Boarding House for War and Labor Invalids

Sounds scary right? not the best name in the world, but it wasn't that bad of a place. The government funds it, and war and labor victims with no one to turn to, and no relatives to help them, are allowed to come and live here. I did not take any photos of the actual persons housing there, yet I did get some of the actual buildings. The grounds were actually quite large, and you could see many elders strolling across the grass, or rather dirt, and walkways. Some sat in groups and discussed things which those over 70 speak of. Sharmeen, (one of my close friends), her mother, and I walked into the building while her driver unloaded lunch for the residents. We entered the dining room, and I immediately took out my camera and started snapping photos.
























While waiting for the cooks to assemble and prepare the meal, Sharmeen and I found an old piano in the corner of the room. After asking her mothers' permission we began pounding out memorized pieces, except they didn't sound the greatest. Of course, this was partially because neither of us has actually ever taken lessons. But, the piano was lacking as well. One of the keys would stay down after you pressed it, and to play the key a second time, you would need to lift it up back into proper position. It also hadn't received a visit from the tuner in recent.


Next, we explored a little. We found some parts of the main building which we were in to be under construction and had to avoid construction workers and brushing against the freshly panted walls; we found this out the hard way. After leaning against the white walls, Sharmeen's coat turned from black to dusty white. Luckily, this was easily brushed off, moments after noticed. There were some very elaborate, though somewhat depressing murals on the walls, and two shrines and memorials to the famous, or rather infamous, Heyder Aliyev.

















We also seemed to have discovered the storage room.



















Next, we poked our heads into the room of one of two of the boarders, and discovered and old couple. They had a small room, in comparison to a hotel, with a table, bed, tv, furniture, carpeting, and other decorations. They invited us to stay, but we declined, and headed outside instead.
































In this distance here, you may be able to, or you may not be able to see the elders sitting and wandering around the grounds.






Here, someone has hung up the days laundry to dry in the sun and wind.





Next, we returned to the indoors and wandered about the kitchen before serving the elders food. The staff were not very accepting to us, and seemed to want us just to butt out. But we insisted on helping, as we were wanting to experience the culture and atmosphere up close in the home. We even discovered a large pile of squash at the dead end of one whitewashed hallway.




























We took large trays piled with plates of food, and distributed them among tables. We gave two meals to some with a waiting Tupperware, who wanted extra food for later. We stood in the doorway to the kitchen getting plate after plate filled with steaming food set on our trays, and just as we tended to be ready to go and take them to the elders, one of the actual workers would come and take our piled plates, and put them on her tray. Then she would leave to distribute the food. We would again slowly take plates to our trays as the kitchen persons filled them with food, and then the same worker would come back again and steal them all away, to do the work herself. This repeated a number of times, and as Sharmeen's family Pakistani friend tried to insist that we wished to help, and was shunned (yet laughed, as it was all very funny), Sharmeen's mother finally stepped in and gave the worker a good scolding. And when the worker tried to sneak off with the tray she was carrying, she whisked the tray from her hands and handed it to us. We meekly accepted it, and went about the work. When her mother left however, the old practices resumed. We bid the time watching. When it was time to leave, we said thank you and collected the empty pots and pans; these we dumped in the trunk of the car. We gave our final thanks and drove away.

Popcorn

...is really good.

It's not really that I thought you all would enjoy an image you could get anywhere. I just needed something to catch your attention and alert you to the posting from NOVEMBER that I finally finished--because I started it back then, the blog program stuck it below the one you've likely already read. So skip down and read "Rear Window."

I need to buy more popcorn.

Slow Connection Blues

Well, it's been nearly 3 months--during which time we had the pleasure of 3 week-long visit from Grandma/Mommy Janet and nearly 10 weeks of Dad/Doug. With such great distraction, the blog fell by the wayside :(.

Well, we are now back to just the 2 of us and ready to blog, but we have moved to a much cheaper, much more "local" apartment and location where, we are told by our old ADSL company, the state run ADSL company has a stranglehold on new connections--and our company says that while we could try going with the state company, they have heard about very bad experiences of tacked on streaming traffic fees and that the state will just cut your phone line if you disagree and refuse to pay. Who knows, but we decided to stick with trusty dial-up, which suffices for email but sure pales when it come to uploading pics.

I tend to believe it's no coincidence that the market for ADSL appears competitive in areas where foreigners tend to live--and competition disappears when you move outside those phone numbers prefix areas.

Speaking of utilities--we've had multiple visits this past week from "utility bill collectors" in our new apt--this happened sometimes at the old place as well, with results that Doug may be documenting in his forthcoming newsletter on his time in Az. I saw our electric bill--there was no past due and this months bill was a mere $6--which we gave the landlady money for and she said they'd go pay for us--I believe her. We did the same by taking a gas meter reading and calling the gas company to get the amount to give them to pay for us. She says she pays water--nothing from us for that. She's a very cautious woman, in fairly constant terror that we'll forget to turn of the gas heater at night and not wake up in the morning (a legitimate fear when I think about how the embassy would surely become involved and cause all kinds of problems for her--though I doubt she's thinking that far ahead!).

The first few utility visitors we sent away by being linguistically stupid and saying we were just guests. When I told the landlady, she was so worried she came in person after work to inform the innocent Americans about how there are lots of bad people in Azerbaijan and never to open the door to anyone we don't know or risk being robbed and our throats cut. Because of her excited and many times repeated gestures, I would have had no trouble with her Azerbaijani even if I hadn't just learned the word for "cut" (I learned throat some months ago--handy word). So today I just peered out at the knocker and ignored subsequent knocks when I recognized the "electric" lady from a few days ago.

I think what happens is a lot less sinister than the landlady imagines--but still no fun. I think that there are folks who follow the billing cycles--maybe employed by the state utilities, maybe not, who come by wanting to "take care of your payment." Of course there would be something off the top--or on the top. I am continually amazed at the level of corruption that is built into the economy here--no one can really survive off the bribery grid as far as I can tell--but more on that in Doug's newsletter. (See this is really just a teaser post.)

Our apartment is really quite comfortable--cold in the kitchen/bath, but main room is warm with the feared gas heater (actually not a very scary device). The gas flash hot water heater only works with high water pressure when the city turns the pumps on for a few hours morn and night. Well, even then it has been an iffy appliance and I'm getting ready ask for it to be replaced if they can't make it more reliable. Hot showers are nice...Happy teenage daughters are even nicer.

I'll try a picture upload now--cross your fingers! It worked (took about 7 minutes). It's one of Doug's series on construction safety. I think those will make an appearance in the newsletter as well. I don't have any pics of our new place on my computer, but will hopefully add those next time. Please forgive less photos from here on out...I'll try and make them tiny kb. The second photo here shows a giant mothy thing that I thought was a tiny hummingbird at first--anyone want to ID it? It has a huge body for a bug and flies like a hummingbird.
--Alison

Rear Window--First Apartment, Downtown

Ready for some urban archeology? And right outside the kitchen window! But first--it's REALLY March 14, 2008. This was started waaaaaaay back.


Here's a series of photos of some construction that occurred in our old courtyard--which clearly used to be part of the the old food bazaar (vegetable, fruits, a meat seller, rabbit seller, various spices, nuts etc.) this wall backs up on. The first photos show the wall as it was.


The project involved tearing out the first layer of stone blocks and weed trees that had grown into the wall, closing up old windows (into the bazaar) and rebuilding, smoothing, and painting--oh, and making the garbage area much narrower to allow for another car to park there--that made the garbage area so narrow the garbage workers have a time getting in there to the dumpsters...


















This next photo reveals the arches that must have once led into what is now our apartment's parking lot. Since our building is at least 80-100 years old, that makes the bazaar probably part of original city infrastructure.


The bazaar is still there, accessible from the street to the left, but the archways that were uncovered when they rebuilt this wall show how the bazaar used to also extend on the side of our courtyard/parking area. It has clearly shrunk from it's hey-dey. Half the stalls go unused. Bazaars further outside the center are still bustling, but when metros went in more than 5 minutes walk away, and rich people in the center started going to grocery stores, I guess this bazaar just wasn't as attractive anymore.

















Notice how every night, the workers had to clean up so people could still park there!







This tall building towers above the older buildings. I heard on the news that there are something like 800 tall buildings like this currently under construction in this city. Many in our new neighborhood.













I was most impressed by how the scaffolding seems so insubstantial. Although, compared to the 6-20 story scaffolding they build out of 2 x 4s and framing nails this looks pretty good. They just economize on the standing boards--who needs more than the ones you are working on? And everything is pretty much done--even on major construction projects—without any power tools. Mixing enough concrete for a whole wall is an exercise in extreme patience and arm strength. See the wet spot on the ground about 10 feet behind the black car? They make a mound of sand, make a volcano crater in the middle, pour some concrete mix in, add water, and then patiently, patiently mix in from the sides round and round with a shovel without letting the water run out until it's all mixed. Then someone shovels some into a bucket and climbs the sidebars of the scaffolding to hand it to the plasterer/mason above. I was actually pretty impressed with this project however--it got done fairly quickly--a few weeks.



See how nice and smooth they are getting it? In the end they painted the whole thing white with a band of gray at the bottom where it might get dirty.






See the green clothesline? It's new! Someone took the opportunity to ask the guys to replace their tatty clothesline while they were up there. I had wondered how they did that. Mostly I just loved the primary colors in this picture. And the fact they were wearing actually helpful work clothes (though you can see they are both wearing flip-flops). Usually even while doing construction men wear nice looking clothes and shoes (like loafers)--and they manage to keep pretty tidy.

Okay--before I start sounding too much more like a Dick and Jane book (See spot run!), I'm signing off. But wait--there's more! We finally got faster internet.

Teacher Appreciation Day

It's been nearly a month since we've posted--life gets busy! This is a photo from earlier in October: "Teacher Day." I'm still not clear on whether they actually ordered these flowers for me or whether they were extras the Dean received and passed on to me, but in any case I was presented with these flowers as a token of appreciation for being a teacher. This is a hold-over from Soviet period--as is "Women's Day" in March.

It is now over a month since I received these flowers and I am finally starting to learn the University system here. This is a highly verbal culture and little exists on paper--at least not easily accessibly. So, I've had to learn everything about the system as it happens (yes, you must assign 50% of grade to the final exam, oh, by the bye, your students will not come for the next month--they are having their practicum--and did you hear about the opening ceremony for the new regional studies center? You should come. It is tomorrow.) This system of communication works pretty well for the well-connected--which I am not yet, but hope to soon be. Email is a little spotty--cell phone text messages are good for contacting the younger set--and home phone numbers are fair game until at least 11:30 at night for anyone.

I am set to teach a graduate class on American Ethnography (Multi-cultural Studies basically) next semester as well as continuing the Modern American Lit class (on one month break for practicum as of this week!) through June. The private Univ Classes are a bit more predictable--that U was funded and set up by Turkish interests and they are more organized. The students at both schools have been wonderful. They don't all want to be in school, but as it's about the only game in town, most of them are quite respectful of my strange teaching methods--and much more open to the critical thinking work I am asking of them than I might have expected. Essays? Well... that's another challenge. But if you want to eavesdrop on my class google group discussions (mostly just answering my questions about reading so far--but 90% have written something online!):

http://groups.google.az/group/women-and-literature

On to more posts soon...

People and Buildings: Xinaliq

The men above were more than happy to let Marlys photograph them. They even asked if she had a telephoto lens and suggested a different angle. I bet they are among the most photographed men in Azerbaijan (besides the president). Their suggestion for composition is below--I like Marlys' initial take with the layers of terraced rock walls, but theirs showcases the village more. You decide.
Here is the garden of the house we stayed in.


The whitewashed doorway and little window below the white jeep are where the wash house/toilet are.














There used to be a house right there--and indeed houses used to crowd side by side all along this level--but as you can see from the next photo, many houses have fallen into disrepair.


It doesn't take more than a winter or two with houses made of earth and rock. If you don't keep the roofs well plastered and pitched properly, and shovel the snow off regularly, then they begin to leak. With so many families choosing to move into larger towns for the winter these days (the shepherds take their flocks much lower for the winter months anyway) up to half of the homes are no longer permanently occupied and many have just fallen apart.




That's not to say people aren't still building and maintaining homes here. In the following photo you can see a number of well-kept homes, including the one we stayed in at the far center of the photograph--a large stuccoed house with a metal roof and little enclosed front stoop. But it is very expensive to bring in materials, so for everything besides the earth and stone, you need cash--and that's not easy to come by.















Here's a kid who was shy about having his picture taken, but stood very carefully still for Marlys anyway.
And in case you didn't quite catch the T-shirt--plus he's smiling a bit now:


I'm starting to run outta steam here--it's nearly midnight and using multiple photos on this blogger program is a layout nightmare--it's really designed for one or two photos per post. It's nearly impossible to get things placed right. But here are several more photos below of buildings and people. There's a great one of a stack of the dung and straw fuel they use for heating in the winter.


For 40 years they had very cheap electricity and heated their homes that way, but with independence and rising energy costs, they now have gone back to the old methods. Our host said that each house must keep a couple cows just for this purpose--which can be a lot of work, especially for the older folks whose kids have moved out.

You can also see the hay piles for the winter to feed the cows and few sheep and goats not gone to lower pasture.



Kids on the roof in the hay picture just were hanging out, but we also saw the usual football (soccer) play--often kicking the ball from roof to roof--even when there was flat area for easier play below. I personally think the game could be much more fun if played on a terraced field!

In a couple of the next photos notice the water line snaking up the street. It brings water to the town from a source higher up (wise, given the way toilets drain into the mountainside and animals wander about in the streams at town level especially).



It runs continuously via taps into a trough at the center of town where everyone has to go to get water. Well, not everyone. This was clearly a job for women and children--mostly girl children. Strong women.

The young woman in red is carrying a tub of wet laundry.




The water has to run continuously so that it doesn't freeze in the subzero winter months. This is also why no house to house plumbing exists--the pipes would just freeze unless you left the taps open all the time. Of course, everyone in town knows the term"global warming" and adults talk about how when they were kids there was snow by this time of year (October) and snow year round on the nearby peaks—which are, after all, 3710-44466 meters (12,000-14,600 feet) high--the highest mountain in Europe is in the Caucasus. Al Gore's Nobel Prize had just been awarded and folks saw it on the news. (They also were watching the US vote on labeling Armenian genocide--but that's another blog post.) We saw just a dusting of snow on two of the peaks--so little it can't really be made out in the photos we took.


What we don't have photos of--the two weddings we attended (low-budget, night-time, largely outdoors under tarps, dancing bundled against the wind), the inside of the house where we stayed (very comfortable--slept great), the outdoor set up for washing hands and face (very clever low-tech water holder/dispenser contraption), the food we ate (they made us vegetarian food!). You know, the everyday things that one takes for granted. And we were having low battery issues with the camera--we could buy more in the little store, but they only lasted a short time.

Marlys took a hundred more lovely photos (most of our photos are by her). I'll try and get her to post a few of the 4WD trek we did up the rocky river valley, as well as some Fall pics coming back down through Quba. Oh Yeah--and some great pics from the new village museum.



Last words on Xinaliq from me for now--this is a village that's changing quickly. A new road was put in just this last year that more than halved the time it takes to drive there from the nearest large town and made the place accessible in winter. There are now two small shops in town where there were none 5 years ago. A new school has been built that allows children of shepherds to board while their parents are off with the sheep. And because of significant mention in the only good tour guide to Azerbaijan, they now get tourists, including Azeris from Baku, all summer. It's clearly an amazing base for hiking the Caucasus. Finally, with the dedication of the new road and school, the president came for a visit and of course the ubiquitous giant billboard of he and his father (the previous president) has been planted in full view next to the road through town (well the road kind of stops at the town, but it trails off slow). The attempt to make the populace love the son through images of the father is everywhere--I think they must have a plan for a billboard every few minutes, no matter where you go. Somehow I forgot to get a picture of it in Xinaliq.

The Otherworld of Azerbaijan

THE DRIVE: from Quba (pronounced~ goo-buh) (about 2 hours from Baku) to Xinaliq (pronounced "henna-look"--which is actually what it means because the mountains are henna-colored in the sun) a small town in the mountains of Azerbaijan, 25 kilometers from the Russian border, in the Caucasus Mountains.













ABOVE Left: Treehouse perched amongst a tree's autumn leaves. Unlike Baku, Quba was fully being hit with fall. Trees of Quba, few pines and furs, were orange red yellow, and some still green.

ABOVE: Hills of area surrounding Quba.

Our driver was a great tour-ish guide too. He knew all the great tourist photo-op places. As we drove to Xinaliq, he stopped the car a number of places, to show us waterfalls, rivers, and beautiful rolling hills.
Here, he stopped to lead us up some stairs, by the road. Some rocky steps of this hill, and some slices of wood nailed as steps up to this lookout. These steps led to a quite precarious climb, as some of them were broken and unstable. Heres our tour guide in a picture below.

















More beautiful scenery!!!!!!!
















Sorry about the dust on the lens in this pic. of mom, here, folks. Did I say it was windy? Cuz it was windy, not so much down in Quba, but very windy in Xinaliq. I think some dust got blown onto the camera lens, so the pictures a little funky monkey. Also below, you'll catch a glimpse of "yo", this photo taken by "mi madre". Hey, I'm learning a bit of Spanish, anyway. Again, pic is a little blurry.























Posing at a picnic party palace. Nice alliteration, eh?


















OH NOOOO! She's gunna fall over the edgeeee!!! (While I sit here and watch...)



















CANYONSS!!! Getting close to Xiniliq....












(Ok--so Marlys' first picture of the village was the next one, but I felt the narrative went better if you could see the town first. But it is more exciting in her version, I guess.--Alison)


OUR TIME IN XINILIQ: They cook and kill their own meat in this small village town built on a hill....look what we almost tripped over! :0


















Grazing in the hills of Xiniliq...



















Okay, here's mi madre now, she's gunna share a few memories with y'all.


Hi, Alison here now.
Here's Zaur, our guide, with his 15 cows in the background. He's a super skinny guy--but the wind is blowing up his clothes like balloons! You can't really see, but Zaur climbed with us in casual dress loafers. It was amazing--we were often going straight up and transversing shale hillsides. We hiked with him for several hours, past sacred waterfalls (wish I'd thought to take a picture of the discarded and rusty crutch that was left near the falls--a clear indication of its healing powers). Folks tie prayer flags on a bit of fencing near the entrance to the caves/falls, but as with any location in the country that sees many number of visitors, there was also trash...Not much trash up higher though, where mainly shepherds are the only human inhabitants.














Here's Marlys and Zaur with Russia off somewhere in the distance there. Just outside of the village we stayed in was a station/boarding house for border soldiers--I wasn't sure if it was for the Russian soldiers or the Azeri soldiers though.







Marlys and Zaur.















More scenery. The wind was whipping up the dust and the clouds were moving through at the same time. Hazy effects.







Below is Xinaliq from above on our hike. As you can see, it's quite defensively built on a spur of the mountainside. Since the inhabitants of this village speak a language no one else speaks (and which has not been definitively connected to any others), one local man speculates that maybe communication with nearby villages was only through hostilities. The other two small nearby villages (both lower altitude) speak a language no one else speaks also. These are still living languages, but because the villages have been subject to the familiar phenomenon of migration to larger towns for jobs, and the permanent resident population has been halved in the last quarter century, I do wonder how long the language will remain strong and dynamic. Children are beginning to be brought up elsewhere. The man who arranged our visit said his second son, who has lived for three years in larger Quba and plays with Azeri speaking kids, speaks the Xinaliq language with a strange accent.
Marlys chose all these pics and I have some others I want to talk about so I'll close out this post and start another. We got some really spectacular photos I want to share. More next post...Alison