perils of driving

Today was a somber day at the azerbaijan mortgage fund, and at the entire national bank as a fund staff member was seriously injured in a car accident and his passenger, a 21 yo employee of the national bank was killed. During lunch, a bunch of us went to visit him at Baku medical center's intensive care unit. The hospital looked like an abandoned warehouse: gutters hanging, rusty doors, broken windows. inside, it was less grungy but dark with walls that appeared stained. I kept thinking about the difference between this hospital and the one in which my dad recently had his bypass surgery. and this was a major hospital in the capital city - imagine what some of the hospitals in the regions must look like? one of the fund guys had previously told me that medical school is fraught with grades for money bribery. The intensive care unit was housed with the emergency room. Visitors had to get past a woman sitting on the other side of a comically small square opening to see patients. Not dissuaded by rules forbidding non-family members from visiting, one of my quick thinking colleagues handed the lady a bundle of bills and allowed himself in. he was followed by a lady selling deep fried pirojkis out of a plastic bag, and then several of my co-workers. I didn't feel the need to go in and see him. first because I don't do well w/ seriously injured people and second it seemed ridiculous to bother a man who had just suffered 8 broken ribs and was barely able to talk. driving is dangerous in baku. over the weekend, i had talked to a consultant whose client's son had just been killed in a car accident.

fis mak mmmmmm ........ i'm lovnit it

(top) ronald is one of the friendliest guys in baku

(below) a few months back we met his buddhist cousin in bangkok, who also approves the fish mak

ok, it's an old story: that which repels you normally comforts you in unfamiliar surrounds. guilt, mild self-loathing, quisiness (sp?) of the gut - real or imagined - a visit to mcdonalds in america elicits a distinct set of negative feelings for me. it's precisely the predictability of that response that regularly draws me to mcdonalds in baku -- kind of like: 'i know this makes me feel bad but at least it's a familiar bad'. or maybe it's just that the amalgam of fish parts fried into a crispy square smothered with sweet sweet tartar sauce and then placed in between a bun so soft and processed it disappears on contact with my mouth like some kind of cotton candy is just so darn good!? anyway, whatever the reason i found myself at the fountain square mcdonald's last friday . . . again. the interesting thing about mcdonalds in baku is that some americans, myself included, see it almost as an outpost of america, an annex to the embassy if you will. we enter and feel more confident about our place in the world. suddenly we're the ones promulgating social norms, inside the golden arches anyway. here's an example from my visit friday: I arbitrarily picked what looked to be the end of a line -- as background, lines to just about anything typically resemble mob scenes in AZ; women are the worst cutters, but they aren't really seen as engaging in bad behavior, it's just considered gentlemanly to let women cut in front of you. the cashier was very slow and i was getting upset that my plans to leisurely lunch on fish mak would end up being a frenzied chow down (in order to make it back to the office by 2 -- everyone eats lunch from 1-2 at the national bank). as i waited, a woman elbowed me aside and plopped herself in front of the backpack wearing dude in front of me. i uttered something in complaint, he turned around and said 'that's so Azeri, the women are shameless about cutting'. we did nothing about the woman but commenced a bitch session about how wrong it was -- we were loud, indignant and i have to say it felt good. plenty of women have cut in front of me elsewhere and typically i don't complain but inside mcdonalds it felt different. i contemplated this as another woman showed up and immediatley moved to the front of the line, next to the backpack american who by this time was ordering. i threw my newspaper on the counter where she placed her handbag -- she seemed startled and retreated slightly as i stared at her: 'where do you think you are lady, azerbaijan?'

Şirvanşahsirayi

Still camera-less, so here are some photos of Shirvan Shah's Palace taken earlier this summer. Mostly constructed during the beginning of the Shirvan Khanate in the 15th century, the Palace is set off near the rear wall of Baku's Old City. It's strategic location atop a ridge close to the center of the crescent that is Baku Bay afforded the Shirvan rulers unobstructed views of in and out ship traffic. The Palace is actually several buildings. Besides the main residence for the ruling family, what remains today include: the Divanxana (a pavilion for legal proceedings), a mosque, a mausoleum housing the body of a famous astronomer (walking down the steep stairs into utter darkness was creepy but not as bad as thinking about what his shriveled body must look like now . . . probably not that different from the dust that blows around Baku on most days), a mausoleum for royal burial vaults, and a hamam or bath (remnants of ceramic piping used to distribute hot water were still evident). (Underneath the complex were apparently several wells that provided fresh water.) If the Old City with its maze of carless, claustorphobic alleys, perpetually in shade and rarely marked with signage, stands apart from the the rest of Baku, the Shirvan Shah's Palace offers passage to another time. The courtyard, shaded by fruit trees and outfitted with benches, was for me perhaps the most tranquil spot in the entire city.

Pictures from top left going clockwise:
1) Bullet marks from the execution of Azerbaijanis during the Bolshevik rise to power (our tour guide blamed Armenian sympathizers for the killings -- the Qarabagh situation is never far from any facet of modern Azerbaijani life). 2) Where better to carve your thoughts for posterity than on a 500+ year-old UNESCO World Heritage site? 3) Stone carvings recovered from the remains of an old castle on an island (last used as a prison) that was discovered when the Caspian retreated in the mid-20th century (why are the carvings are stored and displayed at the Palace?) 4) Entrance to the palace residence. 5) Hamam (it was excavated not too long ago, notice the modern buildings constructed literally on top of the complex).

non-baku ramblings

I woke up this morning in Baku recalling an outing that Grace and I had in Glenview, Illinois (I guess one never knows what weird mental excursions will result from the subconscious mining of one’s memory, especially when you miss someone). Anyway, the recent trip to Chicago coincided with our one-year anniversary. Sleep deprived and emotionally ragged, I think the date snuck up on both of us. Visions of a Baku celebration – e.g. the famous mugham singer Alim Qazimov inviting us over for mutton shashlik barbecue with plov and homemade kimchee and then feteing us with a private performance -- had to give way to something northwest Chicagoland-inspired. Even though I grew up in and around Chicago and I regularly visit my family there, my knowledge of the local restaurant scene was limited to Kimchee Cabana and a few other restaurants from my childhood that still existed. Grace was craving good sushi and this led us to a new Japanese restaurant in Glenview called RA. Their corporate website assured us that, “there’s never a dull moment in the RA. The music is pumping, the mood is upbeat and the atmosphere is as STMULATING as a big bite of wasabi . . . “ “Why not?” we thought, who couldn’t use some “upbeat” moodiness and stimulating wasabi? Anyway the sushi and rolls, while hardly noteworthy were enough to get us over our sushi fix. What was more interesting was the actual location of RA. The restaurant is part of a huge development in the middle of Glenview, the former site of a major naval airstation. Growing up in the area, I would sometimes see large evergreen-colored cargo planes flying over our backyard on their way to the base. My 6^th grade social studies teacher also explained that we should take the annual air raid drills seriously since our school’s proximity to the airstation made it a priority target for Soviet nukes – the good ol’ Reagan days. Anyway, the base was closed in the early 1990’s and within a few years was transformed by the Village of Glenview into a sort of Pleasantville. I didn’t know anything about this until Grace and I drove up and saw all the new urbanism-inspired mixed-use development: closely packed townhouses with front porches but no driveways, wide sidewalks, street level retail/apartments above, walking distance shopping, reclaimed prairie. And while it still retained a lot of the typical suburban feel: a façade of character created from nothing and chain stores, it was unlike anything else I had seen in the Chicago suburbs or for that matter any suburb. A huge digression from life in Baku but interesting (at least to me). Anyway, here’s a NY Times article about the development.

http://query.nytimes.com/gst/fullpage.html?res=9B0DE0DB1638F931A25752C1A9659C8B63&sec=&pagewanted=print

A master plan for the development and history of the site is available on its website:

http://www.glenview.il.us/glen/

random baku scene

Grace has the camera in NYC so I'm recycling some older photographs. And yes, the America-loving waiters would have been more appropriate 2 weeks ago but oh well. They work at the restaurant atop the Apsheron Hotel, an immense Soviet-era brick of a building, that sits along the Caspian coast (a block from our apt) and offers a panoramic view of the city from its outdoor space. When I asked the waiters if they would be photographed, they immediately consented and one rushed to grab the US and Azerbaijan flags. The one on the far right had a serious crush on our friend Linda and by the time we ordered coffees, had declared his love for her in English, Azerbaijani and Russian.

Update & random book recommendation

Just returned from an unexpected trip to the U.S. (hence the recent blog inactivity). Grace is still in NYC visiting our new niece Hyunoo and Hyunoo's mom, dad, sister and grandmother (i.e. Grace's mom).

The reason for the sudden trip . . . my dad had emergency bypass surgery. This after his cardiologist was startled to find three of the arteries leading to his heart severely blocked. Grace and I didn't have much time to make arrangements: we learned he would need surgery on Saturday morning, purchased tickets that afternoon and were on our way to the Baku airport 12 hours later. As someone who typically suffers from indecisiveness, it was exhilirating to decide quickly and without remorse. I'm relieved to report that after some harrowing complications and nearly a week in intensive care, my dad is steadily recovering and expected to be discharged some time this week.

Anyway, back in Baku now. Just completed my first day back at AMF (aka my project). The transition wasn’t so bad. On an aside, the many hours spent at the hospital afforded me time to finish an interesting book: ‘No god but God’ by Reza Aslan

http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1400062136/104-8984062-3941511?v=glance&n=283155

I recommend it to anyone who like me knows little about Islam but would like to get beyond the usual blatherings of esteemed theologians like William Kristol, Donald Rumsfeld or your local Congressional Representative. Primarily a historical narrative, Aslan traces Islam's development from its pre-Muhammad roots in the Arabian Peninsula to the challenges confronting it today. Because it's a history book, it's sometimes dry and not particularly engaging although I found the sections on Medina (where the Prophet established his community of followers) and Sufism quite interesting. Where the book really won me over though was in the last chapter when he uses history of the personal sort (the mad dash through Tehran airport with his little sister in tow is extremely vivid) to introduce the reader to his hopes for the religion's future. Aslan's thesis, that much of instability and conflict currently unfolding in many of the world’s predominantly Islamic countries is really a manifestation of the “reformation” taking place in Islam really was fascinating and new (at least to a novice like me). OK sorry about that Religions 101 lecture. I just had it on my mind because over lunch today, a colleague at AMF, who has vowed to convert me (mostly in jest . . . I think), mentioned that for him Islam means love, individual choice and rational thought. What H**** has to say about his faith and practice of Islam is so different than what I can piece together about Islam from watching TV news or reading the papers.

Our Trip to Şəki (Sheki)

After a 9 hour overnight train ride from Baku to Sheki, we were met by Gabi (Rakman's family driver). Jim works with Rakman who's one of the deputies at the Azerbaijani Mortage Fund. He is from Sheki and with a quick phone call was able to get us a suite at the famous Karavansaray Hotel after we were already told it was booked for a tour group. Connections connections....anyway, Gabi sped us through the town and made sure that we were taken care of before he left us. This the dramatic entrance to the hotel. The Karavansaray (former lodging for camel travellers along the silk route) was beautifully restored and was all that it was built up to be...


The courtyard to the Karvansaray. We arrived at 7 or so in the morning and crashed out when we got to our rooms. A few hours later, we were awaken by lovely orchestra music and Italian singing (O Solo Mio...) in the courtyard. After grabbing some lunch in a nearby restaurant where we tried the local specialties, piti (chickpea, lamb, fat chunk stew) and halva (like baklava) we checked out Sheki's old walled city.



Within the walled city were museum for applied crafts, a target shooting stand, and a shebeke workshop. Shebeke is style of stained glass windows done by craftspeople in Sheki. They have made windows for the US Embassy and the restored Xan Saray (pictured above). The Xan Saray (Khan Palace) was closed for renovations from 2002 and just reopended in 2004. It was pretty cozy as far as palaces go. Unfortunately Jim and I had to use an Azerbaijani tour guide (the English speaking one was out) and only caught words here and there like "qonaqliq" (party) aha so this is where the parties were held... so that above is room where qonaqliqs were held...


There were two huge trees in front of the Xan Saray. We were told that they were over 470 years old! Jim and I both agreed that there is almost nothing better than a great big old old tree. Just looking at it and sitting under its canopy was so reassuring and calming, just makes you feel like everything's gonna be alright.



We bought some papaqs from this man. Jim asked him to pose with the hat and you can see how pleased he is to oblige. After buying 2 hats from him, he managed to persuade us to buy a silk scarf from his friend in the next store over. He told us that if we bought the scarf he'd buy us pive (beer). Silk is another industry in Sheki. Needlesstosay, the next thing we know, we're sitting in a pivexana (is that a real Azerbaijani word - beer house?). The novelty though of drinking a beer with the foreigners seemed to fade once the beers landed in front of us and thankfully we had nohut (chickpeas) to munch on while we tried to chat in our meager Azerbaijani. After a few minutes, we learned that he and his friend had been drinking pive since around 9 am (we met them at 4 or 5 pm). FYI chickpeas with a side of dipping salt is real yummy and addictive.


This is the back garden restaurant at the Karavasaray where we ate most of our meals. It was quite peaceful and enjoyable to be surrounded by flowers, moutains, and trees. Jim is strolling through garden after eating a whole lot of meat... I think that night we were asked if we wanted an assortment... "Yaxsı" brought us a plate of mysterious pieces of meat. I could only eat the chunks of familiar pieces which were quite tender... I have become much more able to consume and even enjoy meat. Jim was a little more adventerous and tried what he thought was brain - small, yellow, and wavy - and liver a rich morsel of something deep red brown.



Another day we hired a driver, Ilhan, to take us to some local sites. We first went to Mt. Marxal home of the fresh bulag su (spring water) and resort. It was great, really green and lush there. There was a sad little pond that was the size of a swimming pool where families paddle boated around. We hiked up some with Ilhan (who did pretty well in his pointy dress shoes) and took this panorama view.




Then we went to the town across the bridge Kiş where went to a restored Albanian Church. From there we wanted to go to the remains of a hidden castle. Upon Ilhan's suggestion, we did a driver/car switch. We hopped into a red Niva and quickly understand why the Lada would not have made it. The "roads" were quite rough, especially crossing the rocky river pass to the trail head up to see the remains of a castle called "Gelersen Görasen" which translates to "Come and See." It was great to hike and the view once up there was incredible. Actually the panorama photo above is from the castle not Marxal. This is us at the top of the castle.


Out last night inside our room... Jim got fancy and was able to capture the twilight... the window seat was one of my favorites. The next day we left with a hired car and driver so that we could see more of Azerbaijan's country and get home faster. Faster indeed... 9 hour train v. 4 hour drive (guide books say the drive should take about 6.5 hours). The driver (unfortunately neither Jim nor I can remember his name nor many others...) though was really nice and speedy. Azerbaijan is really beautiful. We passed through spectacular mountain vistas, lush fertile land, small cozy towns, and happy cows and sheep along the way. We hope to travel to other parts of the country. The trip to Sheki was such a welcome respite from the dusty tower-filled city of Baku. Baku is the Las Vegas of the country. It was a little hard to transition back to Baku.

Dun da da da.....

There she is... our new niece - Mabel Hyunoo Namboos- with her big sister Stella. She came into the world on June 14, 2006 at 1:33 p.m. est at a whopping 7lbs. 14 oz. It sounds like this birth went smoothly and Tessie, Jim, Stella, and Mabel are all doing well, especially with the help of Lori, Stella's Gomo (Jim's sister), who came to NYC to help out from Michigan. This is the part where it is hard to be on the other side of the world... photos are just not enough. We hope to meet Mabel Hyunoo soon.

world cup commentary

I've been watching more soccer than i'v ever watched in my life. It may reflect my life here and the absence of things to do or maybe it's that the matches are mostly televised in prime time. The korean satellite channels have really pushed me to the brink with their overzealous cverage of all things world cup. We can't watch a drama or docu-show or the news without some mistimed reference to the red devils or 'highting'. Even as a korean and avid fan, I feel that the whole population (korea's not azerbaijan's) has swallowed some strange pill that makes all else of little or no consequence -- korea has worked itself into a frenzy where to be korean only means to be a supporter of the national football team. This is the problem of a feel good experience crossing into annoying arrogance. Too much, I almost find myself wishing for good spanking by the french tomorrow, if only to tone all this hype down. I also feel like a grouchy 35 yo.

Cim və Hyunoo Adgünü tabrik ədirəm!

My sister Tessie is scheduled to deliver her second daughter today June 14, 2006! Because it's a c-section they can schedule the delivery at 11 am (New York time) like it's a dentist appointment and plan to be done within the hour... Then big sister Stella can come meet her new baby sister, Hyunoo (her middle and Korean name, first name to be decide upon meeting). I wish I could be there with you Namboos family - Tessie, Jim, and Stella- you are in our thoughts today.



So Hyunoo and Jim will share their birthday! Happy birthday to you both!

Jim is turning the big 35, joining me in the prime of our middle adulthood... wahoo! We are heading out on an overnight train to Sheki, a northern region and are excited to see more of the country. Pictured hard at work shining his shoes... Jim has acclimated to the Azerbaijani norms of being judged by the sheen of his shoes. And he is making headway with the guys at the Azerbaijani Mortgage Fund so it must be doing something...

Chirax Castle

Yesterday, I went on a staff retreat to Chirag Castle, about 2 hours north of Baku. Yes, staff retreat... I am now gainfully employed teaching English, the very thing I thought I didn't want to do. With the ngo's not being so responsive and/or engaging to my free labor, sudden increase of free time (intensive language training finished), looking for an opportunity to meet more Azerbaijanis, I responded to an ad in the English speaking paper. The students are mostly oil workers (whose foreign companies are paying for their English language training). Nice guys but unfortunately no women. I am learning about random parts of the oil industry - mud logging, sample catching, 28 days on 28 days off the platform, up/down stream, etc -which has been interesting.

Anyway, back to the trip... it was great to get out of Baku and see some green! We took 3 SUV's out there and passed some surreal oil fields. We had a picnic under some shady trees on top of a mountain and then hiked up to the remnants of the Chirax Castle (1200 meters). Chirax means 'lamp' and the castle was built in the 5th century by Persians. While in desperate need of repair, there seems to be little interest from the government, so it seems that this already crumbling historic landmark will someday soon be nothing but crumbs. Someone in our group remarked that the stone footbridge which we found collapsed in the middle was usable just a week ago.

How long does it take to schedule a mtg?

Apparently 2 wks is not enough time at the AZ Mortgage Fund. In an attempt to kick start the strategic planning process (one of my initial work plan items), I've very unsuccessfully tried to organize a meeting of 5 people (the director, his two deputies and someone from the strategic planning unit). Perhaps I could be more aggressive (more on that later) but I think not for lack of trying has this meeting failed to happen. I have gotten the various persons to agree to various times, before lunch, after lunch, in the morning, late in the afternoon. I've tried starting with the director, with one or more of the deputies, with the HR Manager who also strangely is the scheduler and serves tea . Meeting frustrations aside, this experience is shaping up to be very interesting (professionally at least). Impressions seem very important here, I might even say more so than substance or knowledge (maybe someone reading this would disagree if so I'd be interested in hearing your take on the whole first impression thing in AZ). To state something with bluster, or better yet calm knowing arrogance commands more respect than to ask questions that may lead to some insight. Either way, the folks at the Fund, especially the director doesn't seem to have much respect for my abilities or experience. He refers to me as an intern, which in reality is not terribly far off. Grace and others have pointed out that I need to present myself with more confidence (or even aggressiveness). I concur. I should state things that I know or have strong opinions about in a direct and assertive way. Is that a consulting thing? I have a difficult time telling the Fund leadership what to do and how to do it (even if they were to listen) since the task of establishing a mortgage market seems so daunting -- where do you start? what should be a priority? I just don't know most of this stuff. I suppose at the end of 12 months, if nothing else, I'll have learned to be a better consultant. Meanwhile, my two wk anniversary at the fund (located atop the central bank's sleek building - see picture) has come and gone with still no phone, no desk and no computer. To put that in context, it seems that many of the Fund staff are sharing computers; I see much desk swapping depending on who needs to use the computer or needs access to the internet (only 3 computers come with this luxury). I'll let you all know when the meeting happens.

on a good note, i played soccer for the first time in Baku this morning. We played on a worn down, sandy astro turf field -- the surface was perfect for my knee, soft and so broken down that it lost the usual astro turf stickiness. Anyway, my knee feels fine and i'll be back next wk if the guys will have me since i injured someone today and annoyed another guy with my supopsed 'aggressive' play. maybe i need to transfer my soccer tactics to the Fund.

Jim finally started work

Last week was my first official week at the Azerbaijan Mortgage Fund, the very reason why Grace and I moved from Brooklyn to Baku. I have to admit it was a less than glorious entrance. No introductions to other staff, just a conspicuous seat in the National Bank's (that's where the Fund is housed since it just started operations in 2006) library, no phone, no computer. I sit in a room that resembles highschool study hall -- there's even a library monitor whose job seems to be to organize the journals and reports that are housed there. The two deputy directors for the Fund also seat in this room (albeit w/ phones and computers). I need to pass through a large room where nearly all other Fund staff is situated in order to get to the library. This room I've learned is the dining hall for the National Bank of Azerbaijan's President and Board of Directors hence all staff must leave the room by 1:00 when he has his lunch there. I have communicated my desire to seat in the large room with the others (along w/ my desire to have a computer, telephone, security card) . . .we'll see. The project before me is totally fascinating though -- one that I couldn't have imagined working on even a year ago.

Anyway here are some more photos of YoYo Ma and his Silk Road Ensemble and Alim Qasimov, his daughter Ferqana and their group (all members of the ensemble). We, thanks to Sevda muellim's dogged persistence, were able to view and listen in on a captivating rehearsal session before the big Silk Road concert. It was amazing to watch and listen as these musicians figured out how to play together. It turns out that several members of the Silk Road Ensemble live in Brooklyn not too far from where Grace and I lived. The pipa was a revelation, such a full and rich sound from such a simple instrument (unfortunately no good photos). YoYo Ma was great with the children, Grace's assessment that he was like a big child himself was right on the mark. His intensity on the cello delighted the children. The music sprung naturally and easily from these musicians who learned to play their various instruments in different traditions. The silk road concepts of dynamic multiculturalism, idea exchange, hybrid creation was compellingly apparent. Best of all it was great to see that so much of the tour was about giving access to Azerbaijani children and the public at large -- no clear channel ticketron with these concerts. Check out the 'Postcards from Baku 2006' section on http://www.silkroadproject.org/

Qreys məşhur dir

I guess being a curiosity (english speaking Korean American) can naturally lead to these situations but Grace has found herself in the spotlight quite a few times. Here's a photo of Grace addressing a large room full of high achieving english language majors at Tefukkur Universitet (notice the gaze of Pres Alieyev on Grace). She was invited to get up and 'just say something' at a conference sponsored by the english language and grammar department at the university; we attended because our Azerbaijani teacher invited us -- she is a professor in the department. The University Dean doesn't seem to moved by Grace's talk however (he's the gentleman in the foreground).

Yo Yo Ma and the Silk Road Project

Yesterday, we got to see YoYo Ma's Silk Road Project play with Alim Qasimov and other mugam musicians. It was a free concert at the Baku Music Academy. When we (Sevda, Linda, Jim and I) came in the auditorium was packed with Azerbaijani students and teachers and they were in the middle of a Q&A session. Jim and I walked up towards the front. Jim gave YoYo the "Asian brother" nod, and YoYo looked at us and smiled back.

Meeting Alim Qasimov

Sevda was hilarious, "Qreys gel! Come! Bring the nağara, meet Alim, you must. You didn't meet Yo Yo but you can at least meet Alim." And so she pushes her way in and says a big shpeel about me playing the nağara and the korean drum. Alim seems not so interested and perhaps more put off by Sevda's assertiveness as she seems nonplussed by the fact that he is considered to be one of her country's treasures. She claims that Alim offered his nağara player's teaching talents to me and all the way out insists on looking for the nağara player. The greatest thing though as I was standing there nagara in hand, next to the world famous Alim Qasimov, students from the Baku Music Academy approach me with pen and paper asking for my autograph. I laugh and try to tell them in Azerbaijani that I am not a musician. You can see Linda smiling in amusement on the other side of Alim. The students look at me puzzled, hurt, and dejected.

My Moment of Fame

Oh alright... it seemed easier than looking at their dejection. I'm sure that that piece of paper will be worth thousands on ebay. Linda said something like, "To those students it's all the same -Yo yo Ma, Alim Qasimov, Grace Nam."

Day trip to Gobustan and the Mud Volcanoes

Gobustan was nice...a tourist spot. There were a lot of youth and school groups there although the children seemed to be more intrigued with us - a eclectic group of pilipino, korean, african, indian, austrian, egyptian, european faces. And while we questioned the authenticity of some of the petrogyphs, just hiking around the rocks and the geckos was worth the trip.

View from the mud volcanoes

It was a welcome relief from honking congested traffic and dusty construction sites to see the simple scene of three boys shepherding their flock of goats and sheep.

Farting Mud

After much talk in Brooklyn, we finally made it out to see the farting mud volcanoes! This was our first venture out of Baku and it was a much needed respite from the city. With folks from DC, NYC, Kazakstan, Krygystan, we hired a van and a driver to take us to mud volcanoes and Gobustan to see petrogyphs. The mud volcanoes were my favorite. There was not a building nor car in sight and all we could hear was the endearing gurgles of the mud bubbles...it felt serene out there. We left with souvenirs of mud encased shoes, fingers, pants...

Taeguki Troubles

My Korean pride caused a minor incident with the Azerbaijani officials. The S. Korean President Roh was in town on May 10-12 meeting with Aliyev and as a welcoming gesture the streets of Baku were lined with Korean and Azerbaijani flags. Jim and I tried hard to offer our volunteer services to a Uzbeki Korean women Yulia who was organizing activities surrounding Roh's visit and even were so bold as to call a local Chae Eun Sook to invite ourselves to the Korean residents luncheon. With the "We don't need help. We are already prepared for the President as he is coming tomorrow." Good poitn. We were a little disappointed as we came to terms with the fact that perhaps we were not high on Roh's priorities here in Baku. So I had to at least mark the historic occasion and personal good vibes with a few photos of the waving Taeguki in Baku. On my way to the children's palace (which is next to the president's office), I started to take photos. The guards looked at me and gestured to stop and then seemed to wave me off like it was okay. Doot doot doot doot doot on my way to class, I snap more photos and once I get to the palace I see a military guard there (who is normally not there). After a few minutes of arriving, Azad (my nagara teacher) asks me if I was taking photos and then tells me that the guard wants to talk to me. A little nervous but kind of thinking it's a joke, I talk to the guard in my basic Azerbaijani and show him my photos. After repeated explanations with the assorted men hanging around the palace and the guard talking into his walkie talkie, I am told to wait until the President's official come to talk to me. Azad seems too nervous and tells me he's going inside but I should wait there with guard. While waiting the guard looks at my photos and tells me to delete one. He then gets the one guy lingering around who speaks some English to tell me not to tell anyone I was asked to delete the photo. Uh huh okay. 30 minutes later, a very serious looking official drives up with a plain clothed man. I am asked basic questions, who I am, why am I here, where do I live, why am I at the children's palace. The official talks to Azad and another palace worker. Azad nods yes yes and anxiously adds that I also play the Korean drums and am a good student. The official does not look impressed. Walkie talkie walkie talkie. He hands me back my ID offers what I take to be an apology and then poof it's over-45 minutes later. You'd think that maybe someone would have told us... DO NOT TAKE PICTURES AROUND THE PRESIDENT'S OFFICE. Sevda's explanation was terrorist prevention. And then to top it off, on my way home, I take this shot of the taeguki which is much better.

Gül Bayramı

Gül Bayramı (flower holiday) was on May 10 which was also Əliyəv's birthday (which one though I can't seem to remember). The boulevard was filled with flower sculptures, portraits (see İlham Əliyəv), and crafts. Children's work was exhibited through their schools and many children performed. It got too crowded though and it was a welcome relief to find an empty table at a çayxana for some tea and company with Sevda, her daughter, and her sister in law.