"In today's sharp sparkle"

Tuesday January 20, 2009 11pm Baku, Azerbaijan

“In today’s sharp sparkle, this winter air, anything can be made, any sentence begun.
On the brink, on the brim, on the cusp -- praise song for walking forward in that light. “ – poem by Elizabeth Alexander read at Obama's inauguration.

Listen to the MUSTN'TS
from the book "Where the Sidewalk Ends" (1974) by Shel Silverstein


Listen to the MUSTN'TS, child,
Listen to the DON'TS
Listen to the SHOULDN'TS
The IMPOSSIBLES, the WON'TS
Listen to the NEVER HAVES.
Then listen close to me -
Anything can happen, child,
ANYTHING can be.

I don’t believe I have ever felt as patriotic as I have tonight. At 9pm Baku time I watched Obama become the 44th president of the United States of America, and I cried. I cried tears of joy for new change and beginnings, and tears of gratitude for those who have come before us. I know the appropriate thing for an academic to do is to doubt that change could ever really happen within this system, but I refuse to be handcuffed by fear. We have to believe that change can happen and is possible. There’s always time to be disappointed later so why start now? :-)

I ate nachos tonight in one of Baku’s Irish pubs (Murphy’s) and chatted with a Scotsman who travels around the world doing some kind of radio-training seminars (for communication on the oil rigs). And of course I was riveted to the television during the entire event at the Capitol Building, and I didn’t head home until I watched Bush fly back to Texas in the helicopter. I expressed my joy to the men standing outside the pub (in Russian I said- “Today Bush is finished, and America has a new president- Barack Obama!”), to the taxi driver, and to the man at the convenience store across the street from my apartment building. He was looking especially grumpy, so I gave him a big smile and told him about my new president!




Although today was a joyful day for the U.S., it was a sad day of mourning and remembrance here in Baku. On the 20th of January (“Black January”) they remember the day in 1990 when after rumblings of possible independence Soviet troops rolled in and killed dozens of innocent civilian protestors. The entire city goes up to “Martyr’s Avenue,” an absolutely stunning and beautiful monument that ends with a perpetual fire overlooking the city and the Caspian Sea. You could actually feel the sadness in the air. In 1991 Azerbaijan successfully declared its independence from the USSR.





This past weekend I was shown around Shirvanshah, a palace complex within Iceri Sheher (inner city . . . like old town, stare mesto). This palace was the seat of northeastern Azerbaijan’s ruling family in the Middle Ages. Its 15th century designs are still beautiful (having been renovated a bit in 2003. The intricate carvings and Arabic calligraphy were really quite stunning.

I was quite pleased to then be taken to the miniature book museum. Yes, you read that right, Baku lays claim to the world’s only museum devoted entirely to miniature books. The smallest is only 2mm and is recorded in the Guinness Book of World Records. There were very old small books, very famous small books, small books in all different languages from all different regions, tiny religious books, tiny books of poetry, etc. We had a lovely tour in Russian, which I was mostly able to follow along with. A second visit to the Martyr’s Avenue was followed by a visit to the state cemetery where I saw the very impressive grave of Heydar Aliyev, the former president and father of the current president of Azerbaijan.

On Sunday I treated myself to a nice brunch out and then wandered about in search of the Center of Contemporary Art. It was a small affair, about 3 rooms total, but there were some very striking works. Some abstract, some clearly of people, angels, animals and some intriguing sculptures.

Then I stopped into one of the carpet shops in the inner city that clearly has tourists in mind. The salesman spoke fairly good English and we haggled over prices of silk scarves for awhile, and then discussed why some people say “turn off the light” and some people say “switch off the light,” and other such nonsense. It was enjoyable but I had to be getting back home so that I could meet Mikayil and Kenan for our adventure!

Mikayil, Kenan and I set out in search of Ateshgah Fire Temple in Suraxani, very close to Baku. The site sits in a natural gas vent that was sacred to the local Zoroastrians for centuries, and the temple was constructed by Indian Shiva devotees. It was a bit challenging finding the Temple, because apparently all the roads have been updated, with new lanes, new overpasses, new bridges, etc., but no new road signs! In fact no signs at all, so you really have to know where you are going. Luckily its totally normal to just stop in the right hand lane and ask someone on the street or a cab driver for directions. After a number of fairly funny interactions with various people we found the Temple, but sadly it had just closed for the day. Despite offers of extra money if they opened up, we were refused! So . .. we set out in search of another target- Yanar Dag.


Apparently in the 13th century Marco Polo wrote something about natural gas flames spurting out from the Absheron Peninsula (where Baku is). Most stopped after oil drilling began (something about reduced pressure), but at this one place near the international airport, fire still flames out of the side of a small hill. It is about a 10m wall of fire coming out of the side of this hill completely on its own. It was amazing. I have never seen anything like this, and it ranks right up there with the exploding Gulfoss geyser in Iceland, the mud and heat of Rotarua in New Zealand, and the vast glaciers of Patagonia. Fire coming out of a mountain, people! It was awesome.
:-)

I want to make some general comments before I head off to bed:
-People honk all the time here. It drives me crazy. In the U.S. it would be considered majorly rude to honk as much as people do here, and I often wind up taking offense.
-The owner of my apartment is wonderfully nice and had me over for tea and sweets last night. I got to play with his baby daughter and his wife showed me pictures of their wedding.
-I am enjoying living alone.
-Sometimes the power goes out or there is no water. Usually this doesn’t last for too long, and it doesn’t happen very often . . . so it still surprises me when it happens.
-Sometimes the elevator (which is scary and old and I never use) gets stuck and it won’t stop opening and closing for hours.
-Every evening when I return home from work there are three cats waiting near my door. They make me miss my cats!
- I walked to the U.S. Embassy today because I had some questions. They were closed because it was an Azerbaijan national holiday. They were also closed yesterday because of Martin Luther King Jr. It seems like a rather nice life to me, to get off from work on both your own country holidays and from the country within you work!

Soy Milk, Coffee and Georgian Wine

Posted: 5:45pm January16, 2009

January 13, 2009

7:30 pm

“When you set out on your journey to Ithaca, pray that the road is long, full of adventure, full of knowledge. . . .The Lestrygonians and the Cyclops, the fierce Poseidon you will never encounter, if you do not carry them within your soul, if your heart does not set them up before you . . .” taken from Constantine Cavafy’s “Ithaca.”

Yay! for the Continental Supermarket which definitely cheered up my day! If nothing else it made me feel brilliant for bringing peanut butter with me—they are the first grocery market here I have seen that sells peanut butter, and they were selling half-size jars for 7.9 manats, or about 10 dollars!!! Brilliant work, Anna. My goal was to buy pesto to accompany pasta dishes made at home with olive oil and garlic, but alas, the small pesto jars cost more than $10 each. No pesto for Anna. I DID buy some meringues, some marzipan, some toilet paper, some instant coffee and . . . wait for it . . . SOY milk!! I was so excited to see the “soja!” I can’t wait to have coffee and soy milk tomorrow with breakfast.

Note: As a lactose-intolerant member of society I am always thrilled to see dairy-alternatives . . . this does not mean that I support the way soybeans are grown, nor does it mean that I am unaware of the huge amount of hormones both added and inherent to soy. However, Lactaid milk is not available here. J

As I came out of the market I was surprised to see an empty road. It turned out that the whole area around the Hyatt (where the continental supermarket is) was blocked off and there were police everywhere. As I walked back to my apartment I crossed through blocked traffic and very unhappy drivers. I think some very important person must have been coming through!

As far as food adventures go, I’m still eating a lot of lentil soup, and occasionally other forms of soups as well (borsht, red pepper). At home I have tried a few just-add-hot-water soups ala Ramen, although not nearly as delicious. There is a nice restaurant right near the office that is a bit pricey but their pizzas are a deal—for 6 manats ($7.20) I get a big delicious pizza covered in toppings (including shredded chicken, which is really quite lovely). I can only finish half, and I get to take half back to my apartment for dinner another night . . . still more expensive than donor kebab, but it turns out I can’t actually eat those every night. I actually cooked last night (pasta, oil and garlic as mentioned above), but as my kitchen is not overly well equipped I won’t be cooking any feasts any time soon.

When you boil the water here (as you must if you want to drink it—I drank some the first few days and didn’t get sick, but apparently you aren’t supposed to drink it), the calcium separates out and you are left with quite a bit of white sediment. Very strange. I was much reassured when I learned it was just calcium.

Jan 15, 2009 9:00pm.

I have been enjoying a very fun week filled with “English Conversation Clubs” that have been very exciting. My “students” ask me all sorts of things, including how I think we should solve the problem in Gaza, and if I think Jesus was really God or just a man. We are solving world problems and discussing the fundamentals of world religion. We’ve also discussed the genetic factors in physical attraction, and why love might or might not defy such factors (they are a romantic bunch). I have learned a great deal about the history of Azerbaijan (did you know that in 1918 Azerbaijan declared its independence, and as such was the first democracy in the Muslim world? It lasted for 2 years until the Soviets showed up), the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict, and education in Baku. Everyone is very interested in the graduate school offerings in the U.S., and how it might be possible to get a Masters without spending a fortune.

While usually I head home after work, yesterday I had some energy so I went walking in downtown Baku. I have been trying to find a Russian restaurant recommended by Lonely Planet, but have continuously been coming up empty-handed. Instead I found a Georgian restaurant (“Duxan”) which was lovely. I had absolutely delicious eggplant with walnut sauce, and then a spicy beef and rice soup. I must say that the highlight of the meal was my glass of Georgian semi-sweet red wine. An absolute knock-out. I have to figure out where I can purchase some to bring home!

This past Sunday I had a lovely time walking around Baku, and just exploring and poking around in shops. It was a lovely sunny day, upper 30s and not too windy . . . ideal for wandering. I found myself in a fancy coffee shop where I had a delicious cappuccino and had an interesting encounter with an elderly American gentleman. We wound up going to the ballet later that evening, where we watched a very interesting Azeri-style ballet. As I predicted, it was a love-tragedy. I was only surprised that only 2 of the 3 people in the love triangle died, and not all three. The literary and artistic forms here seem to be heavy on the tragedy and the romance.

I finished Ali and Nino, which ended in tragedy, but overall was an excellent introduction to Arab culture, and to Azerbaijan in the 1917-1920 era. I am now reading my fifth Paulo Coelho book, “The Zahir,” which I am enjoying. Having limited my baklava intake, I am now devouring marzipan . . . I must find a happy medium. Work is fun, and the office has heat (yay!), and we are busily preparing for the conference.

This weekend I believe I will be shown some older bits of Baku that I have not yet seen, and hopefully on Sunday I will go with some friends to see the “Fire Temple” in a nearby town.

For further information on Azerbaijan, please see the NISA website: nisa.az, which may be under construction but should have information under “Country Profile.” I just wrote it today.

Cheers!

Baku- the City of Wind

5:45pm January 10th, Baku

“Few cities in the world are changing as quickly and nowhere else in the Caucasus do East and West blend as seamlessly or as chaotically. Battered Ladas race shiny Mercedes past illuminated stone mansions, shiny glass towers and tatty old Soviet apartment blocks.” –Lonely Planet on Baku

“Some scholars look on the area south of the Caucasian mountains as belonging to Asia, while others, in view of Transcaucasia's’s cultural evolution, believe that this country should be considered part of Europe. It can therefore be said, my children, that it is partly your responsibility as to whether our town should belong to progressive Europe or to reactionary Asia.” – a fictional and less than neutral professor in Baku on the dawn on of WW1, in Kurban Said’s classic novel “Ali and Nino.”

It has been a cold and windy week here in Baku. The wind actually has the power to blow you a few steps this way or that . . . having never traveled to Chicago I have no idea if we have the same strength of wind in the U.S. I arrived to a few inches of snow and ice that turned into slush and mud over Sunday and Monday. The city was beautiful under the snow, a little dirty after it melted. Baku is a strange mix of modern buildings gleaming with glass and metal, and old sturdy soviet buildings . . . some that have been revamped and some that have not.

I had a lovely reception by my hosts here at NISA, and I have been very well taken care of. My apartment is nicely decorated, warm and comfortable, and only a 5 minute bus ride from the NISA office. In addition, I am about a 5 minute walk from the upscale Hyatt Regency area where upscale Italian and Chinese restaurants are excited to take rich oil exec’s money.

My first day in Baku, Mikayil, the executive director of NISA walked with me all over downtown Baku and in the old town area. Iceri Seher, the historic Old City has small cobblestone streets and is much less developed than stare mestos (Old Cities) I have visited in Eastern Europe. It manages to maintain some of its traditional atmosphere in a way revamped Old Cities do not. The hamams (bathhouses) are hundreds of years old but are still active and used by the males of the town. Mikayil and I climbed the Maiden’s Tower where we were afforded a view of the Caspian Sea as well as of Baku and its surrounding hills.


We strolled along the Bulvar, the road along the Caspian where street vendors sell cotton candy and balloons to families. The wind and cold drove us back up towards the busy modern city center where we wandered past expensive stores, restaurants (and McDonalds!), and through the Tourist Bazaar. We had donor kebab in pita bread which was delicious and peach juice to drink.

On Sunday I went bowling with NISA alum and students who will be attending the NISA Winter Session that I am helping to organize. It was great fun, and the bowling alley was newer and more shiny than any bowling alley I have ever seen in the U.S. We played two games and then I went for a walk with a few new friends. We took a bus up the hill to Martyr’s Lane which is a very somber (and clean) memorial to the Red Army’s 1990 attack in Baku after an attempt at independence. There is large ever burning flame at the end of the walk that we crowded around to get warm! We took the funicular down the hill (very exciting, I don’t think I’d ever been in a funicular before!) and found a restaurant to eat in as we were all desperately hungry!

I’ve spent the week in the NISA office, going out for fabulous lunches of lentil soup and traditional Azeri foods (yum! Meaty!). My favorite meal was xingal, meat and sour cream served over some kind of gooey-flour-made substance. It is dark, cold and windy in the evenings, so only twice have I been brave enough to explore a bit, since my warm apartment is so inviting. I have developed a bit of an addiction to the baklava which is delicious but very expensive. This does not bode well for my wallet or my waistline. Also, it is very cheap (around $2) to get a yummy lamb meat and a salad mix wrapped up in lavash (sort of very very thin pita type bread) for dinner.

I have been reading “Ali and Nino” which is a very intriguing story of Ali, a Muslim Azeri schoolboy from an aristocratic family who falls in love with Nino, a Christian from a wealth Georgian family with European sensibilities. It is the time of WW1 and they are living in Baku. As the story is told from Ali’s point of view, I am exposed to all sorts of cultural norms and practices that I have never before researched much or learned about. I have never personally made a study of Arab culture or customs, and I find myself encountering a very different kind of world (at least for fictional Ali in WW1 era Baku). I have drawn no conclusions as of yet, but generally I am very worried for the long term possibilities of Ali and Nino’s relationship.
Just a few things I have noticed—I am sure I will have more things to share as the month progresses . . .

The police are everywhere . . . walking, standing, guarding, and of course in their police cars pulling over traffic violators. As my new friend Yalchin says, “We have many traffic regulations, but no one fully implements them.” The strangest thing about these cop cars is that they have PA systems from which they broadcast instructions to offending drivers. Imagine you are walking down the main street in Baku, past a billboard of a smiling President Aliyev, and you hear a siren followed by loud, angry directions in Azeri (loud enough on the PA system for everyone within two blocks to hear). I have to say it is very strange, and it happens quite a bit, especially at rush hour.

The traffic is indeed quite scary and my most invigorating moments of the day are often when crossing the street. Does anyone remember the game frogger? Well crossing the street here is just like “frogger” only with humans. Mom, please don’t look up the game.

Luckily I usually take the bus which costs only 20 kopecks and deposits me very close to my apartment and work. The only trick is that you must tell the driver when you want to stop (except for a very few large fixed bus stops), and if the bus is packed and you are at the rear, that can be very difficult. The trick is to secure a spot near the front and to not be afraid to voice your need to STOP. :-) Having missed my stop once and been forced to hail a cab to make my way back (luckily every taxi driver knows where the Hyatt is), I am now a bit more vocal!

I spent today (Saturday! no work!) wandering around Baku and poking in bookshops and clothing stores- it was lovely! I had a very expensive but delicious burger at the Sunset Cafe, which is very American in style. I found the only English-speaking bookstore and purchased a "Learn Azeri" cd-rom that I hope to delve into soon.

I have had the feeling all week that something is very basically different about being in Baku, then any where else I have ever been while traveling (or at home). I think I finally figured out the basic reason why things just feel so DIFFERENT . . . there really aren't tourists here. It is the largest city in the Caucasus, and if there are any tourists, you certainly can't tell them apart from the locals. In every capital city in the world that I have been to there have tourists. I also, very clearly, am not a local. This is easily seen by the color of my skin, my eyes, even my hair. I think there is some chance that at times I am passing for one of the small members of the Russian population here, but most of the time I think I just look like a blond British doll. Thank goodness I speak some Russian so I am able to communicate, order food, etc., and not completely stick out.

I have noticed that whenever I am in a big-city (well, "big" is a relative term), I tend to adopt the "city" affect-- bored and slightly irritated as if I am thinking that I may be too cool to even be in this city. I think I learned it in New York.

Hopefully pictures will come soon, the internet is slow for now.

:-) HUGS!