tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-43649234007093363182024-03-14T01:38:55.969-04:00GYPSY SOULHannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10668939694914870791noreply@blogger.comBlogger83125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4364923400709336318.post-37270349989294290862011-01-25T10:40:00.002-05:002011-01-25T10:54:16.414-05:00IrelandI have been a bit bad posting as of late. I went to a whole country and didn't post about it. But, I am in Ireland now. After Morocco we went to Paris and of course loved it - again. But, we are in Ireland now and we are leaving Thursday to go home! I am so excited to come back to the US, never thought I say that, but I am excited. But, enough on that and I will say a few things about Ireland. <div><br /></div><div>We are both so pleased we are ending our trip here. It is true - everything in Ireland is green, even in winter. We arrived early evening and the next day we left Dublin, so I haven't even done Dublin yet - we are doing that tomorrow. We rented a car and have been spending time traveling around the Southwest of the country. Yes you read right - we rented a car and I am the driver. Those of you who know me well will find the irony in that. I don't want to say I don't like driving, but if I have a option I would prefer not to drive - i.e. other people drive, walk, or public transportation. But, since the car is a stick shift and Amy hasn't driven those a lot, and my car in America is, by default I am the driver. Needless to say driving on the left side of the road, changing gears with my left hand, having the passenger seat as the driver seat, round-abouts, roads that can only fit 1 1/2 cars but are really 2 lane roads, no street lights - all this takes a lot of getting used too! Amy helps me out a lot by telling me when I get too close to the curb on the left (which I constantly do) and she is in charge of navigating. It is getting a bit more normal now so Amy will have to make sure I drive on the right side of the road when we get back to America! But, I am having a wonderful time here. We went to Glendalough, Killanarey National Park, Cork City, and Blarney (where the Blarney Stone is) thus far. Tomorrow we will go through the Guinness Brewery and some other fun things in Dublin. I tried to upload picture to facebook a few minutes ago but it wouldn't load for some reason. So, I will try again later and hopefully add some pictures. </div>Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10668939694914870791noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4364923400709336318.post-43514288602998912602011-01-13T17:18:00.002-05:002011-01-13T17:30:32.670-05:00MoroccoI am going to start off this post with a warning - I am biased so take my views of Morocco with a grain of salt. I have always wanted to come to Morocco, actually twice the PC told me I would be placed there. So here I am finally spending a week traveling around Morocco... and I can't wait to leave. I am not having a good time here at all. I think if I was coming here at a different stage in my life I would really enjoy it more; but not now. It is way too similar to my life in Azerbaijan. And coming here after spending time in Europe is brutal. I am back to being harassed walking down the street, having guys trying to grab me, having a guy kick at soccer ball at me, tons of unwelcome attention. It is just too much my life for the past 27 months too soon. But harder here because I don't speak the language or better so I can't understand what they are saying to me - depending on your perspective. We have already been to Casablanca and tomorrow we are leaving Fez for Marrakesh. Our first night in Casablanca we watched the movie Casablanca for the first time (the first time seeing the movie for the both of us) and we actually ate lunch at Rick's Cafe the next day. Our conclusion - Casablanca during WWII was much cooler. I am just having a hard time here in general - it is hard to find food I can eat, the tea is so sweet I don't like drinking it (never did I ever think I would find tea I don't like drinking) - I feel like I am drinking liquid sugar, I am just not in a good place mentally here. But on the positive side - the weather is quite nice during the day and it is cheaper than Europe. <div><br /></div><div>We leave Morocco on Monday for Paris and then to Ireland and then back to the States. </div>Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10668939694914870791noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4364923400709336318.post-40918616793291978332011-01-09T12:03:00.002-05:002011-01-09T12:20:03.463-05:00LisbonLet me just start off saying I love Lisbon! I definitely want to come back to Portugal and spend more time, there is so much more I want to do. And this is definitely a place I wouldn't mind living in the future. I absolutely love it here. I am not sure where to begin. I love the weather, the history, the people, everything. And it has a circus school! And as I wrote previously I love the circus, I kind of want to come to Portugal and go to circus school. Amy's mom knows a Portuguese man who lives just outside of Lisbon and we spent Saturday with him as he toured us around Lisbon and surrounding cities ending the night at his house for dinner with him and his family. The other days we just wandered around on our own. Tomorrow we fly to Casablanca for more adventures! <div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10668939694914870791noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4364923400709336318.post-75266819982322474452011-01-05T03:39:00.000-05:002011-01-05T03:41:02.316-05:00Spain<p class="MsoNormal">I have been asked which city do I like better: Barcelona or Madrid. To be honest I am not sure: in Barcelona I went to the circus and a Flamenco show (which I could have done in Madrid but we booked it for Barcelona). And yes I did say circus, not the typical Barnes and Bailey style circus, but a circus none the less. We were walking down the street when I saw signs for the circus and made Amy and Olga go with me to the night show. So my new desire in life is to run away and join the circus (a desire I get every time I see the circus). But, for my first meal in Madrid I had a salad with avocadoes on it. I was so excited (I have had them in 2 ½ years). Then we were walking to Renia Sofia (a very famous art museum) when I saw a street seller selling sweet potatoes. I almost peed in my pants with excitement. A little background information – the only food I have truly missed my entire time abroad has been sweet potatoes. I already told my mom to stock the house with them because that is all I want to eat for the first month after I get home. So when I saw them on the street I was overcome with excitement so much so that I couldn’t even enjoy the art museum because all I wanted to do was go outside and get sweet potatoes. Needless to say I impatiently went through the museum with Olga only thinking about sweet potatoes so tomorrow I am going to the museum again so I can actually focus on what I am seeing. (And yes I loved every precious bite of my sweet potatoes.) I also went on a walking tour of Madrid and learned some interesting things about the history of the city that I didn’t know. So, back to the original question – I still have no answer. Amy and I will be in Madrid until Jan 6 when we will take a night train to Lisbon, Portugal. </p>Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10668939694914870791noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4364923400709336318.post-18570870159738924912011-01-02T16:25:00.003-05:002011-01-02T16:50:15.342-05:00BarcelonaI am spending my last night in Barcelona and tomorrow I am heading off to Madrid. I have a few observations about my trip - I like Spain but I am not in love with it; I don't foresee myself coming back anytime soon. I guess it is a good thing I never followed through with my childhood dream of becoming a bartender in Spain. I am now, however, a huge fan of Sangrias; I tried it for the first time this trip and love them. But, eating in Spain is quite difficult for a vegetarian who doesn't eat dairy; not many options. And the hot chocolate is a no go - never thought I would turn down hot chocolate but here it is quite thick, like pudding. Continuing on the food topic, which eating is my favorite past time, I like mezas (Turkish version of tapas) better than tapas. Well, I should log off so I can continue packing and go to bed. Be on the look out for pictures on facebook in the next few days.Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10668939694914870791noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4364923400709336318.post-11805868826613657192010-12-29T08:06:00.004-05:002010-12-29T08:31:01.565-05:00Istanbul<div>Today is my last full day in Istanbul. Tomorrow we are heading out to Spain. I am very excited to leave Istanbul even though we have had a good time. We haven't done tons and tons of stuff, just taking it easy and enjoying a laid back relaxing vacation. We did however go see some of the major sights. It is Amy's first time in Istanbul and she had a list of thing she wanted to do.<div><br /></div><div>Below are a few pictures but I posted more on my facebook account.</div></div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA55tnC85b8mCKZZDvXfYtiPDeI256j6nmaQa9W_NSG-fOvRd_YUX4lbaHDvcCXd8DhKQY6lSofyeFgOjh-cg5ykwDaLOlfNP_ZhJ82-i-YSOZ5vo-_N6tPOapkBvUWlrseu-_OV8QnSt_/s1600/IMG_2408.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA55tnC85b8mCKZZDvXfYtiPDeI256j6nmaQa9W_NSG-fOvRd_YUX4lbaHDvcCXd8DhKQY6lSofyeFgOjh-cg5ykwDaLOlfNP_ZhJ82-i-YSOZ5vo-_N6tPOapkBvUWlrseu-_OV8QnSt_/s320/IMG_2408.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556092795678749490" /></a><div><div style="text-align: center;">The Blue Mosque</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU_oPFiRYcwocoSUjuHng7FIUaeEhAv_c0d43yBKKMR63i-qErQC0IdWN84m7HS3L8ipMSt8dbVjhDXBzFdObUjY4YQ9t-J0jjOAew-dsXZAKuATVPZK9R2qoTPgcfje-VBoxZzjxlX1Mc/s1600/IMG_2407.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU_oPFiRYcwocoSUjuHng7FIUaeEhAv_c0d43yBKKMR63i-qErQC0IdWN84m7HS3L8ipMSt8dbVjhDXBzFdObUjY4YQ9t-J0jjOAew-dsXZAKuATVPZK9R2qoTPgcfje-VBoxZzjxlX1Mc/s320/IMG_2407.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556092792717191298" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Aya Sophia</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha8d4qj1JvUhlipXT62ulROEilniKpFjTRki0t0A-QoNtIAXnZXB-GuNG4T_iGJuXdTOHEmnSAWR6XNTa7pKTKhaFvUx-DQ9Eh18t0GwFcZy2JxcUZHzY0Wh_mo6Sd6Q7E9Q2CrDBtIwAB/s1600/IMG_2410.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha8d4qj1JvUhlipXT62ulROEilniKpFjTRki0t0A-QoNtIAXnZXB-GuNG4T_iGJuXdTOHEmnSAWR6XNTa7pKTKhaFvUx-DQ9Eh18t0GwFcZy2JxcUZHzY0Wh_mo6Sd6Q7E9Q2CrDBtIwAB/s320/IMG_2410.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556092790104938994" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Amy and Me at Subway</div><br /></div>Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10668939694914870791noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4364923400709336318.post-40467060209231504692010-12-22T11:08:00.005-05:002010-12-22T12:26:12.827-05:00No, I didn't quit my blog.<div>Its been too long since I last updated my blog. Since my last post everything, literally everything, in my life has changed. I am no longer as PCV; I COSed (completion of service) on Dec 16th. I am now an official RPCV (Returned PCV)! I know that is a bit of a surprise for some people since I posted a while ago my decision to extend. But after much thought and soul searching I came to the conclusion the best thing for me was to finish my time in Azerbaijan and come home.<br /><div><br /></div><div>So where am I now? Currently I am sitting in a flat in Istanbul that Amy and I are renting for the duration of our stay here. We will be here until the 30<sup>th</sup>, when we will leave for Spain. And yesterday I was in Paris, my new favorite city. After I COSed I met Sara and Laura there; I absolutely fell in love with it. I am not sure if I loved it so much because it is so different from where I have been or it is just that amazing. But I like it enough that Amy and I will make our way back there while we travel through Europe. We (Sara, Laura, and I) rented a flat near in a cute little neighborhood and had an amazing time sight seeing, eating, and relaxing. Below are pictures from my time there.</div></div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv4JtXKoY8HVJAjSDAp916MrVjMo1l48V6Ij0VkuInXWfjLhj4AYNojjuEzhA-XWGBrQri47LtuJWxO-Sbn4UuaXgrEfmqnXGXoECzH1-iW88ztg2eTc6WS1oaqB2RzjAbdKxEhEd-4q0R/s1600/IMG_2272.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv4JtXKoY8HVJAjSDAp916MrVjMo1l48V6Ij0VkuInXWfjLhj4AYNojjuEzhA-XWGBrQri47LtuJWxO-Sbn4UuaXgrEfmqnXGXoECzH1-iW88ztg2eTc6WS1oaqB2RzjAbdKxEhEd-4q0R/s320/IMG_2272.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553558274475824498" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Sara and me at The Louvre</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja7HEco4wrTncB1I9pJnl9qK4BlZDzyuareNwIOM-tx8CattVzXGgaL99i00SH6COHpDjot7x9VXaqpqHOswAS1zkEbWaLZ6w7KLY28maXm6ogEYjXSxCOOx6rav2C4FiqQJ73iU3LTSn7/s1600/IMG_2381.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja7HEco4wrTncB1I9pJnl9qK4BlZDzyuareNwIOM-tx8CattVzXGgaL99i00SH6COHpDjot7x9VXaqpqHOswAS1zkEbWaLZ6w7KLY28maXm6ogEYjXSxCOOx6rav2C4FiqQJ73iU3LTSn7/s320/IMG_2381.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553558268337487810" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Our last supper - (I had monkfish)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV_8bMcDrv3dGkccsqBBOD7ymt3qVz3v7UMgn4yHKNHekVVPBgWkd-gEvG3JxXSzbSdxhdGs52GxU1LPuBz-PjwEqsgGsEAtg-OyjINRQbodIckdc2Z0ipGBp48KhHfpr7Y8MFwuCS_Vo4/s1600/IMG_2014.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV_8bMcDrv3dGkccsqBBOD7ymt3qVz3v7UMgn4yHKNHekVVPBgWkd-gEvG3JxXSzbSdxhdGs52GxU1LPuBz-PjwEqsgGsEAtg-OyjINRQbodIckdc2Z0ipGBp48KhHfpr7Y8MFwuCS_Vo4/s320/IMG_2014.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553558263176027362" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Laura and me</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV-xQJ2fY8bK9WQroVbQiwHCIHqXMYAUIw4nY13LdGVYIi-jDIxuSgmS0_-V9ijN9-Ea7CLs9wMmn8aiMxK5eZfUhh6w0Ad7XXhBMIUqrg6sJSgRW3jRudy-58FXVUbb6aqE-AeVeUQoZa/s1600/IMG_2376.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV-xQJ2fY8bK9WQroVbQiwHCIHqXMYAUIw4nY13LdGVYIi-jDIxuSgmS0_-V9ijN9-Ea7CLs9wMmn8aiMxK5eZfUhh6w0Ad7XXhBMIUqrg6sJSgRW3jRudy-58FXVUbb6aqE-AeVeUQoZa/s320/IMG_2376.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553558258226117394" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Yes, I am drinking a bowl of amazing hot chocolate </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3RQtSXLeOWUWH2QaUZGwWDfVyWPTwPwvxt4xkasm2_093IzJT1vnNuDx7opsAdentCUwp0UdOSRZzzK7fn9LluS7qb4f2JDh1dFuAafJ3OBe0G0uztxGFR6HpAerZ5t1KfmSqMtvSW-98/s1600/IMG_2372.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3RQtSXLeOWUWH2QaUZGwWDfVyWPTwPwvxt4xkasm2_093IzJT1vnNuDx7opsAdentCUwp0UdOSRZzzK7fn9LluS7qb4f2JDh1dFuAafJ3OBe0G0uztxGFR6HpAerZ5t1KfmSqMtvSW-98/s320/IMG_2372.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553554185810904130" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifCDmR_9Qxgkg4uGBIRedkNgBGmm1NDY1nIReK-kW6t3rh7xUgId-VvwZCRQVJ3OibTzGkYl45-GvJAeDZ4_7nwUXq2VTWOT7s-bHjpHhVZUdrX0ZkT8boUP5Oqa5xx34y1F0wWyTHiUr_/s1600/IMG_2366.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifCDmR_9Qxgkg4uGBIRedkNgBGmm1NDY1nIReK-kW6t3rh7xUgId-VvwZCRQVJ3OibTzGkYl45-GvJAeDZ4_7nwUXq2VTWOT7s-bHjpHhVZUdrX0ZkT8boUP5Oqa5xx34y1F0wWyTHiUr_/s320/IMG_2366.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553554181517910082" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">At Notre Dame</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPRKYQ6DAaRPnMmk-pQm6C9W31p673XcDjhnAnt_uzoiJJxXW4fnX-nvkwGd7xCNrPaHg-mcpRkMycWxbdFsSCrqNKFT6wDGkLNPaYO92dpC32fM69WYtQC-jcEJx-MwVLr5TKAlLR4ttZ/s1600/IMG_2359.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPRKYQ6DAaRPnMmk-pQm6C9W31p673XcDjhnAnt_uzoiJJxXW4fnX-nvkwGd7xCNrPaHg-mcpRkMycWxbdFsSCrqNKFT6wDGkLNPaYO92dpC32fM69WYtQC-jcEJx-MwVLr5TKAlLR4ttZ/s320/IMG_2359.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553554176591891106" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Yummy sushi dinner</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWzfYlpYNj19-sfT2FiINeGietNkz-5bUXlhJk9NuOPcMa-0X8jiCq7l9T9g-rNR6De28-jTFBWIaEYtuaoy4q-T0HlE3QEUKEA0Xnf-uiCw4bp-CD5h9HN4sLp37Va9fJf5cm71nnmS19/s1600/IMG_2357.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWzfYlpYNj19-sfT2FiINeGietNkz-5bUXlhJk9NuOPcMa-0X8jiCq7l9T9g-rNR6De28-jTFBWIaEYtuaoy4q-T0HlE3QEUKEA0Xnf-uiCw4bp-CD5h9HN4sLp37Va9fJf5cm71nnmS19/s320/IMG_2357.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553554167230135778" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">In our flat</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSdD3nUrp1zi_LTyR0Ic0QARsTNcg-jELjq1abPq5PJVVFCpUQclbqP4p1miOj-ABApPO_SaSB-ADHL3h-v8uoXNVW97AA1oBBkBAUl-HI8tHHGMCMZreRaW3_ZE_5DYP3sN-M-2b7dUoA/s1600/IMG_2279.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSdD3nUrp1zi_LTyR0Ic0QARsTNcg-jELjq1abPq5PJVVFCpUQclbqP4p1miOj-ABApPO_SaSB-ADHL3h-v8uoXNVW97AA1oBBkBAUl-HI8tHHGMCMZreRaW3_ZE_5DYP3sN-M-2b7dUoA/s320/IMG_2279.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553554157249061794" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">At the Louvre</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10668939694914870791noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4364923400709336318.post-35735717544726452522010-10-13T03:17:00.003-04:002010-10-13T03:31:51.343-04:00Time With Char<div>Last week I was so fortunate to have a friend of mine from Raleigh, Char, stop by for a few days to visit me. And when I say a few days I literally mean 2 days. She was helping some friends move to Turkey and decided to stop by and see me. I am so glad she did and I had an absolutely amazing time with her. We spent the time in Baku doing some sight-seeing with my Embassy family (the family I stay with when I am in Baku who works at the US Embassy; I have adopted them, hence the possessive pronoun). It was hard to see her leave, but I loved every minute of her being here. <div><br /></div><div>I have attached a few pictures from our time with descriptive captions.</div><div> </div></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiSB6rReWizKIqkrOvyETlkMXebdV2bspW0e6PYflybzVnYKkqGLBwlyoJuR_nF4fNXZG59x7VAU6JdfFQxOCynVZ5gaPKsNe8Ok2CxlDrj4KoWhF8ha3iPAObJ59BAyDgJiKcIEdDv5ne/s1600/IMG_4052.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiSB6rReWizKIqkrOvyETlkMXebdV2bspW0e6PYflybzVnYKkqGLBwlyoJuR_nF4fNXZG59x7VAU6JdfFQxOCynVZ5gaPKsNe8Ok2CxlDrj4KoWhF8ha3iPAObJ59BAyDgJiKcIEdDv5ne/s320/IMG_4052.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5527427811050802562" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Me and Char at Qobustan (a historic site with rock engravings dating back between 5,000 - 10,000 years) </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOt7NHiNN6EUOtDLXONKvK7N-2AXN0UZ9YG0W7A8a-2KrFtJEVVI4QooPCiS1sTrdCcSZDvPQ1lrQn8hEnsf8afKCbb3SHIih6UDf7IKwS9CoDtrH-1s7AJDYKl9DEsiP1O-sbj8AxMZPe/s1600/IMG_4037.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOt7NHiNN6EUOtDLXONKvK7N-2AXN0UZ9YG0W7A8a-2KrFtJEVVI4QooPCiS1sTrdCcSZDvPQ1lrQn8hEnsf8afKCbb3SHIih6UDf7IKwS9CoDtrH-1s7AJDYKl9DEsiP1O-sbj8AxMZPe/s320/IMG_4037.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5527427804762254066" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Us in the House</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikDyNHAg71Srst3pLoxx9mGVZjEmEJAA8oq8Z5dQljnxuoeRNEQCxa5nnE9Lod2OZaa1SXboyaSfANTjhZAbko3xhBxomeaNXv7AOnG1qVp4gDTZarLjDsZvq1YZl_sQjI5xbIIlqD-ygX/s1600/IMG_2161.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikDyNHAg71Srst3pLoxx9mGVZjEmEJAA8oq8Z5dQljnxuoeRNEQCxa5nnE9Lod2OZaa1SXboyaSfANTjhZAbko3xhBxomeaNXv7AOnG1qVp4gDTZarLjDsZvq1YZl_sQjI5xbIIlqD-ygX/s320/IMG_2161.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5527427796595705746" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Us at the "Burning Mountain" (a hillside where the ground is naturally on fire, constantly, from natural gas)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis_hCfFZMBs7lgkk2Jfg9Zod6JJZI-VLGgfIVL0z-DnGydAIO6FrGaUDR7Db5uEGWqtrFH-ZyAnsmDTvXYYAfUnSr_lCfkLboPNmYKiO9UjaQ1rfSURv24ecMHGUu8s_qm7x_smbzP4h32/s1600/IMG_2158.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis_hCfFZMBs7lgkk2Jfg9Zod6JJZI-VLGgfIVL0z-DnGydAIO6FrGaUDR7Db5uEGWqtrFH-ZyAnsmDTvXYYAfUnSr_lCfkLboPNmYKiO9UjaQ1rfSURv24ecMHGUu8s_qm7x_smbzP4h32/s320/IMG_2158.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5527427790649634210" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Me at Burning Mountain </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOBpwghS2FPsTqfsE-0Y8ZRFWijRSRkufnYa6VXpZR_eHW4YqgLxkR8oPeSm2UfSZmXM2Ub12lwRhXgMQdeoEkqdhR6ZGAlZPPXT5htIR23cQTTkqFOtqUcY9EYxke6w3qCeuXW4p1-qEm/s1600/IMG_2133.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOBpwghS2FPsTqfsE-0Y8ZRFWijRSRkufnYa6VXpZR_eHW4YqgLxkR8oPeSm2UfSZmXM2Ub12lwRhXgMQdeoEkqdhR6ZGAlZPPXT5htIR23cQTTkqFOtqUcY9EYxke6w3qCeuXW4p1-qEm/s320/IMG_2133.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5527427777690704258" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Me climbing through a rock at Qubostan that is believed if you go through it (like in the picture) and make a wish it will come true</div>Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10668939694914870791noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4364923400709336318.post-84044522802478666102010-09-25T02:49:00.002-04:002010-09-25T02:56:40.392-04:00Changes<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">I’ve changed. That was a given outcome I was expecting when I decided to join the Peace Corps. Some changes I think are for the best and some not so much. What brought on this discourse of thought on change? Watching a cooking podcast (which I download to get new ideas for meals and merely because I enjoy watching them). As I was watching this particular episode for vegan pancakes, the cook needed water for the recipe, so she proceeded to turn to her kitchen sink, open the faucet, get water and then put it in the batter. I watched that and thought: that is so weird; she just took water from the sink. It wasn’t until a few days later did I realize how strange it was that I thought it is strange to get cookeable, drinkable water straight from the tap. (Bit of background on my process for having drinkable water: daily gather water (between 7.45am to 8.30am – roughly) from the yard faucet, boil it, pour it in my water filter, and wait for it to be filtered (this is the longest part of the process, usually requiring several hours.)<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">Pondering all the ways I realize I have changed (probably have changed in ways I don’t even consider as change anymore), I wander when I go back to America if all these changes will reverse or are they permanently part of me now? Will I ever stop thinking running water is precious? When I turn a knob and instantly have hot water will I even remember having to water several hours for water to heat up, and never having hot water in the house, only the in the yard shower? Will I continue the habit of never leaving anything pluged into an outlet when it is not in use? Will I get used to not having to bring my own toilet paper everywhere? Will I continue to use my hand (for number 1 and 2) when I run out of or forget toilet paper, without giving it a second thought? Will I break the habit of automatically throwing used toilet paper into a trash can? What will replace my knowledge of exact time of day when I no longer hear the call to prayer 3 times a day? Will I continue to walk down streets with my head down, eyes to the ground, avoiding eye contact, and frankly any interactions, with men? Will I see a group of guys, young or old, in the street and instantly change my course and find an alternate route to avoid them or will I not even think twice about them? Will I walk into a room full of men for a business meeting and think it is strange that my presence is acknowledged (since here my presence is rarely acknowledged)? Will I stop becoming overwhelmed when I am in large group gatherings? What will happen when my secret language of English is understood by everyone around me or when I can fluently understand everything around me? <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">To be honest the thought of staying scares a me a bit to think how much more I will change and the thought of going scares me a bit because here has become the normal for me. </p>Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10668939694914870791noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4364923400709336318.post-12137574234829031572010-09-22T06:54:00.005-04:002010-09-22T08:47:49.352-04:00Party At My House<div>I hosted a birthday party at my house last weekend for one of my youth, who was turning 16 or 17, not sure which. Birthdays are counted differently here and when I asked her how she was she said 17, but when I doubled checked for how many candles to put on the cake she said she was turning 16. I tried to get an explanation for the difference, but I didn't understand what she was talking about so I gave up and said she was 17 turning 16. None the less we had a really fun party. I spent Saturday night baking and as usual I over baked - 1 layer chocolate cake with pink icing; 1 batch sugar cookies, 1 batch butter walnut cookies, 1 9 x 13 pan of peanut butter bars with PB & chocolate icing, plus watermelon and chips. The party was Sunday and 8 youth came (8 were invited) and we played Twister and Screaming Ninja. Twister was a big hit, but being where we are and how it is here boys and girls played separately, well that is not true, I was the only hussy who played with both boys and girls. Screaming Ninja was also a big hit and I can only imagine what the women who sit the in the apartments' building communal yard thought of a group of kids yelling "hi-ya's" at each other were doing, because we could definitely be heard out of my window. The kids really like my new house a lot better, I can really tell too because they come over a lot more often now - which I like. So here was the breakdown: games, tea break, more games, cake and soda break, games, Xalid's Micheal Jackson dance and then photo session. (Photo session is the term I apply to the need for everyone in this culture to take crazy amounts of pictures - the person individually with everyone.) Then they left - the girls had to get home, they only were allowed permission from their parents to stay until 5. </div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_VqKJM2WIIyWs0P2yXFNXXNGiVOApIBtN0fM8Ib29ahFzlGZvc6hSA_31XATRN7P7u9LwOOFOcBlGr2JYcabikQlYmZg5oU3E7El6VuRmziRGWrbT3xwX6am8pbjOpqrxQp72yg4ank9d/s1600/IMG_1994.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_VqKJM2WIIyWs0P2yXFNXXNGiVOApIBtN0fM8Ib29ahFzlGZvc6hSA_31XATRN7P7u9LwOOFOcBlGr2JYcabikQlYmZg5oU3E7El6VuRmziRGWrbT3xwX6am8pbjOpqrxQp72yg4ank9d/s320/IMG_1994.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519715523853062178" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Screaming Ninja in Action</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEl29O-uJkgIlpRXvuOiLtaIlpHJ_AAKkOxcFs0y4Qu4gggdui7AgOF36fiXaFtv4wowCrIPTlBPieTVS-3l7cy9AU7hDHoqPqou-KHdFgKJjy9e2-NEhWz73C46ddXjUzmwLzWAjYd90l/s1600/IMG_2001.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEl29O-uJkgIlpRXvuOiLtaIlpHJ_AAKkOxcFs0y4Qu4gggdui7AgOF36fiXaFtv4wowCrIPTlBPieTVS-3l7cy9AU7hDHoqPqou-KHdFgKJjy9e2-NEhWz73C46ddXjUzmwLzWAjYd90l/s320/IMG_2001.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519715516146078146" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEoTHR54YUlgSZH_JEHC4OBsmJe4Yk3dUqh_TdTgL5GkZO56cNj3scCx1Ojd4Z1euQrgBz0vnoXdYSnVUCS-JsFjR5cqeCSSd5faWSFMtMUDNzJlfNxvZNzSrP8cBsyqu9w9TKJ0qEckoO/s1600/IMG_2014.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEoTHR54YUlgSZH_JEHC4OBsmJe4Yk3dUqh_TdTgL5GkZO56cNj3scCx1Ojd4Z1euQrgBz0vnoXdYSnVUCS-JsFjR5cqeCSSd5faWSFMtMUDNzJlfNxvZNzSrP8cBsyqu9w9TKJ0qEckoO/s320/IMG_2014.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519715510638205218" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Making a wish</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaj0h7CTsH5jshIZqQNDZG5eVWoiBD2zjLHlCokr8Zm712OMZtzLmo15o89afAovgLBXq5GZebFvpFxwZoKLUPLkK1CfrgYoTnP5ZvRzVWedVsLQF-HqweISDLOZPgiwLijw2ET6AENRCV/s1600/IMG_1990.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaj0h7CTsH5jshIZqQNDZG5eVWoiBD2zjLHlCokr8Zm712OMZtzLmo15o89afAovgLBXq5GZebFvpFxwZoKLUPLkK1CfrgYoTnP5ZvRzVWedVsLQF-HqweISDLOZPgiwLijw2ET6AENRCV/s320/IMG_1990.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519715505286102402" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Me and the birthday girl </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNYJv8WG0H5esgzBghXhx6Uf1K1nXB_8ewEuqAwbhK92RxYGoYRNaHSP22BjVwEDaKgTImvBBu9wRpMd4SD2aVSBzUrZC91MfJrlcF9cq-Hx7F_q1gx3qHBA35JYmXEjFynbv6_-g9CVis/s1600/IMG_2019.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNYJv8WG0H5esgzBghXhx6Uf1K1nXB_8ewEuqAwbhK92RxYGoYRNaHSP22BjVwEDaKgTImvBBu9wRpMd4SD2aVSBzUrZC91MfJrlcF9cq-Hx7F_q1gx3qHBA35JYmXEjFynbv6_-g9CVis/s320/IMG_2019.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519715494718177762" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Xalid doing his Micheal Jackson dance to "Smooth Criminal" for us, he is really good. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOZRaOOCAGMGxPQ_r5jScAEBNRLs5B91bfUBKAtbq0MUnnnNsq1HRHa9JH7-SYRk0awN6KUrqI7F_FRaliQ_Pmwd0z7yG8zjdxPEBlSKRTP_dSAzSao8dasQ5DMelE5s1TeeOprPkcd2bb/s1600/IMG_2024.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOZRaOOCAGMGxPQ_r5jScAEBNRLs5B91bfUBKAtbq0MUnnnNsq1HRHa9JH7-SYRk0awN6KUrqI7F_FRaliQ_Pmwd0z7yG8zjdxPEBlSKRTP_dSAzSao8dasQ5DMelE5s1TeeOprPkcd2bb/s320/IMG_2024.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519714348015452530" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">The group (minus the girl taking the picture, she doesn't like her picture to be taken)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1IGha7xYEbbOu2hDWPEqRj44Xslh_FllEUPfBCh2c6ULubo1Q_9UF6p_JMvmk0VX_HVIa7SQqHVI4DWPbSD0KSYhrQRcvACzP_7blNAjH0wh3JIlQiOhuzli9-H-SFExOWWQsU_wo7C6X/s1600/IMG_2007.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1IGha7xYEbbOu2hDWPEqRj44Xslh_FllEUPfBCh2c6ULubo1Q_9UF6p_JMvmk0VX_HVIa7SQqHVI4DWPbSD0KSYhrQRcvACzP_7blNAjH0wh3JIlQiOhuzli9-H-SFExOWWQsU_wo7C6X/s320/IMG_2007.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519714334520021986" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Boys Round of Twister</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje-662XBcme_cNlH3v3IUWZgEf4PG8fKBmp9MWoF_fU-NtrtTmIyf6rh2RxowrTFpueqVU-flH9b1jcacQA1hToTArLCb1VIPetXd9d7Z8xt5QK2z3N44Y1HwKuiTquwjsLesQPz7mF-hC/s1600/IMG_1987.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje-662XBcme_cNlH3v3IUWZgEf4PG8fKBmp9MWoF_fU-NtrtTmIyf6rh2RxowrTFpueqVU-flH9b1jcacQA1hToTArLCb1VIPetXd9d7Z8xt5QK2z3N44Y1HwKuiTquwjsLesQPz7mF-hC/s320/IMG_1987.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519714329669972066" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfYG7xy4X0dLmR0_fSLMoM4GqKjTIOWcKoRPRVBOkhvRiUz0hFWzJcNLz0asnEr1fUGyRgsrPEguvQUIZws5RmhVCl4WeahkAKcIIJn_Z1UFvygyJSoLlzaijLX_KZyedbPDo1FN4f81Qg/s1600/IMG_1980.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfYG7xy4X0dLmR0_fSLMoM4GqKjTIOWcKoRPRVBOkhvRiUz0hFWzJcNLz0asnEr1fUGyRgsrPEguvQUIZws5RmhVCl4WeahkAKcIIJn_Z1UFvygyJSoLlzaijLX_KZyedbPDo1FN4f81Qg/s320/IMG_1980.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519714324519490978" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Twister fun</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6jdwIWleJ-Fp-b5yJ_J3puRLjO2OaAcQWf-EQawd3jOGQCeIZrYC91eH6Aptwj99_B1co5rwoEJTyN-XnEf2-j5m9kWfGB3EOW-bYqORyhf17sEOywfKBiq0XAxbhyphenhyphenUiGUW258UmP_aLF/s1600/IMG_1979.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6jdwIWleJ-Fp-b5yJ_J3puRLjO2OaAcQWf-EQawd3jOGQCeIZrYC91eH6Aptwj99_B1co5rwoEJTyN-XnEf2-j5m9kWfGB3EOW-bYqORyhf17sEOywfKBiq0XAxbhyphenhyphenUiGUW258UmP_aLF/s320/IMG_1979.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519714312618437362" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Me rocking out Twister</div>Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10668939694914870791noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4364923400709336318.post-82312964769548542892010-09-03T06:50:00.004-04:002010-09-03T07:11:30.398-04:00What's your reason for being late to work?I have been in my new place for one week and last night I started to get worried that my water tank would run out soon - like in the middle of my shower soon. (Just in case you don't know, most houses and apartments have a tank that stores all the water for their house; which is different from drinking water - that comes from somewhere else. In my current case, the drinking water comes from a faucet in the middle of the courtyard of my building.) The water to fill tanks and the water from the faucet in the yard does are not always working at the same time (unless your source is a well, not the city.) To further complicate things water is only cut on a certain times during the day - you have to know your water schedule and be home at those times. For three days I have opened the valve I needed to fill up my water tank when the faucet (in the courtyard) was pouring water; I assumed that if one was working the other would be too. Not the case. So I was becoming increasingly worried that I would run out of water (which has happened to me before, not the end of the world but not super fun to be in the middle of a shower with no more water either). I asked my neighbor why I couldn't fill my tank in the mornings when the faucet water was turned on. She said, "Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't; sometimes the water comes on around 3 or 4, but you work then." So where did that leave me - a little more stressed out. She suggested I turn open my valve in the morning before work and just leave it on until I come home at night and close it then. Great thought minus the fact that when once a tank is full it then begins to overflow. Again, not the end of the world to have a flooded yard expect my tank doesn't overflow into my yard but into a neighbor's yard. As much as I want water I also don't want to be that jerk who floods their neighbor's yard. <div><br /></div><div>This brings me to this morning. When I went to shower this morning (and the faucet water was turned on) I decided to open my tank valve and just see what happened. What happened? Nothing, no water. But I left it open while I continued to get ready for work. As I was leaving for work I stopped in my yard to close the valve. But, what did I feel? Water running! (Yes, I tell if the water is running by touching the pipes to see if I can feel running water). New delima: leave for work with an unfilled tank, leave for work with tank valve open and flood the neighbor's yard, or stay until my water tank fills and be late for work. I took option 3. Now I can rest easy because I know that I have a tank full of water, until the next time that is. </div>Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10668939694914870791noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4364923400709336318.post-41265638048744480012010-08-31T05:47:00.002-04:002010-08-31T05:58:52.053-04:00Birthday Fun<div>For my birthday this year I really felt the love. My PCV and Azerbaijani friends totally went above and beyond with visits, presents, texts, and phone calls wishing me a happy birthday. Ceyhun, for the second year in a row, brought me a birthday cake to celebrate. I have posted pictures below. However, my favorite gifts were from my amazing friends Sara and Jessica. What did they give me? Diet Coke, brought to me all the way from Baku!</div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcS7UKGeZ6Sz06fhzFNhCE6Wj2CPnKQeTIt11osg2tuRHLAbzd-p_50A161mBq1yMqxdw4KMEs0_9J-K4_5YZtFXms90vonomYIOF1lHPZopfT2DOmgKQraNTc08cDLgV3pZupqTR80MpE/s1600/IMG_1944%5B1%5D.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcS7UKGeZ6Sz06fhzFNhCE6Wj2CPnKQeTIt11osg2tuRHLAbzd-p_50A161mBq1yMqxdw4KMEs0_9J-K4_5YZtFXms90vonomYIOF1lHPZopfT2DOmgKQraNTc08cDLgV3pZupqTR80MpE/s320/IMG_1944%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511509263627574050" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Ceyhun (right) and his best friend (also my neighbor) in my kitchen </div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTFDwU-OY7-hs9_LKcOJO-S0ThyElIHEJ_vprSGMUxYfZz2CSoyOy-ZwfqznU7WNSSqzD-V5TSkdPa1tIonlTPE5jXQ-NUTLZ337he0vJhukUfdvfkp_r4khusXX1jb2C8t_luVy_GTMA3/s1600/IMG_1941%5B1%5D.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTFDwU-OY7-hs9_LKcOJO-S0ThyElIHEJ_vprSGMUxYfZz2CSoyOy-ZwfqznU7WNSSqzD-V5TSkdPa1tIonlTPE5jXQ-NUTLZ337he0vJhukUfdvfkp_r4khusXX1jb2C8t_luVy_GTMA3/s320/IMG_1941%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511509256362163794" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Aybaniz, me, and Ceyhun with my birthday cake</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE1MOT950seSteKUlN5l0z-0Jvp4F3omhrcdSG6IALQXAMzr9kjZbELbn_pGbFrw1EGLE016N-FrKpD-DR7YEBvD1Tdjs7Q2QnM-Sd-Hh-aEB9TYMo_gpuGVK3SdmDFpiC3FxBxC2D5pGx/s1600/IMG_1942%5B1%5D.jpg"></a><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE1MOT950seSteKUlN5l0z-0Jvp4F3omhrcdSG6IALQXAMzr9kjZbELbn_pGbFrw1EGLE016N-FrKpD-DR7YEBvD1Tdjs7Q2QnM-Sd-Hh-aEB9TYMo_gpuGVK3SdmDFpiC3FxBxC2D5pGx/s1600/IMG_1942%5B1%5D.jpg"><img style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE1MOT950seSteKUlN5l0z-0Jvp4F3omhrcdSG6IALQXAMzr9kjZbELbn_pGbFrw1EGLE016N-FrKpD-DR7YEBvD1Tdjs7Q2QnM-Sd-Hh-aEB9TYMo_gpuGVK3SdmDFpiC3FxBxC2D5pGx/s320/IMG_1942%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511509250554616514" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Cutting the cake</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitwAAcElxcfHq-Y1EZGj7267JEhCgMpnXiqhe6LPzCjfc9qKfE-VBqG8nPzxtg-fVdusNhNHvZVuaCfjVqGnUgP1a7LJkqJYrjQW3HUH6JAcJXPkdzjyCRx0ANroiVlIgo0nGwiYmiyPka/s1600/IMG_1940%5B1%5D.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitwAAcElxcfHq-Y1EZGj7267JEhCgMpnXiqhe6LPzCjfc9qKfE-VBqG8nPzxtg-fVdusNhNHvZVuaCfjVqGnUgP1a7LJkqJYrjQW3HUH6JAcJXPkdzjyCRx0ANroiVlIgo0nGwiYmiyPka/s320/IMG_1940%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511509241012376642" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">My birthday cake from Ceyhun (second year in row he has given me a cake)</div></div>Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10668939694914870791noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4364923400709336318.post-79439296974851461562010-08-30T06:32:00.002-04:002010-08-31T05:39:15.512-04:00Weekend to Zerdab<div>This past weekend I went to visit my good friend Sara at her site, on Sunday my other stellar friend Jessica came down to join the fun. Sara and I had a blast cooking all sorts of amazing food and running together in the mornings. We made English muffins, which we were so proud of - they tasted amazing and looked like store bought. We made apple oatmeal pancakes, hummus, roasted veggies with pesto sauce, Thai veggies, burritos, and brownie oatmeal cookies. I was sad to leave, but the realities of work. Below are some pictures from the weekend. </div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7Adq0aLdyWJ0efMBwhWMKBU_f8HaiKfbRaQkb-i5jv_fzlyPa-zDNBL4HugArRZj0ZH4wE4y2GyU0z_8bDWUWusZGpD0_8NuCvDOVsM8QzIuXX6DrUMeOEgmoRr2hIc0a0Ox-Wa399bSx/s1600/IMG_1494.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7Adq0aLdyWJ0efMBwhWMKBU_f8HaiKfbRaQkb-i5jv_fzlyPa-zDNBL4HugArRZj0ZH4wE4y2GyU0z_8bDWUWusZGpD0_8NuCvDOVsM8QzIuXX6DrUMeOEgmoRr2hIc0a0Ox-Wa399bSx/s320/IMG_1494.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511152389036869666" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Me and Sara with two of her girls she works with</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9KRFx3eJ5wyx6tKqreFGQB2eC9mv6ZV6qaNuu45rm3bo95mJsaVwRl4j9goI7LRi7kFGIgAHuVlOkEbx3qUa-Edoqpj2w6ovT5DQNQOzSlLhpnAUQFv6Flg37sEsoALfkhZWLWCCIL3ay/s1600/IMG_1933.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9KRFx3eJ5wyx6tKqreFGQB2eC9mv6ZV6qaNuu45rm3bo95mJsaVwRl4j9goI7LRi7kFGIgAHuVlOkEbx3qUa-Edoqpj2w6ovT5DQNQOzSlLhpnAUQFv6Flg37sEsoALfkhZWLWCCIL3ay/s320/IMG_1933.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511152380927446146" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Jessica and Me</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyUGU8niiTX5C080lEKFILMXItALHoGeSm4sYde6IQogjfJTfG9C9fF0LAmw_sP2cO8cUlfZCQclkDvuAkiMyuNcosrW2mQ-S5ogPlXooeWoMcbYyXNyaiDrZJpCGhNfTZ055DCko0xx2Z/s1600/IMG_1936.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyUGU8niiTX5C080lEKFILMXItALHoGeSm4sYde6IQogjfJTfG9C9fF0LAmw_sP2cO8cUlfZCQclkDvuAkiMyuNcosrW2mQ-S5ogPlXooeWoMcbYyXNyaiDrZJpCGhNfTZ055DCko0xx2Z/s320/IMG_1936.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511152369951677810" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Me, Jess, and Sara</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjolzJIouCfFYebSml4ilwR4NUCjeJCSktXt5m8uUmNbs_b6z_vHBS4AVOBEzNsMgy1DaTvjty3Gl7c4jnGXdvT36ZSyWgJ35i95wRWYcORPXur0VtiCPt4Lx6dL1mIGYfMQh-aS85Q3jxT/s1600/IMG_1926.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjolzJIouCfFYebSml4ilwR4NUCjeJCSktXt5m8uUmNbs_b6z_vHBS4AVOBEzNsMgy1DaTvjty3Gl7c4jnGXdvT36ZSyWgJ35i95wRWYcORPXur0VtiCPt4Lx6dL1mIGYfMQh-aS85Q3jxT/s320/IMG_1926.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511152356387186322" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Home made whole wheat English muffins Sara and I made - from scratch! </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXf6_ptlgCVEhqeGLnG23TDSnfi0BwUsSKoUQ42nOj0Blnl1HDzkrpWV4dfSOj94eOLTZR3LWyxpiFMQ9W2pgMQ8lkoQCvURgl1oHhMgjjM4xIMV2bXDU8gXtMZ1nWYRPA-FI3Qdd5C0o0/s1600/IMG_1928.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXf6_ptlgCVEhqeGLnG23TDSnfi0BwUsSKoUQ42nOj0Blnl1HDzkrpWV4dfSOj94eOLTZR3LWyxpiFMQ9W2pgMQ8lkoQCvURgl1oHhMgjjM4xIMV2bXDU8gXtMZ1nWYRPA-FI3Qdd5C0o0/s320/IMG_1928.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511152346308946738" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Me slicing up our amazing English muffins to toast in the oven</div>Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10668939694914870791noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4364923400709336318.post-84806817946101370152010-08-27T01:37:00.002-04:002010-08-27T02:00:25.486-04:00I Moved!Well, I did the unthinkable - I moved. I honestly thought I would never move away from my host family, but I had my reasons for wanting to move and I did, yesterday. I will try to give you a mental picture until I post pictures of it, which will not happen until I have it fixed, i.e. unpacked and decorated.<div><br /></div><div>When you walk in the front door you are standing in the corridor - there is a coat rack, small table with a mirror, where I fix my hair and for the first time since I have been in the country have access to a full length mirror to actually check out my outfits! To the right is a room that will serve as my kitchen - it is very spacious, guess lack of furniture will do that, and has a big window giving it lots of light. In that room is a kitchen sink and a fridge. Back in the corridor again, to the left is my bedroom. It has my bed and place for my clothes (can only think of the word in Azerbaijani, can't find the English word right now). But this clothes holder thing has a place where I can hang my dresses, amazing! Haven't had that before either. At the far end of my bedroom is a door which accesses my enclosed balcony. On the balcony is my gas stove - with 3 working burners! I am pumped about that, the gas is a lot stronger than at my old place. So that is the rundown of my apartment. Anything missing!?! You're probably wandering where my toilet and shower are? Well, they are in my own little enclosed yard - outside of my apartment building. I can't get indoor plumbing for the life of my in this country! But, I am okay with it, it is just a short walk to my yard. It is mine alone, I am the only one with the key (I bought a new lock) - there was some dispute on how many keys there were to the old lock so I solved that problem by buying a new one. I still have a squatty potty, but I actually like them so I don't mind. My shower is absolutely fabulous - the water doesn't just drip on my head, but comes out of all the holes on the shower head - its amazing. The shower alone was worth the move to me. However, I do have to heat the water up via burning wood. Didn't try that this morning, little apprehensive, not going to lie - but I will get the hang of it eventually, hopefully before winter comes. </div><div><br /></div><div>Lessons learning: how to heat my water and the water schedule (i.e. when the water comes so I can fill my water tank). Also, where to put my garbage - still a mystery.</div><div><br /></div><div>Lesson learned: Just because I am the only one with a key to my yard doesn't mean I should shower or using the bathroom with the doors open (which I love, not a fan of doors) and shouldn't walk around my yard naked either, which I also like. Why? As I learned this morning, people on the second floor can see down into my yard - opps! lol. </div>Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10668939694914870791noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4364923400709336318.post-47915205209160347642010-08-20T02:50:00.002-04:002010-08-20T02:57:28.633-04:00Soap box for the dayI can't remember if I have announced this or not but I am going vegan. I have already cut out eggs and cheese and recently I cut out milk. All that is left for me to eliminate is yogurt and ice cream (every time I go to Baku I buy a soft serve cone from McDonald's). I won't be able to completely go vegan while I am here because not going to lie, I really like the fresh from the village yogurt. A staple guesting food for me is a aryan, yogurt drink and dovga, a yogurt soup, since I don't eat meat. That and there is no such thing a soy products here so it makes it a bit more difficult.<br /><br />But, back to the point of this post. When I search online for vegan recipes it drives me absolutely insane when the search results say the are vegan and then I go to the site, but in reality they are just vegetarian. For someone with very limited Internet access it is super annoying.Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10668939694914870791noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4364923400709336318.post-5918458405358931942010-08-16T05:41:00.003-04:002010-08-16T05:43:52.861-04:00This is my life.One indication I need to find friends closer to my own age: After lunch today we checked our blood pressures and discussed it over tea.Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10668939694914870791noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4364923400709336318.post-13236841531002111182010-08-10T03:19:00.003-04:002010-08-11T05:45:35.812-04:00Pictures as promised<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLn459E4HHHrKGEmvfKrzylT5SB2QDQU1a9Kq2hYfpTm0-9MKGmoHfbdExWVtgcMHXzfg5eTSAZcsOWx4Tdb7KuFqFT0ZerTJvxLHzcNnyMDXWd40XhdPXm5gEHcgDPLYq1sAWC8vTOAYz/s1600/IMG_2466.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5504085896700990098" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLn459E4HHHrKGEmvfKrzylT5SB2QDQU1a9Kq2hYfpTm0-9MKGmoHfbdExWVtgcMHXzfg5eTSAZcsOWx4Tdb7KuFqFT0ZerTJvxLHzcNnyMDXWd40XhdPXm5gEHcgDPLYq1sAWC8vTOAYz/s320/IMG_2466.jpg" /></a> Yagud cooking vegetable Kabobs </div><div align="center"><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVGuAe6OzB6C-kgeN__SvOv02XZBDhKjHvZWSjV63Qb6OhWZ5luUP86SXG08R6afXN47GI8sKhaDb37Nc_XV3Tm4rTGVj_mvG3EwHoKjQv0aFx1gbNRrrioaMf0-ij4nbWsD4d9B8y3NIv/s1600/IMG_2440.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5504085891495922882" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVGuAe6OzB6C-kgeN__SvOv02XZBDhKjHvZWSjV63Qb6OhWZ5luUP86SXG08R6afXN47GI8sKhaDb37Nc_XV3Tm4rTGVj_mvG3EwHoKjQv0aFx1gbNRrrioaMf0-ij4nbWsD4d9B8y3NIv/s320/IMG_2440.jpg" /></a>Me and Yagud at a small waterfall at a resturant<br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiue0V0xaztvkhAxGL3zOgvNRnrOXbYjq8mHwjuzGr6f-0QIsA1aEdDxnioFxHHCDXFTSL3siScSYi_XTIeQLDlYH0vjggG9XYFwlJvWmbOGmKNGq3CVosrJbFkLWOOHjXWNtYrj9FthkxR/s1600/IMG_2457.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5504084040503972354" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiue0V0xaztvkhAxGL3zOgvNRnrOXbYjq8mHwjuzGr6f-0QIsA1aEdDxnioFxHHCDXFTSL3siScSYi_XTIeQLDlYH0vjggG9XYFwlJvWmbOGmKNGq3CVosrJbFkLWOOHjXWNtYrj9FthkxR/s320/IMG_2457.jpg" /></a> Isti Su (Hot Water)<br /></div><div align="center"><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu8V18FY6kzutPkNKaNYTSI7ruToRIp5wYy70onDmlrdI5ti7MQtZvAHYEtJnQT8fKl5OCag68t4CjpMIefg-roifAopMYn-wjUE18j3tBPvEZDBzGANvVJH-ConRK9-UV3gieYzEsujxH/s1600/IMG_2460.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5504084028419323602" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu8V18FY6kzutPkNKaNYTSI7ruToRIp5wYy70onDmlrdI5ti7MQtZvAHYEtJnQT8fKl5OCag68t4CjpMIefg-roifAopMYn-wjUE18j3tBPvEZDBzGANvVJH-ConRK9-UV3gieYzEsujxH/s320/IMG_2460.jpg" /></a>Me with my hair wrapped, wearing a wool jacket and pants<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-JJFREHtCFDtfoK_RI5PzclXo9q69d9rCfSCA2Yn4Wj6M0uKqB6o_VAjodYkLL135sFQ66HbHULdI3bvcLCZFfoYmVE1z2yOZl0vsJOGJ5MVY3F90ywhT31w9nITh0ikoQ76JQxtBpqvz/s1600/IMG_2433.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5504084022507665154" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-JJFREHtCFDtfoK_RI5PzclXo9q69d9rCfSCA2Yn4Wj6M0uKqB6o_VAjodYkLL135sFQ66HbHULdI3bvcLCZFfoYmVE1z2yOZl0vsJOGJ5MVY3F90ywhT31w9nITh0ikoQ76JQxtBpqvz/s320/IMG_2433.jpg" /></a>Xəyələ and Me outside a dead prophet's tomb we visited<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirKzyKWdtz3S5zNoqVQrtnm1jxgJa7ViZK8qm5k7zzKQe29_cgF8CdolG0g9esB7p5YMSJHDQzuwd6Xp7A2kPhUz3PxGi8yfA9_QgFkCsTen-y6dV5X1H9FqGjj0FLv2IUsYYAX5Z34TTq/s1600/IMG_2425.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5504084015844910850" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirKzyKWdtz3S5zNoqVQrtnm1jxgJa7ViZK8qm5k7zzKQe29_cgF8CdolG0g9esB7p5YMSJHDQzuwd6Xp7A2kPhUz3PxGi8yfA9_QgFkCsTen-y6dV5X1H9FqGjj0FLv2IUsYYAX5Z34TTq/s320/IMG_2425.jpg" /></a> Me and Yagud in Lerik<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqsSln5QehXeTDobfnCFCR0CWoKW-1iqzH72ni5FOqzLPSxDAK9mGe6o9rChokCu_27vRgEoAf5zIx4nQfhXTP38PsEHgeRlfvPPWffADN1DLbnxfloI531lwNg07iZRyvAPwv-nUkKMs1/s1600/IMG_2428.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5504084007725663090" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqsSln5QehXeTDobfnCFCR0CWoKW-1iqzH72ni5FOqzLPSxDAK9mGe6o9rChokCu_27vRgEoAf5zIx4nQfhXTP38PsEHgeRlfvPPWffADN1DLbnxfloI531lwNg07iZRyvAPwv-nUkKMs1/s320/IMG_2428.jpg" /></a> Everyone (minus the person taking the picture) drinking tea in Lerik </div></div></div></div></div><br /></div>Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10668939694914870791noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4364923400709336318.post-79390144567697005542010-08-02T11:01:00.001-04:002010-08-02T11:04:22.363-04:00Azeri VacationsI am on vacation with Yagud and Fizuli in a village of Lankeron. The day I am writing this, Sunday, is day 5 of our vacation and I am having a good time and enjoying it. However, there are definitely some marked differences form an American vacation, I should not generalize, so more specifically there are definitely marked differences between my version of a vacation than their idea. But, that is to be expected. Some examples. We left Imisli Wednesday, and when I say we I mean me, Yagud, Fizuli, and their neighbors who have a family of 3. So we drove the 6 hours in the afternoon heat with me and 3 other people in the back seat of a small 4 door car. We arrive to the village and start looking for a place to stay. The other family is renting a room out of person’s house, but Yagud didn’t like it there so we (Yagud, Fizuli, and me) went to another house. She didn’t like it here either so we went yet to a 3rd house. By this point we are all tired, hungry, and hot. She finally agreed to stay there a night and then decide if we will continue staying there (which we are, guess it grew on her). And we went to a neighboring region yesterday called Lerik. What did we do to mark our time in Lerik? See the highlights of the city? Drive or walk around? No, we went to a tea house, took pictures of us drinking tea, then left.<br /><br />The village we are staying in is known for having naturally heated water springs that people visit for healing and health reasons. So every night we go to this place to sit in the ‘isti su’ (i.e. hot water). Well, there are two types of this hot water you can sit in: for one person it is a bathtub and for families or groups of same sex people (if a man and a woman go they have to be married to go in the same room) it is more of a pool type setting. Maybe a carved out of the ground hot tub is the best description. It is a large hot tub size, but rocks and earth are the ground – if that makes sense. So I went into the single room the first night. The second day Yagud decided I should see the ‘pool’ one (I said pool because the Azeri word used translated is pool).<br /><br />On the second night we went to the hot water place and told the women in charge of collecting the money we wanted a ‘pool’ room. An hour later we were still on the benches sitting outside waiting for a room to open up, this is a crowded place. Yagud is getting impatient, I am getting hungry (it doesn’t open until 6 and we got there around 7). We go wait outside of the door of the room Yagud wants. For another 30 minutes we stand outside the door while Yagud impatiently knocks on the door telling the people in there to hurry up. Another 30 minutes passes and we are still waiting; the original plan was for me and Yagud to go together and then I would leave and then Fizuli would go in with Yagud. By this time we have been waiting so long that Yagud thought we all 3 (me, Yagud, and Fizuli) should go together, but I squashed that (because you do this naked). Then Yagud is fed up so she walks in there and talks to the people in there, who are all women. Next thing I know Yagud is telling me to come with her (this is about two hours after we arrived at the hot waters). So I walk in the room with the ‘pool’ and small area for changing. What do I see? Four naked women in the room going back and forth between sitting in the pool and sitting on the bench and one woman fully clothed waiting for the others. What do I do? Get naked and get in the pool. So here I am with 5 complete strangers, naked, and floating in the ‘healing power’ waters. (From the first night in the bath tub room the un-sanitariness of this gets suppressed from my mind, like I do often during my service.) Not sure what this says about me, but I don’t think twice about the situation. So next thing I know some says my shoe, i.e. my right chaco is in the canal. (The right shoe only being significant because I just happened to pee on that one by accident when I went to the bathroom while waiting for the pool room to be free.) I immediately jump out of the pool asking ‘what do you mean it is in the canal?’ Evidently, leaving your shoes in the middle of the room is a big mistake because the overflow from the pool flows out of the room into some inaccessible canal outside. A woman looks through the hole in the back of the room where the water is draining and says she sees my show. I look and don’t see it. Next thing I know Yagud, butt naked, gets down on all fours and starts reaching her hand through this hole trying to salvage my shoe. Now, don’t get me wrong, I love my chacos. It didn’t start out that way, last summer I killed my rainbows and after mold starting to grow on them I decided it was time to face reality and throw them out. So this summer I had no choice but to start wearing my chacos. Well, I thought (and still do think) they are some of the ugliest shoes I own. But they have grown on me: they are comfortable, durable, easy to take on and off (no shoes in the house here), don’t mold when they get wet; they do leave a nasty tan line on my feet, but hey who is perfect? So, I daily wear my chacos and don’t want to wear any other shoes. All that being said, I don’t love them near enough to get on my hands and knees, butt naked, on the floor of this public bath house stick my arm through a drain where I can’t see what I am touching (huge phobia of mine – reaching my hands in things where I can’t see what I am touching). So, I resigned to losing my chaocs and having to buy a pair of sandals for the rest of the summer. But, not Yagud. She stuck her arm up to her shoulder through that hole (which was not much bigger than her arm) and that paired with a stick was able to save my chaco. Now, all the women in the room are mad at me because I am younger and smaller than Yagud and think I should be the one of the floor. But, I just look at them like they are out of their minds because I would never do that. So after my shoe is saved from its little bath (guess I shouldn’t pee on my shoes anymore) I wash my hair and body, rinse off and decide I have had enough of this pool experience. (Now, on the showering note – the only shower I have here is at this hot water place which is why I daily go).<br /><br />But don’t worry, the story only gets better. Now, take into account it is the middle of summer, ridiculously hot, I just got out of basically a sauna, all my body water has been sweated out, feel de-hydrated and am continuously sweating – what would you do next? Let me tell you what I have to do, and I mean ‘have to’ as in forced to do. Put on pants, wear socks, wear a wool jacket over my tank top, and wrap my wet hair with a towel and stay that way for hours. Am allowed to drink water? Nope. I have to wait for everyone (Yagud, Fizuli and the other family we came with) to finish then we will all go drink boiling hot tea. I kid you not. If I don’t completely cover myself from head to toe and drink hot tea I will get sick. Yagud seriously told me the first night I couldn’t go into the hot waters because I refused not to drink water for the 7 week we will be here. So we compromised, I said I wouldn’t drink water after the hot waters, but during the day all bets were off. So, the second night I got out of my naked stranger experience, pee shoe in toe, sweating my life away dying of thirst. Oh Azeri vacations!<br /><br />ps. pictures to come when I don’t have dial up internetHannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10668939694914870791noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4364923400709336318.post-42507690268948175672010-07-18T09:02:00.002-04:002010-07-18T09:33:49.249-04:00An update at lastIt has been way too long since I posted last. I actually started to write a post a few weeks ago, just now realizing that I never posted it. My bad. I am alive and well and I will attempt to give an update on my life. In Imishli it is still really not and we still have no gas (since May). I officially put my extension request in to Peace Corps and now I'm just waiting to hear for their decision. <div><br /></div><div>I do have a few funny guesting experiences. A little cultural side note: the majority of Azerbaijani people, especially older people, do not like to sit in direct contact with a fan or air conditioning in the summer. They believe that the cool air will make them sick. That being said, my host grandmother has been coming to our compound daily to hang out in the yard with my host family. My host family went inside to sit in their room with a wall unit and then my host dad had friends come over to drink tea and play backgammon. Therefore my host grandmom came over to my house and asked if she could sit in my house for a while because the men were in the yard (women leave the area/room when men guests come and only serve food and tea for them) and couldn't go in the big house (my host family's house) because the wall unit was on. I said sure. She said 'I'm going to go wash and be right back.' So about 5 minutes later my host grandmom comes to my door naked from the waist up - no shirt, no bra. She then proceeds to sit in my one and only arm chair spread eagle with a skirt and no top until the men left. I had to turn my fan away from her so the air wouldn't hit her. I just sat there thinking - wow and laughing in my head. </div><div><br /></div><div>Another time I went guesting at an aunt's house of one of my youth. They live in a village of Imishli. That guesting experience was a mere 7 hours, but it wasn't so bad. We went fishing, milked cows (which I have lost my touch), played cards and chess. Ceyhun, my youth, asked me to play chess with him. I told him I learned how to play chess in 1st grade but hadn't played since then. He then proceeded to say ' Oh, so you learned how to play 20 years ago.' My initial reaction was 'No way, I'm not that old' until I realized, yes I am that old and he was completely right. That was a shocker! I guess to all my youth I am old. It made me realize all my friends at site are either 20 plus years older than me or 10 plus years younger than me. </div><div><br /></div><div>I think thats all I have for now.</div>Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10668939694914870791noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4364923400709336318.post-19006255543993127602010-06-25T02:42:00.001-04:002010-06-25T02:58:39.656-04:00DecisionsI have been asked a lot lately 'when are you coming home?' The question for me was a lot harder and complicated than 'my time in PC ends in December.' For work reasons I have been considering extending my service in the PC. I wavered back and forth for at least a month on what I should do. For me, the real question was 'What do I want to do with my life?' If I could answer that question then I could decide if it would be smarter for me to leave or stay in PC.<br /><br />So, why have I even been considering extending? I <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">originally</span> said to myself that I would never even consider extending unless I had full time work, not as it is now: periods of a lot work and periods of very little work. Well, turns out that I do have full time work in my future. I have been and continue to be very busy with preparing project proposals. I am working with <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">Fizuli's</span> organization to design and prepare two projects dealing with building the capacity of 8 municipalities in 4 regions to be more democratic, transparent and citizen-orientated. There are two separate projects, one focusing on the 8 municipalities and youth and one focusing on the 8 municipalities and women. For the donor organization these projects will be a pilot program to possibly implement in other regions. Each of the projects will be 12 months and will probably start in August. After have been repeatedly asked, by both <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">Fizuli</span> and the donor organization, to extend my service in the PC to continue to work on these projects, I <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">actually</span> started to consider extending.<br /><br />So back to the question of what to do with my life. After much prayer and seeking the opinion and advice of professionals in the various career fields I am considering I have finally come to a decision. I have decided to extend my time in PC for an additional 6 months, as of right now I am planning to leave in either May or June of next summer. (I have until December to give my exact date of leaving the PC and I am figuring out the best date for me to leave in regards to my plans for after PC.) I chose to stay for career purposes as I have decided to pursue the field of International Development. The reason I am leaving next summer is to give myself 2 months (1 month for personal travel in Europe and 1 month to spend with family and friends in the US) before I start graduate school, <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error">inshallah</span>, next Fall. I will be taking the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error">GRE</span> in December and applying in January for 5 graduate programs to receive my MA in International Development or Public Policy (the program name varies from school to school). The schools I am considering are all on the East Coast, the majority in Washington, D.C.<br /><br />So, that is where I am now - one year before I will be coming home. But, the positive side I will soon have access to video <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error">skype</span> whenever I want to use it so I will be able to see and talk to you all for free, if you have <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-error">skype</span>! We will be getting <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-error">DSL</span> in <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" class="blsp-spelling-error">Fizuli's</span> office for the projects and <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_10" class="blsp-spelling-error">Fizuli</span> is going to buy a <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_11" class="blsp-spelling-error">webcam</span> and headset for me to use - so let me know if you want to set up <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_12" class="blsp-spelling-error">skype</span> dates!Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10668939694914870791noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4364923400709336318.post-7557551949099960652010-06-11T02:03:00.004-04:002010-06-11T02:26:53.485-04:00Update at LastAs I was encouraging my youth to create blogs I realized how I have not updated my in a really long time. So, this is me trying to practice what I preach. I am slammed with work, which is nice. I am developing two project proposals that will work in municipal development and civic engagement. I spend most of my time working on the proposals, traveling back and forth to Baku for meetings (who would ever thought driving 4 hours for a 2 hour meeting and then back 4 hours in one day would become routine), talking through the project with Fizuli and staying up late revising and editing the proposals. I also have 3 clubs a week for my youth: sport night, movie night, and English lesson night (my least favorite). I have learned anything here it is that I do not like teaching English. But, I love my youth so I guess it balances it self out.<br /><br />Other updates: It has been 19 days and counting with no gas, ie no hot water and no way to cook food. The gas pipes that serve Imishli are covered with water from the horrible flooding here (as Imishli, Saatli, and Sabairabad regions). But, it could be worse - it could be winter or my house could have been flooded. I have electricity most of the time, last week it was off until around 8 - 10 pm, but this week has been much more steady. I had a end of school party at my house last weekend for my youth. I made too much pizza and cookies, but I think they had fun none the less. I had an amazing time with my mom (she has all the pictures though so you will have to get them from her), her time with me went way too fast.<br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcRUFErMz1ZafE8FSFeU_zZtXukaN12Jgzp1bW6ynPsdKMXa1s2v098O06-4enF51v2HaiJUK6FfLadyGPvylHTx1y42YPYPvgNzYLcrAXMbeImv4IkMEXZvH6AP4PJDvh_AUo-DwJxI7o/s1600/IMG_2294[2]"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5481397315623712946" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcRUFErMz1ZafE8FSFeU_zZtXukaN12Jgzp1bW6ynPsdKMXa1s2v098O06-4enF51v2HaiJUK6FfLadyGPvylHTx1y42YPYPvgNzYLcrAXMbeImv4IkMEXZvH6AP4PJDvh_AUo-DwJxI7o/s320/IMG_2294%5B2%5D" border="0" /></a> My youth at my house</div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUdx94v_qSBUWDaY0WQnWRR2qjxKZAv1fVJEnYhegI56mi6YusHbpDIkHWhaGZe16s5umNS7cnSfw4SIAhdVqf843Xbki7cKTp_MwDbyHKxVGEC4NEMyy2qSZQ8Jad8UY3Bn_J-ve1AljE/s1600/IMG_2271[1]"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5481397308458940098" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUdx94v_qSBUWDaY0WQnWRR2qjxKZAv1fVJEnYhegI56mi6YusHbpDIkHWhaGZe16s5umNS7cnSfw4SIAhdVqf843Xbki7cKTp_MwDbyHKxVGEC4NEMyy2qSZQ8Jad8UY3Bn_J-ve1AljE/s320/IMG_2271%5B1%5D" border="0" /></a><br />My mom at a HIV/AIDS awareness training in Fizuli Region (a project I did, it as nowbeen completed)<br /><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-3a6tAjzw_V5RHR9s_8aX14FtMKHHOylAPNms_B6Qs0JdqTKFt3YbTZAVLGVfUVRxXbxRFzc5YyrWj_c7tQlg6vA1ZvtLc7FdIY0Mj7JdMgxpyUR1L0JyfSDfBoDWu5BfYRZ4G_rzi13O/s1600/IMG_2286[1]"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5481397324910658610" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-3a6tAjzw_V5RHR9s_8aX14FtMKHHOylAPNms_B6Qs0JdqTKFt3YbTZAVLGVfUVRxXbxRFzc5YyrWj_c7tQlg6vA1ZvtLc7FdIY0Mj7JdMgxpyUR1L0JyfSDfBoDWu5BfYRZ4G_rzi13O/s320/IMG_2286%5B1%5D" border="0" /></a></div></div><p align="center">Me, a shot from one of my youth</p>Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10668939694914870791noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4364923400709336318.post-58301161440275390842010-04-23T01:52:00.002-04:002010-04-23T02:07:50.215-04:00New Pictures<div align="left">My host family wanted to chop down a lot of unfruitful trees (<span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">literally</span>, the trees that were fruit trees that were not providing fruit) from my yard. When I heard what was going down I decided to go help them; and when I say help them I mean watch. As my host parents were getting tired my host mom asked me to help cut down one of the trees. I thought, how hard can this really be right? Well, it is a little harder than it looks. I like to blame the dull saw and ax for my absolute failure, but in reality I just couldn't make the cut! My host mom, when she found her breath from all the laughter of watching my horrible attempts, asked me "Didn't your father teach how to do this?" Which got me laughing and I said no. (So mom, for the first time you are not to blame for my failure of knowledge!)</div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSKT-bWGfG73MfqYrOnvoY7vmo9XwDYHR9rZ8HBUsRmihj-gWVOXqSz7qDB2xKABLrkya10yj1C1O0ysmzLFeCj0eWcll5rh7VmGaOO8STpfJghTe9_QUwBwgHRfsDJdZtHvraeyFxCvXK/s1600/IMG_2159[1]"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5463208088039715202" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSKT-bWGfG73MfqYrOnvoY7vmo9XwDYHR9rZ8HBUsRmihj-gWVOXqSz7qDB2xKABLrkya10yj1C1O0ysmzLFeCj0eWcll5rh7VmGaOO8STpfJghTe9_QUwBwgHRfsDJdZtHvraeyFxCvXK/s320/IMG_2159%5B1%5D" border="0" /></a> My failed attempts to cut down the tree.</div><div align="center"><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2arWTc1ADwPHkKe-fkZQxvDmO2S1vE_Sr__zRSwcN7qlLh8jSxjTLOFIfS57WxHB3CfBVNlmvU4wH75D_qYJ45zCEp-CjqN_UhrVea9E8AX31AQuy8F5zef3dSg8GIZX-P4ngIQ8BN3tS/s1600/IMG_2158[1]"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5463208091755034706" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2arWTc1ADwPHkKe-fkZQxvDmO2S1vE_Sr__zRSwcN7qlLh8jSxjTLOFIfS57WxHB3CfBVNlmvU4wH75D_qYJ45zCEp-CjqN_UhrVea9E8AX31AQuy8F5zef3dSg8GIZX-P4ngIQ8BN3tS/s320/IMG_2158%5B1%5D" border="0" /></a> The pros at work.<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnGQqYIFrdhZuXOojG73bnfw0bCRfoIlJhbbJSD-dkcz6LBO-m-5aFUQTJT0ZfVBHosBzB7LOrK1uuR6vl3u8DLw-ESKKuvTdppMfWqEw5lnkSbuCqbrb7RZ9IF5jN6rN5akxOijSs8W8s/s1600/IMG_2187[1]"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5463208078748562626" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnGQqYIFrdhZuXOojG73bnfw0bCRfoIlJhbbJSD-dkcz6LBO-m-5aFUQTJT0ZfVBHosBzB7LOrK1uuR6vl3u8DLw-ESKKuvTdppMfWqEw5lnkSbuCqbrb7RZ9IF5jN6rN5akxOijSs8W8s/s320/IMG_2187%5B1%5D" border="0" /></a> I realized that you all may have never seen a picture of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Yaqut</span> and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Fizuli</span> (my second family here.) These are the people that I consider my closest friends, next to my host mom, and at whose house I can be found if I am not at home or at work. </div><br /></div>Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10668939694914870791noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4364923400709336318.post-79101897665106147752010-04-06T04:50:00.002-04:002010-04-06T05:05:10.843-04:00NovruzNovruz, the biggest holiday in Azerbaijan, just ended. For my 9 nine days of work being closed I decided to go traveling. I went to Sheki, Baku, and Xachmas. Here are some pictures of my Sheki leg of the trip.<br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjMcCMEko2NqD_PW3Hb71JpJwqIQcxfDuFL4NKL7s84aYV2qke-eGyTXqC1yziqr-dpPuvbVzjmYuWRA-PREypjNZe60IhZ1lq8fhftPM14QoAWSJqE6gtGYycb1BSYp1ZPLA4k4yi_BIn/s1600/IMG_1937[1]"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456947309017876370" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjMcCMEko2NqD_PW3Hb71JpJwqIQcxfDuFL4NKL7s84aYV2qke-eGyTXqC1yziqr-dpPuvbVzjmYuWRA-PREypjNZe60IhZ1lq8fhftPM14QoAWSJqE6gtGYycb1BSYp1ZPLA4k4yi_BIn/s320/IMG_1937%5B1%5D" border="0" /></a> Albanian Church in the village of Kish outside of Sheki. </div><div align="center"><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcPZb6ODJkKerZTLLQJJ1xkFjBRDv0Plyk-xKJXuGKA1LHp8uE9XcOTl6YIGBSKigtSHtbWc4jnRw3ntMpKrtX-SQzRV-5jrZ4DqFoLJC-n8DO1NmxSZI7HGcSX7c-YeZwRiUpjRXZn9wv/s1600/IMG_1944[1]"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456947291983880642" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcPZb6ODJkKerZTLLQJJ1xkFjBRDv0Plyk-xKJXuGKA1LHp8uE9XcOTl6YIGBSKigtSHtbWc4jnRw3ntMpKrtX-SQzRV-5jrZ4DqFoLJC-n8DO1NmxSZI7HGcSX7c-YeZwRiUpjRXZn9wv/s320/IMG_1944%5B1%5D" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcPRSh6Y6G0DpSauSxU2RyitU9D6Kpag3DKozVnr45NF-FW6T69WNr6zIx3CqMCNmi0TNCSK6s098CIawC1qGquB9t5lnD7mt6nJh5urUtpaM764eJaJOU6E5WK7JPDyS7Kcaxnu_IWi7S/s1600/IMG_1942[1]"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456947300426150658" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcPRSh6Y6G0DpSauSxU2RyitU9D6Kpag3DKozVnr45NF-FW6T69WNr6zIx3CqMCNmi0TNCSK6s098CIawC1qGquB9t5lnD7mt6nJh5urUtpaM764eJaJOU6E5WK7JPDyS7Kcaxnu_IWi7S/s320/IMG_1942%5B1%5D" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw9Q2VUg2dI3BVSYuuj5YKtZtBXzN0Q4ujrAbrmEcXcOmElT3R_Avf6njzOxBk3C3EYzpKnl1DTXU8_gihycjFpFmDNJqSLf1dQit4cfZYMPrKeF6bENGF2sHSUD0hfgsTtz-dLYP-qNC9/s1600/IMG_1939[1]"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456947273403616114" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw9Q2VUg2dI3BVSYuuj5YKtZtBXzN0Q4ujrAbrmEcXcOmElT3R_Avf6njzOxBk3C3EYzpKnl1DTXU8_gihycjFpFmDNJqSLf1dQit4cfZYMPrKeF6bENGF2sHSUD0hfgsTtz-dLYP-qNC9/s320/IMG_1939%5B1%5D" border="0" /></a> Stopping for tea with fellow PCVs on our day hike.<br /><div> </div></div></div><br /></div>Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10668939694914870791noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4364923400709336318.post-46230023402387263612010-03-05T03:04:00.004-05:002010-03-05T03:37:10.738-05:00I promise I do do more than just guestA friend of a friend (i.e. a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">PCV's</span>, in another region, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Azeri</span> friend serving his army service in that <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">PCV's</span> region) is from a village of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Imishi</span>. My friend suggested I go visit his friend's family. So last Sunday was the day I arranged, through my friend's friend, to go visit his family. I had been talking to the mother on the phone several times through out the week finalizing the arrangements. We decided on a time and that the father, who has a friend with a car, would come get me in instead of me taking a taxi. (Let me just preference I had never heard of this village before so I had no idea where it was. I asked around and got a general idea of the location I was going.) I was looking forward to the visit, I felt like I had everything set up. Time, ride, informed the mother I don't eat meat (even more awkward than telling a complete stranger I am coming to visit and listing off food I can and can't eat is showing up to their house with a huge meal prepared in your honor that you can't eat because everything is meat) - all checked off my mental list. I thought I was ready until Saturday night. I had borderline anxiety about going and that's when I realized I really don't like meeting new people and I have become borderline antisocial. The thought of me being the center of attention for minimum 5 hours of guesting, trying to plan how to politely get out of spending the night (normal for guesting), making small talk, trying to avoid being forced to eat so much I explode, figuring out how I will get a ride back to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Imishli</span>... had me thinking I am too old for this and wandering why in the world I agreed to guest at complete strangers' house.<br /><br />Well, Sunday morning I woke up, I ate as little as possible to prepare myself for what was to come, made a coffee cake as a gift, packed up my photo album (pictures and family videos come out for every guesting experience and bringing my own is a great time filler), packed my box of chocolates for a gift, packed my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">tp</span> (third to keys and phone on my check list when I leave my house, don't like using my hands) and decided it would be easier for me to wait on the main street for the father to come get me (I gave them my address but considering the roads nor houses are marked I decided to wait outside).<br /><br /> So I am waiting on the street for a someone to come up to me, who has never met or talked to me nor I have ever met or talked to him, and ask me "Are you Hannah?" I am banking on him being able to find me easily, since I completely stand out every where I go. After this man comes up to me, then the plan was to get in the car with the two random men and drive 40 minutes or so to a village I have ever heard of and spend the rest of the day at their house. It was not until I was already in the car and well on my way did the thought occur to me that this might not be the smartest plan in the world. It seemed completely normal to me, completely legit for here, and then I started to laugh because I thought this would freak my mom out.<br /><br />But, as I knew I it would be, I was completely safe, everything was fine. The family is very nice and I enjoyed spending time with them. It was a bit awkward at times, but that is to be expected. I only stayed for a little over 5 hours and left with a parting gifts of some of my favorite foods. (They were at a complete loss of what to do with me. They wanted to give me eggs, but I don't eat eggs. Then wanted to kill a chicken for me and give me that, but I don't eat meat.)<br /><br />What I took away from this experience: coffee cake is a huge success and I will now bake it for all my guesting adventures.Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10668939694914870791noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4364923400709336318.post-74486261403951147362010-02-26T04:30:00.002-05:002010-02-26T04:40:42.912-05:00Guesting FunSo I went guesting to Yagut's the other day. Yes, the same Yagut where I had all my facial hair removed and became a dress up doll for her middle aged women wardrobe and wig. So what happened in this latest adventure? Lets just say a picture is worth a thousand words. And I would be lying if I didn't actually want to do it myself. What can I say, I am a girl after all.<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQYDFBhS7EC_crg2FaHT8WHMaIr6g2g9lQ8eVJh8JQpQGQRRDywra2h_ojRu1Jd4aFN-StktespO6fN9RqEuHkECkv49YoA2LAlotzqvzefBswpwFajITImXK31Q1ObZ8jWX0fAeggGRvZ/s1600-h/IMG_1900[1]"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442483167214266770" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQYDFBhS7EC_crg2FaHT8WHMaIr6g2g9lQ8eVJh8JQpQGQRRDywra2h_ojRu1Jd4aFN-StktespO6fN9RqEuHkECkv49YoA2LAlotzqvzefBswpwFajITImXK31Q1ObZ8jWX0fAeggGRvZ/s320/IMG_1900%5B1%5D" border="0" /></a><br />Below are some kids who came to my house last Sunday for pizza. The very first time they have ever eaten pizza. Sometimes I forget that I am the only 'piece of America' they have known or ever will know. Kind of a scary thought. After we ate we played outside a bit with a Frisbee and volleyball and then came inside for a game of Skipbo.<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD3mN-hS5XOScu0f1ser3iXiONcoVrpLKmx7_yWmk0qU8A3jpOel7gTkk0953J4DNafLNz2a3De2eZqm2RiEG42ZlQ2vwDE_45yAxQYVjaO_sHjMH_IK3yIBbhl0Wn8UfqpA5gmUZSCAVQ/s1600-h/IMG_1903[1]"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442483157508069298" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD3mN-hS5XOScu0f1ser3iXiONcoVrpLKmx7_yWmk0qU8A3jpOel7gTkk0953J4DNafLNz2a3De2eZqm2RiEG42ZlQ2vwDE_45yAxQYVjaO_sHjMH_IK3yIBbhl0Wn8UfqpA5gmUZSCAVQ/s320/IMG_1903%5B1%5D" border="0" /></a></div>Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10668939694914870791noreply@blogger.com3