Incredible Inedibles pt. 2

The sunrise over the Caspian, the boulders at Gobustan, and me on the aforementioned wrecked Soviet tanker, the Bolshevik NN Manov.

But wait, there's more!

One striking feature about the food scene here is the produce. It is, in a word, indescribably amazing. The best tomatoes I've ever eaten in my life have been here, and the rest of the fruits and vegetables live up to this standard of quality. During the harvest season virtually any type of fruit or vegetable can be found in the markets here, and almost all of them are super cheap. For instance, while in the States you may pay upwards of two bucks for one decent pomegranate, I can buy a kilo here for around 50 cents. Same goes with apples, pears, tomatoes, onions, and anything else. You can get 5 kilos of potatoes here for the price of a pound in the States. And, in addition to all this wonderful stuff, there are quite a few things which are quite rare in America, and some which are not available at all. Of fruits, there are things like quince, persimmons, and strange unidentifiable melons. Stranger still are things like feyxoa, small green things that look like miniature limes and have a slightly grainy texture and sour taste. I've also been served some sort of small brown fruit resembling a radish which I can't remember the name of. Whatever it was, I quickly found out that the only way to eat them was to let them overrippen, i.e. rot, so that the flesh turned brown and gooey but tasted quite sweet.

Of course, all this amazing fresh produce would be for waste if there wasn't a way to preserve it, which is why Azeris are masters of the arts of canning and pickling. I've eaten jellies, jams, preserves and conserves of every fruit imaginable here, all homemade and kept out back in a shed in old mayonnaise jars. Additionally, pickled green tomatoes, peppers, and cabbage are served at almost every meal. Fruit compotes and juices are served quite often alongside tea at the dinner table, especially if one is sick, as they are rightfully considered to be very healthy. Also, a type of preserve made of eggplant, tomatoes, and carrots called "ikra" is eaten with bread or on pasta like tomato sauce. This confused me quite a bit when I first ate it since ikra is the Russian word for caviar, but my family and teacher assured me it's just another type of "ikra", which incidentally doesn't contain fish eggs. Nevertheless, it is quite tasty.

The harvest season only lasts so long, so once winter comes around there needs to be a way to keep fruits and vegetables in ones diet. Since they don't have a southern neighbor named Mexico here, or the money or infrastructure to import fresh tomatoes and apples in January, these people have become quite skilled at preserving what they have to be used at a later time. It is goodness.

Incredible Inedibles

One of the most interesting parts of being in a new culture is the things people eat. In the US we have a vast variety of foods from all over the world available to us, as we are a nation of immigrants, and because of this we may sometimes forget that in most countries the only things to eat are whatever the ethnic populace has to offer. Here, that means Turkish food. However, owing to the fact that Azerbaijan has, at different times throughout its extremely long history, been conquered, occupied, or inhabited by Mongols, Talish, Tatars, Persians, Arabs, Armenians and Russians (to name a few), there are a variety of different foods that have been adapted from these cultures.


In Azerbaijan, unlike in the US, there are six main food groups. They are: fruits and vegetables, meat, sugar, grease, bread, and tea. All of these are sure to be found in abundance at any Azeri meal. Eggs cooked at breakfast will usually be served swimming in a pool of grease that is equal to twice as much mass as the eggs themselves. The same goes for potatoes, pasta, and anything else that can be pan fried or have butter added to it in any way. Bread is served at every meal, usually with butter and cheese. In this part of the world bread is considered sacred, and is treated as such. None of it is wasted, and if a piece of bread is found laying the street, you will usually see someone go pick it up, kiss it three times, and then place it on top of a wall or windowsill so it won't be left on the ground. Along with bread, tea is served at all hours day and night, steaming hot. Iced tea is a foreign concept here, and considered to be unhealthy as Azeris think drinking cold liquids leads to illness. And instead of putting sugar in the tea as we do, a sugar cube is placed in the mouth and then tea is sipped through it. The final mealtime staple is sweets, which Azeris consume with such fervor that it leaves me seriously wondering how the majority of the population isn't diabetic.


As far as actual dishes go, they range from the delightfully tasty to the indescribably awful. Among the best is dolma, a mixture of rice and minced meat that is wrapped in cabbage or grape leaves and then boiled in a stock. This is by far the favorite Azeri food among all the Americans here. Also quite nice is doner, a grilled meat quite similar to gyros that can be found at most Mediterranean restaurants, which is served either in bread or lavash, a ubiquitous flatbread here that is like a cross between pita and a tortilla. Lahmajun, a staple of Turkish places here, is a flatbread pizza-like tasty treat which was, even though Azeris would never admit it, adapted from Armenia (or so I've read in my giant Russian cookbook). Furthermore, a huge variety of soups of all types are served everywhere all the time. In fact, with my host family I eat some sort of soup or stew at least once every day, sometimes for every meal. All of these are delightfully delicious, excepting one: the dreaded Xash. This evil concoction is a stew made from the head and bones of a cow. All parts of the head, brains and all, are cleaned and boiled in a pot for hours on end with the leg bones and hooves. The end product is a rank, gelatinous bowl of goo filled with unidentifiable hunks of meat which, due to being boiled for hours, are left which a texture comparable to extremely sticky, steaming-hot jello. I've been served this only once so far, and I made it through about a quarter bowl before I had to give up. I've eaten some worse things in my life (sea urchin roe comes to mind), but I gotta say it's in my top ten of nastiest things I've put in my mouth. My Azeri family and friends strongly disagree, saying that Xash is a hearty breakfast food that will make you big and strong. I told them if that's the case, I'd rather remain weak and scrawny, and I'll stick to eggs, sausage and potatoes for breakfast.

It's all just a game...

More pics, including a view of the city of Baku as well as a view of the desert outside of Gobustan. The kids from my house (the twins are Aydan and Faydan, the little girl with the pointy hat is Zeynab, my "niece" who calls me Ami (uncle), and the boy is Fared, a totally undisciplined and awful demon child about which I've said innumerable nasty things that I do not see fit to repeat here). The dude standing with me is Mehemmed, my storekeep about whom I've already spoken, and the Arabic script is on an ancient gravestone that is on display in the old city in Baku.

Azeris are, like most members of post-Soviet republics, ridiculously good at chess. I've so far I've only beaten one Azeri out of all the ones I've played, and that just because he's really not a chess player and was just playing to get a chance to speak English with me. The other day I went to my store to get a soda and was carrying a chessboard with me, and Mehemmed closed down for 10 minutes to beat me without mercy in a game. It was hilarious, every move he kept saying "Excuse me Kevin, pardon me" as he steadily wiped out every piece I had on the board. Everyone from friends and host relatives to random guys at kafes and chayxanas are so ludicrously good at this game that I feel certain that, by the time I leave this place, I will be experienced enough in chess to totally whoop anyone who challenges me.

In addition to chess, there are other games which are quite popular here, all of which we have in the US but which are played with various different rules because Azeris love to do things their own way. The most popular game, considered by many to be the national game, is nard, the Azeri version of backgammon. You can see old men sitting in shops, kafes, chayxanas, on street corners and pretty much anywhere else playing this game. Since I don't know how to play backgammon in the US, I'm not sure how the rules are different, but suffice it to say that even if I hadn't been told so I would know it's not the same as in the States. For one thing, it seems to me that every move the player is required to slam their pieces down with such force as to simulate a small earthquake. Additionally, this most important of rules is applied to every other action involving pieces which can be physically slammed onto a board or table, including, but not limited to: chess, checkers, dominos, vodka shots, paying for things, supplementing conversation and getting the attention of others. I can only hope that after two years I haven't adopted this concept, or I may find myself getting kicked out of every library and restaurant I go to.

On my way out

Some new pictures! First is me sticking my finger in a "mud volcano", which are located around Gobustan, an ancient site we got to visit that has cave drawings which are older than Giza. They weren't that exciting, but the view of the Caspian and the hills over the steppe from there were amazing. The second is the road I walk down every day to school. Third is a graveyard that can be seen from the train from Ujar to Baku, and is a typical illustration of how most of that 5 hour ride looks. Next is a picture of a man fishing off the coast of Sumgait which was taken right next to the wrecked Soviet tanker you can see at the bottom. The black stuff you see on the ground is, no joke, oil. The majority of this country's GDP comes from "neft" and "qaz", oil and gas, and I think from this pic you can see why. Finally, the other pic is from my language class, where I attempt to learn to speak the absurdly difficult language of this country.

So in less than two weeks I'm heading out to my permanent site, Ujar, so I'm in the transition period where the relationships I've developed here in Sumgait are seeming a bit less important to me than the road ahead. Some things are starting to get to me, most of which are related to the demands of PST (pre-service training...one of about a thousand acronyms I've had to learn in order to understand anything anyone working with PC (peace corps) says to me. If you're gonna keep reading this blog, get used to them). I feel about as burnt out on training as I can at this point, and I really feel that until I get to site and really start teaching there isn't much more they can train me to do. In fact, outside of the language instruction, I feel that most of my training has happened on my own time.

I've taken to going to the store and cafe by my house during my free time to buy snacks, drink 60 cent beers and talk with the locals. I've met quite a few people this way, which has set me apart from some (but by no means all, as I definitely wouldn't classify myself as "Mr. Social") of the other trainees in my community. Among these are the storekeep down the street, named Mehemmed, who always greets me with "CHEVIN, MOY FRIEND!", which is a perfect illustration of the pidgin language I've developed in speaking with my new acquiantances. "Chevin" comes from the Azeri accent, in which the letter K is pronounced as "ch" in many instances, which leads the PC language teachers to constantly argue about which way of saying it is correct; "Moy" is "мой", Russian for "my", and "Friend" is part of Mehemmed's vast vocabulary of about 10 English words. For the most part we speak Russian since it is the language I am most comfortable speaking, though I do throw in some Azeri when I know what to say to show I'm at least trying to learn the local tounge. There have been a few occasions when I was feeling down and out because of all the attention I get everywhere for being a foreigner, and after spending an hour or so in this store talking with the locals, shaking hands with every man that enters, and being given free pomegranate, peanuts and shots of vodka, that I felt like a new person upon leaving. It's good to know that even here, when I need to, I can go to someone and just unwind.

This also happens at the cafe now, where I've come to be known by all the waiters and constantly get invited to tables by random people who want to talk to the American. For the most part these people are all very nice, and willing to share with me their tea, vodka or food, and talk about their country. The only real problems come from discussions about enemies of Azerbaijan, of which there appear to be many according to the opinions of some people. Chief among these is Armenia, the neighbor to the west of Azerbaijan with whom armed conflict has been happening on and off since the late 80's. Most of this centers around Nagorno-Karabakh, a region in the southwest of Azerbaijan which is currently occupied by Armenian forces, who claim that it is an independent republic. Azerbaijan does not agree, and references to the "Armenian Terror" and monuments to fallen soldiers in the Nagorno-Karabakh can be found in every school, every town center, and every government building. There are currently over 1 million internally displaced persons in Azerbaijan who were forced from their homes in Karabakh and the surrounding regions, and though there is currently a cease-fire in the region it's disputed status means that further hostilities are little more than an irresponsible gunshot away. This means that I, as a foreigner, get to have the situation explained to me by every new person I meet, who then always wishes to know what I think about Armenia and whether or not I share their hatred for them. It's hard to validate such statements while still remaining neutral, so when I can I try to avoid the subject, but on a few occasions I have been pushed and pushed to give an answer, and I say this. "If I were not an American, sitting here, in front of you right now, I really think you might as well be telling me that America and it's people are your enemy as well. But this is not the case, I am who I am, and knowing this, I'd like to think that if I was an Armenian you would show me the same respect as an individual human being as you are showing me now". Hopefully that will hit home with some of them...

Greetings from Turkey pt. 2

(Here are some of what will hopefully be many pictures to come. The first is a ridiculous sign that will surely make Ilya and Brian laugh. The second is a mosque in Baku. The third is a picture of me in front of the Maiden's Tower in the Old City of Baku, and the Fourth is my cluster, including my teacher Ayten in the middle.)

Though this place is generally known as "Azerbaijan" to those of you who've looked at a map of Eurasia since the fall of the Soviet Union, or happen to know where the Caucus mountains are, it's essentially just a big front for a post-Soviet version of Turkey. The people are ethnically Turkish, the language is mutually intelligible with Turkish, all the music and movies and television shows are Turkish, and once you get to know some people here you will constantly be reminded that Turkey and Azerbaijan are "two countries, one nation". I find this to be quite interesting, since the people of these two nations are essentially the same but have been separated by various occupying forces throughout history. If only I shared their enthusiasm for futbol, awful music and soap operas I'd be in heaven.

There are quite a many things about this place that are vastly different from my home. The respect you recieve is determined by age and gender, with older males being automatically allocated more respect than anyone else regardless of their position in life. Women here definitely don't have the same sort of freedoms and equalities that they do in the United States. Though they are not forbidden by law to participate in any activities that men do, the overwhelmingly conservative nature of the culture here dictates a majority of their actions. For instance, women do not smoke or drink, do not drive cars, do not go to teahouses, and are not to be seen in public with men unless they are related to them by blood or marriage. This is driving many of the female volunteers here insane, as they are expected to fall in line with the cultural expectations of their host country, if not just to fit in then for fear of ruining their reputations. Women who cross the lines of cultural expectations are often immediately labeled as "loose", which essentially means prostitute. It's even harder because they, as women of the Western persuasion, are already considered to be "loose" due to the fact that the majority of exposure to western culture here comes from movies, which leads people to believe that most Americans spend their time being involved in car chases, conspiracies, shootouts, and general decadance and debauchery.

Needless to say, these false perceptions of America have created some problems for me here in explaining myself. On more than one occasion I have been regarded with great suspicion by authority figures who believed that I was a spy. People tend to think I am filthy rich and ask how much money I have, how many cars I own and other such intrusive and bothersome questions. I find this annoying, but use my limited language skills to ease my way out of the conversations by saying "Basha Dushmuram", which means "I don't understand" (it literally translates to "it did not fall on my head", which is kind of funny to think about). Sometimes it helps to be a stupid foreigner who doesn't speak the language!

Anyways, that's it for my first post. I've got plenty to talk about in the future, so keep a watch on the blog. Drop me some comments, I wanna hear what you've got to say. Peace out,

-Kevin