difference between Western and Eastern societies as the difference between individual and community-oriented cultures. Azerbaijan is a community-oriented culture. If I had come in here waving my individuality flag, I would have had an uphill battle on my hands. For a country with lots of access to mainstream media, they don't have a lot of access to Western culture. How could they? It's not like t.v. has developed a technology that inputs cultural concepts, beliefs, and traditions into your living room.

Anyway, it took me two years to figure out how to be an individual in a community-oriented society. Peace Corps had asked me if I was willing to wearing hijab to volunteer, but I never took that to the next step and asked myself if I was willing to mute parts of my personality to volunteer.

I understand that to be a part of Azerbaijan, I have to adapt accordingly. The better I integrate, the safer I am and the easier it is work. Now, there are some things that I refuse to mute:

My beliefs on child safety, human rights, the iconic influence of Star Trek...

But there are other things that are no brainers to me. I don't have to wave my individuality flag to know I am still American.

Finding this balance has been hard, but I have learned how to read the situations better. I generally wear what I wore in the US (after using my sister as a personal shopper and updating my wardrobe) and use my mad language skills to explain why I act a little differently. I think I can do this now because I took the time to invest in my community and just because I have convictions does not mean I have to be adversarial. It is work - but I think that is the point.

The First Two Years (Part 2)

Continuing on with this multiple parter, I am writing about how I came to be the PCV I am today. In this installment: Löki and the Miscommunications (I have just started reading Percy Jackson and the Olympians [link]).

Anyway...moving on...even with the 3 months of pre-service training, I was not prepared to deal with the miscommunications that arose between myself and my Azerbaijani counterparts. Now, Peace Corps doesn't shirk away from preparation, but you can only learn so much in the safe and protective environment of pre-serving training. PC staff, LCFs, training host families - they all have had ample exposure to Peace Corps and/or have relatively quick access to PC support services.

Take all that away and you got yourself a Peace Corps host site.

Now, don't get me wrong. It would take paragraphs to explain the amount of work PC puts into preparing a host site for a volunteer, but PC cannot cover every base.

I made the mistake of assuming my host community had the same amount of extensive exposure to the bureaucratic arm of Peace Corps Azerbaijan as my training site did. Of course they didn't. Peace Corps is not represented by the main office in [insert city here], but by the relationship a host community has with its Volunteer.

It didn't occur to me to really take the time to explain who I was, my skill sets, or why I was living in Zaqatala to anybody. I just assumed everybody knew what Peace Corps was and what I had come to do. Again...assumptions...

Anyway, I wish I had realized that I needed to build my own credibility on day one. It would have allowed me to circumvent so many miscommunications.

I get it though. We do it the US. When looking for work, I submit a cover letter and a resume. There are interviews and probationary periods. I have to earn the right to be considered a member of a non-profit team. Why would my Peace Corps situation be any different? Just because I am a volunteer does not mean people should automatically accept me, especially if I want to work with their kids.

The story ends with it took me almost a year to realize that I should be leading with the cultural exchange part and then moving on to community development. Now when I meet a new person (any new person), I take that first ten minutes to explain who I am, where I am from, why I am here, and who I work for. I try to be patient and answer all the questions in a culturally appropriate way. I drop counterpart names and talk about what I like about Zaqatala. Even if the person is just a passerby, I know I am meeting the vision of Peace Corps with every new relationship I make.

How To Be A Peace Corps Volunteer (Part 1)

I've been thinking about this blog post for a while. I think it is kind of funny because most of the post is about how I came into this business standing on a soapbox and well, this is a soapbox post. Eh. What can you do?

Anyway, this is gonna be a multiple parter - so hang with me as I try to hit all the major pieces.

So, let us start with the obvious stuff. As an American, I got the American-colored glasses on. No matter what country I am in, I unconsciously (and consciously) compare it to America. I can't help it. Nobody can 100% separate themselves from [enter age here] years of socialization. I grew up in America. I am American. I know we got problems like everybody else, but when push comes to shove, I really like my home country.

When I first stepped foot in Azerbaijan I had my opinions. No matter how hard I tried to bury those opinions or pretend that I was completely open to a new culture, some things just rubbed me the wrong way. I couldn't help it. No matter how much I tried, there were times when I just couldn't help but put my foot in my mouth when talking with a Host Country National. This happens to everybody. I still do it. Three years later and I still do it.

Anyway, my first few months as a PCV were rocky. It's hard when you come in as a PCV with the goal of helping and teaching and developing. The assumption there is that the community you have been placed in has deficiencies and you want to be their savior. Anyone who signs up for Peace Corps has that hope in mind - to help. Of course, if the tables were turned, I would be damn skeptical of some random Azerbaijani showing up in my home town telling me they could teach me anything besides the Azerbaijani language.

As a first year PCV, I wanted people to see me as more than just an English teacher. I got skillz beyond my native English speaking abilities. I talked about civic engagement, I explained how I could teach people to market their businesses, I hosted Earth Day events...I spent a year pointing out the holes in Zaqatala and how I (along with local minions) could fill those holes.

I never stopped to really ask people about their own civic engagement, marketing, and environmental awareness. I just assumed they didn't have these things.

Yeah. Again, if the tables were turned, I would be pissed. Assumptions make an @#$ out of...well, just me.

Late in my second year (and through the miracle of Skype), I learned about asset-based development.

Nobody wants some big-headed foreigner to show up and point out what they see as problems. Defenses get raised, excuses are made...people stop listening. If my goal as a community development specialist is to get people talking and listening, this isn't the way to do it. It definitely is not the way to be a catalyst - it's being a pessimist.

In my third year, I really struggled with asset-based development. The whole idea is to build on what the community has, to acknowledge them as catalysts and leaders in their own right. I have worked hard to not make those inadvertent judgement statements or ask the leading questions (Isn't Star Trek the best sci-fi t.v. show out there???). It is almost impossible to not to look at things with a critical American eye and get up on my soapbox.

Yeah, it is hard. I still have my opinions. I occasionally slip up, but I know that my role in Zaqatala is to build upon the successes of this community - to continue their own development enterprises, not lead them down the path I want them to go. I see the easy path of, "use this American model to create this project and BAM! everything is solved". Of course, there is little sustainability in such a Löki-initiated and led projects and the community is less likely to back me up with their support.

Getting to the point where the community trusts you and uses you as a resource takes an exorbitant amount of time (about 1 & 1/2 years). My community does not need me to "solve" anything. They have the power within themselves to direct their own future - a future that meets their needs and fits within their cultural context. I am just here to support them and offer assistance where I can.

Anyway, I still have the American colored lenses on. I have accepted this, but that is a whole other post...get ready for Part 2!

For more on asset-based development and how community development specialists can actually do more harm than good, check out:
Asset Building and Community Development [link]
When Helping Hurts [link]

I AM REALLY FAMOUS (Be a Volunteer)

Close of Service: A Conference

The final conference a PCV experiences (as an attendee) is aptly named Close of Service. AS a PCV prepares to complete their two years of service, this conference, held 4 months before the PCV's official end date, provides information and closure for the soon to be RPCV (returned Peace Corps Volunteer).

Now, just the mention of Close of Service or COS, around a soon-to-be-departing group of PCVs can [almost] insight a riot. We are talking

• Hot showers
• Good food
• Nighly Settlers of Catan marathons
• COS travel planning

After almost two years of feeling like a fish-out-of-water, a PCV gets to spend hours talking about how much they have integrated and how that integration is going to affect them as they work to re-assimilate into American culture. It is a pretty heavy conference, although, everyone seems to come away from it feeling lighter...

Anyway, I just went to this conference. Mostly I saw PCVs making lists of all the restaurants they plan to hit up once they touch down on US soil...

For me, the entire conference was...hard. As a 3rd year PCV, I was not allowed to attend my own COS conference, so...that was difficult. As much as I enjoy the Az7s and have had a bang-up time getting to know them this last year, I deeply felt the absence of my own PC group. Stories and inside jokes made little sense to me and several times I felt like bursting into tears. Of course, I always was rocking a horrible head cold and my stomach had just decided to boycott food.

The only thing that really kept me from becoming a big baby was the other Az6 extendee who seemed to take it all in stride. His fortitude did quite a bit to keep me together and he often reminded me I was just  being silly. The whole idea behind COS is for the PCV to get some information and say good-bye - not only to the other PCVs, but also to begin the process of saying good-bye to their host community.

My blubbering was not helping that.

At any rate, I came away with more of a drive to figure out what I plan to do after COS and a deeper respect for that Az6 PCV. That's a good of a start as any :)

The Acronym Game: MSC

Did my "mass hysteria plan" post leave you wonder what the heck we all did at MSC?

I bet so.

So, here's the basic run down:

MSC (or Mid-Service Conference) is that fun time where a PCV gets poked, prodded, and tested to the federal government's content. Dental exams (no cavities here - thanks again Dr. Stang!), language tests, physical exams, eye checks - it's all included in the three day testing extravaganza.

Of course, there is also the customary conference piece including a panel of RPCVs to ask tons of questions to and a workshop on how to support the new group of PCVs (or the Az7s). I also sat in on a session on sport activities and another on gender issues in Azerbaijan.

Normally, this all goes smoothly and evenings are jammed packed with quality hanging out time and game planning moments (we all can't have our summer camps on the same day, now can we?). For us, it all happened a bit differently...

We got snowed in! Of course, it was not so awesome on day 4, but day 1, we had a blast. Lots of movie watching, chatting, and a couple dozen games of Settlers of Catan (and yes, I won the last game!).

We need a mass hysteria plan

In the life of a PCV, there are 3 major conferences:

IST (In-Service Training);
MSC (Mid-Service Conference); and,
COS (Close-of-Service Conference)



In the life of the Az PCV, there have been 2 major snowstorms:

New Year's Day of 2009; and,
MSC of 2010

That's right. MSC came to an end with several days of snowed in frustration (it started out as bliss...).

The upsides of three forced days in Baku:

I updated my computer.
I hung out with a super cool RPCV and friend, Selim [thank you for hosting me!].
I listened to George Michael's Faith about 6 times.
I FINALLY won a game of Settlers of Catan.

A New Group

A few weeks ago, I had the distinct pleasure of welcoming in a new crop of PCTs (Peace Corps Trainees for those of you who already forgot the terms!). I remember that moment of flying into Baku, in a solid daze, scared witless and feeling ill prepared for whatever awaited me at the end of the tarmac. Without assuming too much, I am sure this new PCT group is feeling something similar; however, unlike our group, they all got the introduction phase well out of the way. With these new internet wonders, such as Facebook and Blogspot, these cats are already connected. For me, the scariest part was meeting the 60 other Az-bound PCTs. For them, it was a simple, "put a personality to a face" sort of thing.

At any rate, I remember one of the Az5s telling me he had never seen an iPhone. Then, I did not think much about it, but now, I am a little scared that I am going to return to flying cars and laser guns.

And it starts...[tear]

Az5 is COSing this week. COSing? Sounds painful.

And it is. Well, at least for me. COS or Close of Service is the time when a PCV group prepares for their last few months as Volunteers. Medical tests, language competency exams, returning borrowed equipment - these are all aspects of COS and over the next 3 months, Az5 will be preparing their lives for Americana re-entry.

Just the idea of Az5 leaving scares the beegeezes out of me. It sounds like a major suck up, but these kids are my rocks. At 24 months in country, Az5 is still rockin’ out and have a great time. They’ve got the system down and know exactly what trees to shake to get results. What am I going to do without my instigators? my sympathetic ears? my institutional knowledge?

Oi.

P.S. I bet you didn't know that ultimate frisbees make great platters.

A Day In History

Dekabr 11: The first day of Löki’s PCV life.

You’d think I’d spend this day basking in my Volunteerism glory, but instead, I’m probably making my way to Zaq on an 8-hour bus right now.

Don’t worry. My mom sent me dozens of New York Times crossword puzzles and one takes me two weeks to finish (with only a little cheating).

So...what exactly was I before December 11? Well, I was a trainee living in a training site. Today, I am moving to my permanent site and armed with the knowledge I have gained over the last two+ months, I will be rockin’ out in Zaqatala.

Let the shenanigans begin!

Permanent Site

Travel books call it the Paris of Azerbaijan, but I disagree. It’s should be called Paradise, because that’s exactly it.

Established in 1929, Zaqatala (pronounced Zagatala) boasts a population of 111,600 including peoples from the 59 surrounding villages. Known for it’s nuts and beautiful women, Zaqatala’s population is the most diverse in Azerbaijan with 26 different nationalities represented within their 23,844 hectares.

Besides the facts, my first impressions of Zaq are ones of complete rapture and awe. This place has got it all. Great history, beautiful architecture, warm and friendly people, and lots of access to green space and great hiking. 

I am so happy I am breaking out into random “Making the Pizza” dance moves (a bit bittersweet without you, Sarah).

Euphoric

AZERCell Nokia Cell Phone: 70 manat

5000 Kontors (to send and receive text messages): 10 manat

Text message from my sister in California: $0.25

Finding out Barak Obama is our President-Elect: Euphoric

P.S. I won the lottery on Wednesday...well, not the lottery.

On Wednesday, I found out who the next President of the US of A will be and I also learned where my home will be over the next two years. Look for the upcoming post on Zaqatala.

And I am off...

As I may have mentioned before, my Staging/ Orientation started on Saturday at about 1 p.m. and concluded Sunday late in the evening.  Monday, we (the Volunteers-In-Training), hitched a ride to JFK to catch a late evening plane to Frankfurt.  After that, it was off to Baku, with a scheduled arrival late Tuesday evening.

I am hopeful that at some point I can peruse an unlocked wireless network and post some pictures and first impressions of the whole gig.

At any rate, I will see you all on the flip side!

P.S. Thanks Sash for the ridey-ride.