Xinaliq... "the middle of the middle of nowhere"

In order to grab some precious fresh air before school begins in a week, a few friends and I escaped on a final vacation into the middle of the middle of nowhere: Xinaliq. Xinaliq, pronounced like: [hocking a loogie noise] + [in] + [a] + [lick], is an ancient, isolated village located in the north of Azerbaijan, nestled in the barren roots of the Great Caucasus Mountains. Despite a small population of about 500 people, the village boasts its own culture, architecture, traditions, language and religious practices.

The middle of the middle of nowhere.

The road to Xinaliq was dangerous at best; snaking around mountains, cliff faces and roaring river beds. One false move in our LandRover and we would have literally fallen off the side. We even found a wreckage of a car that wasn't so cautious: five people died in what was apparently a case of drunk driving that had undoubtedly resembled drunk flying. Sad. Nevertheless, the scenery was amazing. Breathtakingly amazing. The weather was foggy, which provided a view that was both eerie and beautiful. There were some parts in the road where clouds of fog rolled so quickly that mountains appeared, disappeared and reappeared in a matter of seconds - right before your eyes.

This is one of those mountains.

Once we arrived in Xinaliq, we hiked all around the village and met with the locals. My favorite was the shepherd girl (pictured below) who watched us take "jumping" photos, like the crazy tourists we were. We stayed with a host family and ate on the floor, which made us feel very Eastern. I had some Montazuma's Revenge that night which kept me up until about 2 AM, but luckily there were primo toilet facilities. And by primo, I mean a hole in the ground with trash around it. It's always good to have reminders that you're in the Peace Corps.

School is overrated, anyways.

And that was Xinaliq. The next day we descended from our magical, hobbitish fairy land in the mountains and returned to Baku and Barda. This week I may have access to wireless Internet (!), so you may just see a video here soon enough. Stay tuned!

Da svidanya

I woke up with a cat on my head today and screamed.

The title says it all. I sleep with my door open and a cat must have come in the middle of the night and found my head to be a comfortable resting place. When I woke up, I thought it was a rat and screamed at it, provoking the host family to run upstairs, thinking I had been stabbed by some midnight assailant.



The rest of my day was normal enough.

ABLE Summer camp

ABLE summer camp, or Azerbaijani Boys Leadership Experience (Azeri: Azerbaycan oglanlar ucun liderlik tercubesi), has been in existence for four years now and is still going strong. This past week, I had the honor to participate in ABLE camp and see the great work this program does for Azerbaijani youth.

ABLE camp brings children from all over the country to a central location; this year we met in a small mountain village in the center of the country. Peace Corps Volunteers and counterparts work together to plan, organize and teach lessons & activities about leadership, community and teamwork – values that weren’t the most important during Soviet rule. I brought several kids from my region to participate and saw a change in their attitudes and composures almost instantly! Clearly, being in a positive environment with a bunch of Americans and exemplary Azerbaijani young males motivated the camp participants to set goals for their futures.

Happily, this past week was like a dive into my Scouting past. We dug through the woods for firewood and made bonfires, ate questionable food, played football (well I just watched, but you get the picture), sang around the campfire, hiked through mountain trails, etc. Despite my resolve to live in some sort of city when I’m 30, I can see myself retreating to some foggy, craggy mountain dwelling… granted the modern conveniences of the 21st century are within a few miles. I’m sure such a place exists, right? My favorite part of this camp was the 4 hour hike to a 7th century AD castle, named “Young Lion Castle.” It was, without exaggerating, hidden in the woods among ruined stone walls and worn footpaths. I felt like I had stepped into the Middle Earth of LORD OF THE RINGS! My task, which was to ensure all the kids stayed on the path, was slightly complicated by the copious amounts of wild berries along the side of the road. Every time I got someone back on the path, another kid ran off in search of an elusive berry. Then a rather portly child fell off the side of the steep, zigzagging mountain trail. Luckily a tree prevented him from falling too far.

I had often heard volunteers saying that this experience was the most meaningful thing they had done all service. I now understand why!

Barda sunrise after a storm

I see this every day when I go to work...
too bad the mountain you see is occupied by a certain neighboring country.

The Russian border

Swim lessons... from HELL

This is what the people at the pool look like... in Malibu.

I began teaching swim lessons to young children today at the local pool. Yes, we have a pool in town though it leaves much to be desired. I am fairly sure I will contract some sort of topical disease before the summer's over... but that's OK. Nothing a little penicillin can't clean up.

Of course, I knew that swim lessons in Azerbaijan would be different. Nevertheless nothing could have prepared me for that moment when I walked in the door to the pool. One teacher with... THIRTY FLAILING CHILDREN struggling to stay afloat. The children weren't waiting patiently at the wall for my instructions. Instead they were doing whatever they wanted despite their limitations, namely the fact that they can't swim. Swim lessons last for an hour and a half, and I am fairly sure this hour and a half cost me a few years of life. The lifeguard in me was surveying the pool, which means I couldn't devote all that much time to actually teaching.

This will be an interesting two months. If I don't make it, tell my mom I love her!

Turksen?

"Turksen?" means "Are you Turkish?" I think some of you might know where this post is going. I apologize in advance.

It goes without saying that I don't look like too much Azerbaijanis out there. My hair is far too bright, my skin far too light and my clothes far too... different. I definitely do not mind looking so different, but it is always interesting for me to hear people talk about me. Throughout my time here, I have been mistaken for a: German, Englishman, Russian, Georgian and even a Korean. Very rarely do they guess I'm American. However most of all, surprisingly enough, I am mistaken for a Turk!



*Cue the confused looks*


I have yet to see a Turk that resembles me, but I think part of the reason I am getting more and more confused for a Turk is due to my clothing and hair choices... courtesy of the local bazar. Here are some samples:



1. Pointy shoes. These are horribly uncomfortable, but horribly cheap. Plus there's something inherently manly and fashionable about having points at the ends of your toes.

2. Euro mullet. I'm nowhere near as dapper as this young man, but my hair looks pretty similar. Thank you to the $2 haircut! Actually, this hair gets me so many compliments I almost think that it looks good!



Don't worry, my hair doesn't have that much party in the back... yet. :$

3. Tacky... TACKY shirts. Mine don't quite have the "Ruffles" as immortalized from that Seinfeld episode, but I do have some worthy numbers in my wardrobe including, but not limited to, a brown stretch oxford with gold trim and vertical lines. It is my dress to impress shirt. Lord help whoever has to walk with me when I come back Stateside.