Only in Azerbaijan

So we were pretty sure that Honeydog had a UTI a few weeks ago, so we called up the local ex-pat animal shelter and asked for a vet. It turns out that they had opened a brand new clinic for dogs and cats very close to us. AND office visits were only 10 manat! So we packed up the circus (babes, me, V, and Honeydog) and went to see this vet.
The vet's office was in the basement of a house in a part of town under serious construction (We had to drive through a construction site to get there) but was fairly nice. The house itself must be huge because the basement had three rooms and a pool. It was fairly clean, and only smelled mildly of animal. The staff was fairly nice, but the vet and the veterinary nurse did not immediately inspire confidence in us. First of all, we arrived, the doctor came out and what impressed me most of all was his stench (yes, I know you can shower ever day but if you don't use deodorant you still smell, but WHOA!), but whatever, this is common overseas, Americans are overly fussy about smells. But then, Honeydog moves to greet the vet and he does one of those little Azeri moves where he tenses up and holds his hands out in front of himself. Now while I can't say for sure that he was afraid of dogs, I can say that he did not look comfortable handling a dog. And his nurse, well she wouldn't come anywhere near Honeydog's head. They conducted their business, although a little stiffly because it's hard to conduct a physical exam of an animal that you are not comfortable touching and gave us prescriptions and I think everything's ok, but I've got to say. Why be a vet if you are afraid of dogs?

The End is Near!

I can't believe that I have *probably* less than four weeks left here. I am always so anxious to be gone, but then when it gets right down to it, I don't actually believe I'm going until I'm already somewhere else. I guess this is the problem with ex-pat life always coming and going. But, I have so many reason to be glad that we're going. For instance, tonight, I went out for dinner with a group of mums (that's British for moms) and I spent a little more than $50, and there was only two bottles of wine! Before we would have a drunken debauchery (for an American, at least, apparently for the Brits it's only dinner) and it would have run me maybe $40. Prices are steadily going up. I know it's the same in the US, but my mind is already set for the belt tightening. And if necessary I can get cheap Chinese food or Pizza.
One thing I am going to miss though, is that everyone here loves children. I know I've written about it before, but I just can't get used to the fact that guys, boys, teens, young adults, love babies too. When I'm walking around with Zora teenage boys come up and look at her and play with her, it's just too weird. In the U.S. We would be in the group completely ignored by that age group. What have we done wrong in the US where we no longer adore children? When did it become a bad thing to breed? Why are we ok with that?

Counting down

So instead of napping, I am thinking of ways to waste time (because I've got soo much extra time) in the final few weeks we are here. I think I would like to take the camera out and snap some shots of things around Baku that we do all the time. We were supposed to do it in china, but never got around to it, and now I'm sad that we didn't... although not really. I also need to find a place to print off photos so that I can finish Zora's scrap book and put pictures from Africa in an album. I should also do Kiev and Odessa, but I know that I won't get to that before we go. But that can wait since I don't have an album for those pics anyway.
I am also trying to finish crocheting a present for a friend who is going to have a baby. This will be the first thing that I have ever made for a non-family member and I'm a little nervous. I'm also mad that I chickened out of the orange. The brown I have is so boring and not cool. Maybe I'll finish this, in enough time to make another one in the proper orange color and I'll give this one to someone else. I know three babies due in Nov/Dec so I'm sure I can find someone to give it to.
I really should go take a nap.

Naps and poo

I'm trying to figure out what the link is between naptime and poo time. For some reason lately whenever I put Babes down for a nap when she wakes up she has left me a present in her diaper. Which is not a problem except that she likes to cuddle for a little while after she wakes up so I have to sit with her all cuddled up smelling like serious stinky poo. Is it that she's all relaxed and it is therefore easier for her to get business done, or should I be waiting for her to make her presents before she goes down for a nap (except that I never know which nap is the surprise nap). Case in point, she has just woken up, is sitting on my lap very stinky, yet all cuddled up while I write this. I think she might be ready to get a new diaper. P!U!

Date night!

So Saturday night we left Babes with a baby sitter and headed out for a night on the town. (Although when I say "night" I mean evening or maybe mere three hours) And since we are leaving Azerbaijan soon (Wooo HOOO!) we decided to forgo the normal, well I guess this could be Italian food if you squint with one eye and hop on one foot cuisine and headed out to a place that served Azeri food. One of the better places to go in Baku is the Beh Beh club (I wonder what that means). We hit the one just out of town that kind of looks like a traditional house and has live performers. The building itself was very neat, I guess a traditional house looks a little like a ski lodge with a garden, all wooden and sloping roofs. Inside it was modestly decorated with candles and various kinds of Azeri copperware, dolls in native dress, and candles.
The musicians weren't bad even though they played elevator jazz (although I have to admit, that I do like elevator jazz). However, the belly dancer was... well, here's the thing. I think, I have never seen it live, that belly dancing can be sensuous and a very unique art. HOWEVER, most places when they boast having a belly dancer usually mean a stripper who is not taking off her clothes, but wearing a belly dancing costume. I keep going because I keep hoping to see tastefully done belly dancing.... but no. If I was going to have a belly dancer in a restaurant I would find someone who could dance, then have her only accompanied by a drum, a wind instrument of some kind, and maybe a tambourine. But I guess that's harder to find, it is easier to find a young woman, put her in a costume and tell her to shake her stuff to Russia's Madonna equivalent. But that's neither here nor there.
The other interesting thing was that we were there at the same time as a birthday party. There was the general feasting, and then as the night progressed some dancing. I've only seen it once before, but this is the first place I've been that has it's own unique form of dancing. Most clubs that I've been to all over the world have about the same booty shaking dances that the US has. But here the women give their wrists and hands a little flick as they stick out alternating feet with a little hop. There's almost no booty shaking going on at all. The men do something similar, except that their hands do not flick and they usually tap their foot against another male partner's foot. I wish I was better at describing or I could think of what it reminds me of. It's very interesting and looks pretty cool, and is one of the truly unique things that they have going on for them here.

No more help

So I've been back for a full week plus now and completely without help. And I have to say, I should have fired the maid sooner and hired someone else. It just goes to show you how much she irritated me that I would rather mop my own floors than have her around. Which really, if the goal of having domestic help is to make your life smoother and less hectic, do you really want someone around who is just going to make you angry when they leave?
On a different note, Huzby is out being consul. I was out at a going away party and I got called home so that he could take care of a citizen in need. I felt very wife-of-a-super-hero-ish. I was at dinner and I was totally like "I have to go! There's an American Citizen in trouble and they need.... (insert heroish music) the US CONSUL!"

Bored

I'm so bored with my own blog. I think it's mainly because I've turned into a mini-hermit here in Baku. I can't figure out why. But I can never think of anywhere to go, or work up the desire to actually go anywhere. The mere thought of leaving the house is enough to wear me out for the entire day. I know I'm supposed to take Babes out to help her explore the world, but there is really nothing here within walking distance to go to, and what there is you have to cross several streets of death to get there. So we are in the house. But I have vowed to do things differently in DC. For one I have decided NOT to put her in daycare while my husband studies Chinese. So either we get opposing Chinese class schedules or I am going to be a SAHM in the US, which I think will be infinitely harder on my ego because in the US I actually could be working at a successful career, unlike here where I'd probably be answering phones for people who wouldn't understand why I'm not thrilled to be answering their stupid phones, or why I haven't taken the Foreign Service Exam. But! Since DC is supposedly where we could end up spending a significant portion of our lives Babes and I are going to fully explore it and discover all there is to know about DC with a Toddler.... at least until it gets cold.

Back in Baku Again

So my promise to blog more while on vacation did not pan out. But I'm back in Baku and this time it's to the finish. When I leave again, I think it will be for good (unless by some small miracle we get to go to Tbilisi). I don't think I'm ready to be back though. I had planned to go to baby group this morning but when it came right down to it, I just couldn't face the idea of getting in the car and fighting my way through traffic to baby group. I haven't even been outside in the two days that I've been back. I should go out today. It's a pretty enough day that I should make the effort to get out, maybe I'll even take the dog.

on the home front

We are at my parent's house, settled in for the long haul. Well, it's not actually that long. We have less than a month left, probably closer to two weeks now. But it's been good. Babes is enjoying spending time with her Big Mama and Popop. She has really taken to my mom. Sometimes it seems like she leaps out of my arms to get to her. Strangely enough, I don't feel jealous. I used to get a twisted sort of satisfaction when Babes wouldn't go to anybody but me, but now I'm actually glad that she will go to other people. It is still twistedly satisfying when she leaves everyone else to come back to me, but I think I'm growing! I definitely don't want to be one of those mothers that smothers her child. Or won't let them do anything that they didn't pick for them.
But it is different being at home with a baby. First of all, I am not staying up late. As I was telling my parents my alarm clock doesn't have a snooze button. So any time I stay up late I suffer the next morning. Sad to say, but I'm in bed by ten or eleven every night. That means, however, that I am up the next morning before eight. I remember the days when I was home before and I would want to get up to watch Charmed, but would almost never make it up before E.R. came on at 10. Not anymore! I am often up and have had breakfast before Charmed comes on at 8. Not that I watch it, because it's hard to watch TV and keep an eye on a little one who has learned to climb stairs.
My parents are also doing a very good job of staying out of it. They let me do what I feel is necessary for Babes, and don't try to give me a lot of extra advice. I really appreciate it because I know it's hard. But their restraint makes my coming home much easier. If they were constantly telling me this or that I don't know if I'd want to come home as often as I do.
I love my family.

Behind Enemy Lines

So this weekend I am visiting my in-laws... by myself. I volunteered to do this because my mother used to do it with us, so I figured that I could do it too. (Truth be told I didn't think my husband would take me up on it, but once it was out there it was too late to take back) I have been worrying over this for months. Ever since I agreed/volunteered to do it I have been fretting and grumping. When it finally came down to it, only sheer stubborness got me in the car and going. I remember too well the months of visiting that we did where I was little better than a houseplant or a chair for all people noticed me. In the past I was never spoken directly to and most conversations took place in Russian, even when I was sitting at the dinner table. I endured.
I am here now, and I have been pleasantly surprised the whole trip. His parents have been friendly I have had whole conversations with them - in English! I think it has actually gone better this time than it usually goes with him here. Usually I let him talk and I try to stay out of the way so that he can bond, but without him here, there is no one to do the talking for the family except for me. So I have been forced to talk and to share.
I didn't expect it to be this way, but I wouldn't mind coming back again by myself, and possibly even staying longer. I took a leap of faith when I came here and was richly rewarded. God is good.

DONG!

 

Last night as we were getting ready for bed we heard a loud "DONG!" and I said "that is the sound of some fool running into the pipe across the road!" We ran to the window and sure enough, there was a Niva smack dab in the middle of the pipe.
But wait, I have gotten ahead of myself. Yesterday morning I got up and looked out onto what could be called "confusion circle" and noticed that they had place a huge steel pipe across the road where the truck used to be. It looked pretty solid, and people did not seem to be trying to drive around it like the truck so I didn't think anything of it. Until last night. After the first dong we snuggled back down to bed, and then a few minutes later there was another even louder "DONG!" this time I didn't even get up. But it turns out that some poor fool in a Lada had hit the pipe and he was not as lucky as to be able to drive away. An ambulance was called, the police came, a crowd formed (all this is after midnight) and the poor driver was taken away. Now you might think, why did these poor souls run into the pipe. Well, here's the thing. The pipe is a dark copper color during the day, and at night is only a slightly darker black than the surrounding night. It is strung across an unlighted stretch of road. The pipe is layin in the road just after a curve in the road, so if you are speeding, the pipe is only visable for a few seconds before impact (to make matters worse, most people do speed up as they come around the curve since it is going uphill, and they want to keep their momentum). There is also no warning that there is a pipe ahead, no construction signs, no police cars, nothing. Even last night after two cars hit the pipe, and the police came to write a report, they still did not post a sign, or a car or anything. I did hear them yelling for a good ten minutes last night, and I asked about it this morning, but they were only trying to get people to move so the ambulance could get through. They didn't stay to warn other cars or perhaps set out some cones, nope, they just went home. *sigh* I need a life, I am finding this way too entertaining.

trapped in the past

I know I've written a post on this before, but I still think it's fascinating how our image of ourselves as adults is often limited by how others saw us in childhood. I've been watching a little reality television (a show here or there while I wait for Zora to wake up from a longer than normal nap) and I'm always struck by the self image problems that people have that have nothing to do with how they are now. For instance, the fat kid who grew up to be an attractive adult woman still carries around that fat kid persona, she hunches in on herself, won't wear certain clothes because they make her look bigger, etc. Or kids who, for whatever reason, felt like they weren't getting enough attention, as adults they jump all over people to make sure they get heard.
I have it too. I once had a party where only one person showed up (and it really wasn't because people didn't like me, I just waited too long to plan) so I am forever afraid when I invite people over that they won't come, even though that party was almost twenty years ago now. If people are just a little late I start to worry, and make deals with myself. "if one person comes it won't be so bad" or "well if they call it's fine" and I've never had this problem again, people always come, it's just the only black kid in school who can't escape the fact that she is different that I can't grow out of.
Which makes me wonder what it's going to be like for Babes. I would want to protect her from this, but protect her from what? No matter what I do there will be something that doesn't go her way. And she should learn to deal with it. If I smoothed the way for her all the time, when would she learn to handle disappointment, teasing, or unpopularity. It would be nice if I could have grown up popular, beautiful, wonderful, but then I would be a different person. The troubles that I experienced and overcame as a child helped me to be who I am. Even if I am still freaked out by children playing ball because of my ball magnet head.

Gotta love it

Babes and I went out for an impromptu lunch downtown at Cafe Caramel. It was great Babes and I shared lunch since I didn't bring food for her (you know impromptu) and she was actually very good throughout the whole lunch. The other ladies were very impressed with her careful eating skills, and I have to admit Babes put on her best "I'm the cutest" act so, of course, everyone was charmed. On our way out to catch a cab, I got lost (as I always do downtown) while I looked for the perfect place to catch a cab. I usually try to get a cab going in the right direction so I don't have to sit through any death defying car maneuvers but I always get turned around downtown and end up wandering around far longer than necessary. While we were wandering we passed the Aladdin toy store which I always drive by, but parking is a nightmare so I never stop in. It always looks so happy with the bikes and stuffed animals in the window. Well I walked in today and yes the toys are nice (same stuff they have at other toy stores here) but the sales people were watching something questionable on TV. Granted the store was empty, and it was the middle of the day during the week. But I was there and in the three minutes I was in the store I saw a naked woman murdered. Now I understand that working in a store is boring and watching TV helps to pass the time, but naked woman murders? To make matters worse neither person even bothered to look up to find out if I needed anything. It makes me miss the US.

FUBAR revisited

This morning my hubby says "hey there's a huge pileup of cars waiting to drive on the sidewalk out here!" So I had to go check it out, and then I was stuck at the window for the next hour watching the clusterf*&k unravel. I know I get way too much pleasure out of this, but I couldn't help myself this morning. I just had to stand at the window with my camera and take some pictures. It was great! Ok, so you know how they are fixing the pipe up the road and the north bound lanes of our street are blocked off by a giant flatbed. Well I guess this morning they forgot to post a sign or block off the entrance to the north bound lanes from the gas station so the drivers, in their infinite wisdom, seeing the traffic in the south bound lanes (which both north and south bound traffic are sharing) thought to themselves, well I'll just go over here on this street which is all empty and has to be loads faster! Then they get to the truck. Well most people just hopped the curb, and drove through the narrow gap to get to where they could drive again. This worked pretty well, except that only one car can get through at a time so by the time 9:15 rolled about there were cars piled up four across ten deep down the street, each vying for their shot at the one car passageway over the sidewalk. Then, some guy going to the military complex across the street from us parks his car on the sidewalk in front of the one car passageway (I didn't see how this happened, and how he didn't notice the steady flow of cars trying to get through, but whatever) and a minibus gets stuck, can't go forward because of the parked car, can't go back because of the traffic jam of cars four across ten deep, and now everyone is stuck. Some guys in the middle of the line kept trying to get people to back up, but Azeris have an awesome sense of entitlement "why should I move for you, I've got every right to be here." Plus, cars kept piling up in the back.
Finally, someone gets the bright idea to move the truck. So about 15-20 Azeri guys get out of their cars, suits, pointed shoes and all, break into the truck, and start to push it out the way. Well they don't get to far, so they come back with boards and sticks to shove under the wheels and this time they finally get it moved about a foot so the minibus can make its way through and traffic can flow again. By the way, during all this I saw at least five or six cops standing around watching the mess, not getting involved because it's not their jurisdiction, I've also got a picture of a police mobile going through the one car passageway over the sidewalk. HA! Anyway, I took a bunch of photos, and I have to say that these are definitely worth more than my descriptions by far.

FUBAR!

Ok, so it's not a real FUBAR situation (if you don't know what FUBAR is ask around), but it is totally hilarious! Most of the time I hate living on one of the main streets of Baku. The honking horns and revving engines all times of the night is enough to drive anyone bonkers. BUT when it snows, or on days like today when they do something odd to the traffic patterns, the window onto the street is like a microcosm of the society as a whole.
Let me explain. I guess there is some pipe somewhere further up the road that is not doing so well, so they have ripped up the road to repair it. In order to do this they had to shut down one whole side of the street. Earlier today they came with a flatbed truck and placed it across the affected lanes and had some police guys blocking the way. Now in case you haven't lived in the developing world just because there's an obstacle and people are telling you you can't go this way doesn't mean that it necessarily applies to you. In fact, despite the HUGE truck blocking the way, and the sign and the rest of the traffic going the other way, about one car in ten tries to come down the street anyway. They drive up, drive past the sign, get to the huge truck and then have to turn around. The other drivers are either not paying attention or don't really care because there are often two or three cars trying to turn around at the same time.
Since this street is a major artery, they can't just close it off completely, so they have both directions of traffic going on the same side of the street. Which means on a four lane road you have three lanes going north and three lanes going south. (I'll wait while you think about that) Add to that one lane blocked off both ways for stopping mini-buses and parked cars and you have a street that is FUBAR.

All About Poo

You know, I never realized just how much of your time can be dedicated to poo. No not Winnie the Pooh (that would be cute), but actual poo (the biological kind). Before I owned a dog, I never put much thought into it. I mean for the most part, I would take care of my business and not worry about it. After I got married I only thought about my husband's habits to the point that it interfered with my own plans. When we got the dog though, poo became a fifteen minute conversation. Did she poo, how much did she poo, was it right away, hard, soft, etc. I thought that was gross, but with Babes, large chunks of my day are consumed thinking about poo. Has she pooed, when was the last time, how often, etc. I think what's even more disgusting is that I am also worried about what it looks like. Color, texture, consistency, you name it. And I have to say that it is still gross. But necessary. Poo is such a smelly way of determining whether or not things are working as they should. Poo too hard? Not enough water. Too soft? Maybe some GI issues. She can't talk, so I have to read her poo to determine if there's anything I need to worry about. Instead of tea leaves I look for sins in poo. Ahh mysticism at its dirtiest.

Picky

*SIGH* we are trying to buy a carpet. I hate when we are trying to make a major purchase because we can never seem to agree on anything. And if we do agree we can never make the jump into a purchase.... Mainly because of me. I am so fickle that I really want to LOVE something before I buy it. I don't generally like carpets, so I'm terrified that we are going to buy something, take it home, and I'm going to hate it after two days. But I know we need to buckle down because we're running out of time, and if we don't buy a carpet we won't have anything to remind us of Azerbaijan.

It's all over now!

Ah, Babes has finally taken her first steps! I thought they would have come sooner so I was all psyched up for the ride, only to wait for WEEKS past the time when I thought they would come. Only now that they are here, I'M SCARED! I can already see that walking is going to be MUCH faster than crawling, even though the little crawler was FAST! Which means there's that much more destruction to get into. *SIGH* now that she's taken those steps maybe I should just start carrying her around from now on.

Road Rules

So after living overseas in two different countries I have noticed some things that Americans might not know.
For instance:
1. The proper way to run across the street through traffic is to: lean forward slightly so that your head is in front. Then hold your arms stiffly to your sides but angled out slightly behind you so they look a little like wings. Finally, don't take wide steps, but shuffle quickly.
2. In your car, instead of signaling a lane change, drift slowly into the lane beside you until the car in that lane is either a) forced off the road or b) forced to slam on brakes
3. Signs, general road rules, traffic lights, those are for the other guy, not you.
4. Lanes painted on roads are purely decorative.
5. Do not spend more than 2 seconds parking your car. If it doesn't quite fit on the first try, leave it.
6. It is unnecessary to pull over to stop and let people out of your car or talk to your neighbors.
7. Major traffic maneuvers should be made while talking on the phone.
8. As soon as the light changes you should blow your horn so that the person in front of you knows that it's time to go.
9. As a pedestrian you should wear the darkest colors you own while crossing the street at night.
10. Your horn is a very important piece of car equipment, it should be as loud and obnoxious as possible.

Lost in Translation... again

On Wednesday I was taking a cab to dinner when the cab driver started talking to me. It actually makes me a little proud that I was able to follow this conversation at all. In the past I would have just looked at him blankly...
Anyway, I'm going to try my hand at a dialog so here it goes:
"where are you from... cuba?"
"no, I'm from America"
"oh...something something Americ(some kind of ending) beautiful" Here I thought he was hitting on me so I made some non-committal noise.
"what America is not a beautiful country."
"OH!" I thought to myself!
"Yes" I answered. "America is very beautiful."
"Baku too?"
"yes, Baku is also very beautiful." Like I'm going to say No Baku is ugly.
"Ah this is very good!"
Silence for awhile, we drive through some traffic, and a few idiots do stupid things.
"I once had a friend who was Cuban."
"oh?"
"Yes, very pretty. She was also Black." The word for black in Russian sounds very similar to the N word in English, I almost said "What did you say about my Mama? But then I remembered a conversation I had with my language teacher about what to call black people, so I relaxed. He continued....
"Her name was (I immediately forgot the name."
"oh that is a pretty name." meanwhile I'm thinking to myself why are you telling me this.
"She loved me."
"hmmmm."
"She returned home to Cuba, and I couldn't go because something something Mama."
"Oh." What should I say to that, especially since i didn't understand all of it. I then asked to get out early and gave him an extra dollar because of the story. BUT, I then told this story to my language teacher, who got very excited about Cubans (she claims he was complimenting me by asking if I was from Cuba since all Cubans are beautiful).
She said that while she was a student, they had tons of Cubans in Baku studying. Apparently at the college she went to, the first two floors of the building were classrooms and the upper floors were dorms. So every day at the beginning of class the professors would send a student upstairs knocking on the dorm doors to tell people to come to class. One day my teacher was selected for the door knocking duty and she was knocking on doors, then she came to the door of one of the Cubans and she knocked. Suddenly the door was open and standing there in the doorway was a naked Cuban boy... one hand on the door the other covering his privates. She said she was speechless. Then from behind him in the room up popped two women (I cannot say whether or not they were also Cuban, once again my language skills have failed me) also naked. And they said "HI, X, come join us!" She was astounded (and I think she is still astounded to this day!) and she fled. She got back to class, and the teacher asked her if she had woken everyone up, and she said yes they would be down shortly. Before too long had passed, he came into class as if nothing was amiss.
I really do think she was slightly enamored of this Cuban. Even after all this time she still has that look when she describes him. She said he was tall, slim, with a good male figure. Long straight legs, and a cute little butt! (all this was in Russian, can you believe it!)
This is why learning languages can be so much fun!