I did it.

Moo-licious.

I ate a cow head. I actually ate a cow head.
As you might imagine, it was a horrible experience.

Sumgait

Now that Pre-Service Training is coming to a close (I get sworn in on Wednesday) I have to think back on the twelve weeks I've spent in my settlement of Saray and all I've learned here. I'm glad to say that Training was a worthwhile and beneficial experience for me; language has been a breeze, I've made good friends, and I have plenty of hilarious stories. But nothing has been more central to this Training experience than the mysterious metropolis of Sumgait. Sumgait is the third largest city in AZ and is situated in the center of our Training villages, so that whenever the entire PC group meets up, we meet in Sumgait. It is every PC Trainee's internet, beer, and entertainment haven. And as crazy as it sounds, I'm going to miss this place when I leave in four days. What can I say about Sumgait, the city of escape?

Sumgait is a purely Soviet town that is just now discovering its Azerbaijani roots. It is on the Caspian Sea, and once served as the USSR's capital of chemical engineering. This era of chemicals has come to halt, thereby slowing economic growth but ironically alleviating the high rate of infant mortality and sea pollution. According to my Travel book, Sumgait used to be the world capital of infant mortality and one of the top ten polluted places in the world. Yet I have to say, even as you peer into the evening smoke haze from the nearby factories, there is something eerily charming about the town's winding pipe mazes and rusted metal fixtures. Every now and then you find a candid glimpse into the Soviet era; in the form of an overgrown theme park, countless Technicolor apartment buildings, modern art sculptures made of cement, old men doing their daily Soviet exercise routines by the seashore, a corroded Cyrillic sign inviting citizens to enjoy the "City beach," or the giant red rusted hull of a ship still idly waiting at the dock. It's a very nostalgic place, and if I were more of a solitary person, I could easily spend hours by myself wandering around. I'm not sure I'll ever come back to Sumgait, but I will leave here with very fond memories. Partly because of friends and family, but I think mostly because of Sumgait itself. It's good to be here.

All aboard!

One and two and three and four!

Sag ol vermek!

Not exactly a turkey and mashed potatoes

Or Thanksgiving. Actually, there is no direct translation for Thanksgiving, though Lorena, a fellow PC person, valiantly attempted to use this phrase. Alas, all she got were blank stares and horizontally shaking hands (Americans shrug their shoulders when they don't understand; Azeris shake their hands horizontally, kind of like half clapping). So many of you have sent me letters and cards (extra thanks to Mrs. Lois!), and I want to reassure you all that I did indeed celebrate Thanksgiving, and no I wasn't (too) lonely. On the day of, about 15-20 Trainees got together at Lorena's house to celebrate this very American holiday. Since narrative format is so boring, I'll just summarize with witty bullet point remarks.

• Lorena's house was a mansion!
• Thanksgiving also turned out to be Linda's 60th birthday. Sorry Linda for making that information public, but it's OK; you look damn fine for 60 years old.
• We each brought our own food contribution.
• I brought a veggie platter, because I can't cook. This deserves its own paragraph.

The story of the veggie platter:

So I first decided to bring chips and salsa, but soon realized I had no idea how to make chips, or salsa. Woops. I thus begged to change my item which turned out to be no problem. I did, however, have to go into the central city and purchase some veggies. I bartered with the friendly bazaar man for peppers, tomatoes, and olives. He was nice, but was probably the 54th person to ask me to take him to America. My response to this is always: "Inshallah (God willing!)" and a big, American smile. Works every time. Anyways, I got home and cut those bad boys up with my host mom's help (she didn't like my cutting technique. Or my arrangement patterns on the dish. Or the pace at which I was cutting. In fact, she did most of it), and voila my first party food contribution. I hope next time it will actually involve cooking something, but baby steps. Baby steps.

So that's pretty much it about Thanksgiving. I'd have preferred being home making fun of my grandparents for having voted for McCain, but alas, life is tough. Not too exciting, but it was great to spend this holiday with other Americans. Christmas will be another story…

Azerbai-journal #2

There is perhaps no better cross-cultural activity than PhotoShop. No matter where you're from, it's still funny to see your head grafted onto someone else's body. This is precisely what I have been doing the past few days as a way to entertain my host family. What started out as a recreational pastime has now turned into a full time job. "Jeremy, I don't like the guy in this picture, can you take him out on your computer?" or "Jeremy I don't like my smile in this picture… can you fix it?" Since most of the undesired photos are in hard copy format, I've ended up taking pictures of pictures and then going from there.

I'm glad to say I'll be retiring from this position in a few weeks, though I have to say I've gotten pretty good.

Azerbai-journal #1

So I am going to try and start an entry called Azerbai-journal (because I'm corny) that will just be a post about a random adventure I've had. It is too complicated to speak about each day and every challenge that comes my way, so these types of posts are an effort to better familiarize you all with my everyday life. And - as if this was unexpected - to make you laugh. So here you go:

I like to talk loudly, and I like to smile. These are two personality traits that consistently gave me away in France as a foreigner (a nefarious anglo-saxon!). I'd say these traits continue to give me away as a foreigner here in AZ, but I think there are a few other (primarily physical!) traits that are more noticeable that take care of that. Anyways, a few days ago I was in a little market and decided I wanted to chat with the shopkeeper. After we moved beyond the normal pleasantries, we started talking about Azeri food and which were my favorites. We quickly got on to the topic of khash, or cow head. Yes that's right… cow head! I told him I never had it, but would like to try it (being a fan of the TV show Survivor has made me incredibly eager to try "different" foods). Before I knew it, I was formally invited to his house for some cow head cuisine.

Now, let's be honest with ourselves, would this ever happen in the States? Not the cow head degustation (though I'm pretty sure I've had worse in my university's cafeteria), I am referring to the random invitation. I think first of all, if someone came up to me in 7-11 and wanted to "chit chat" and invite me to his house, I'd think twice about this gentleman's motives. I'd then spot the nearest exits and make my way to the cashier. Yet this was a completely different situation and this why I love Azerbaijan! Hospitality is so important and people genuinely enjoy having guests. I think we Americans have a lot to learn from this fundamental aspect of Azeri culture.

So, long story short, I went over to this guy's place and had a great time. Jon, another trainee, also came along for the ride. We hung out and watched TV, drank tea, and had a good lunch. Alas, no cow head this time (apparently khash is a morning only meal… bummer!). It just turned out to be an incredibly positive experience and surprisingly easy. If this is any indication of the next two years, I can't wait!

A day in the life of Jeremy Jeromovich

Well, I haven't had much time to update this wonderful blog, so I'll do my best to summarize as short and sweet as possible. Until December 10th, I am a Peace Corps Trainee. As such, I have a very rigorous training schedule every day in order to adequately prepare for the next two years. Every day pretty much follows a typical pattern:

• 8:00 Wake up
• 8:45 Walk a mile to school for language lessons
• 9:00-1:00 Azeri language lessons
• 1:15 Lunch
• 2:00-6:00 English teaching practicums/sessions/etc.
• 8:00 Dinner with the family

When you're in a different country, constantly being forced to speak in an unfamiliar language, a day such as this can seem twice as long! Thus, I find myself going to bed some evenings around 10:00… something unheard of during my college days! Soon enough I will miss this rigidity, once I arrive in site and discover I have no formal schedule at all. Oh well… until then I will continue to do all that's asked of me and practice my language.

Some thoughts on my family

I have a habit of getting extremely attached to my host families (ouais mes chers, si vous lisez comme vous m'aviez bien promis, vous saurez bien que je parle de vous!). This family here outside of Baku is no exception. I am utterly convinced that Peace Corps placed me with the best host family in Azerbaijan, and I will be extremely upset to leave them come December 10th. Besides the good cooking, great room, and excellent hospitality, I actually feel like a part of the family. Here are a few fun, quirky examples of my role in this family:

• I am allowed (and encouraged!) to answer the phone. Even though I get completely flabbergasted if the caller is not a family member, I take this right to heart and answer the phone as often as I can.
• I am in charge of closing the chickens' gate and door. I lock the old blue door every night with the same, awed reverence that Ralphie from A Christmas Story has when he fills his Red Ryder BB gun.I hug everyone, which apparently is kind of uncommon for Azeris! No matter though, because they eat it up!
• My aunts often watch me while I eat, stroke my hair, and smile at me from across the room.
• My uncle gives me INTENSE back massages that involve snapping his fingers… with my back skin between them! It feels good though, I won't lie.
• The host cousins and I draw with markers as often as we can. Even though we have no "toys" per se, we have a great time fooling around with paper airplanes and whirligigs. They are so cute I can't stand it!
• I wash the dishes when my mother isn't looking. Women have enough to do around here that I try to help when I can, even if it's not really "man's work." I know she appreciates it even if she doesn't admit it. Sometimes if we have guests, she'll ask me to wash dishes or clear the table, and the guests watch with amazement when I do it. She will sit and smile approvingly… which I suppose makes me something of a domestic attraction. "Look what my American son does!" I feel bad for the Azeris that have to keep up with these Jones'.
• When I left for Baku last weekend, my mom called to make sure I was okay. How cute is that?
• My host brother carries me around on his shoulders for entertainment. He's very big.

I leave their house soon, but I plan on keeping contact with them as best as I can. I will definitely visit them in the future (inshallah… or God willing!). Here's to hoping that my next host family will be just as awesome!