Sun in the sky...

They say the first year of a peace corps volunteer is pretty miserable with bright spots sprinkled in from time to time. I agree.

My last posting I left off with getting some advice from the 'old beau' encouraging me to rethink and readjust my attitude. He felt I was far too negative and using way too much energy to stay in a dank dark place rather than making a concerted effort to be happy--to be grateful--to be my normal sunshine/smiley bright self. The latter comes naturally when I'm in a place of familiarity, comfort, and ease.

I took a break from writing because I was in a bad spot and couldn't tell whether I was coming or going. I plastered a smile on my face and kept  my silent cries between the hours of 3 am and 5 am since I had nothing else better to do with my insomnia. Yes, you will get insomnia in the Peace Corps. They don't tell you that one either.

May came around and I headed out to meet my family in London, U.K. 

It was my first time being in London. If you've been and you loved it-here here! I did too. I stayed for an entire week, eating, getting slim, feeling myself all over again

 

 

 

 It was so great to see my family whom can't really be replaced-no matter how hard you try. I won't even go there and say I have space for a second family because that spot is taken too.

Michelle, Mom, Maria, Me

Mom e Dad

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Thames

 My mom and Dad have been married all my life.

Camden Town Shopping

London was everything I had missed. Diversity, respect, kindness, orderly chaos, beat & momentum and a whirlwind of hair products for curly girls.  I didn't even think much about Azerbaijan. I take that back-when my family headed towards Camden Town to eat in the international food market (to which I finally had Brasilian churros, Ethiopian grub and some Indian) there were a fewTurkish stands hocking their 'doner' to which I turned my nose up at. I told myself..I SURELY DID NOT COME TO LONDON TO EAT ANY CUCUMBER MAYO NADA!  And the second encounter was meeting a young man from Russia who asked me what happened to my hand to which I had to explain to him that I burned it with boiling water. As we continued conversing, it finally came out that I was a Peace Corps Volunteer in Azerbaijan living outside of Baku. Being familiar with it, he remarked to me " I bet it's not easy for you to be there." I responded delicately with a big fat lie: " no no, it's okay. I'm good." I left it at that, putting my life as a volunteer in a small pocket of my mind because talking about my experiences thus far would only spoil the mood.

Oh but we ate, we drank, we went to the theatre, we walked around and shopped, we got our make up done, slept in beds fit for kings. I watched TV. I watched  sophisticated people with their high court accents carry around briefcases heading somewhere important. I saw a life that I potentially gave up in exchange to be somewhere in a dusty part of town getting eyeballed and gobsmacked with "hallo/hallo/hallo africa!"

I mean damnit--at least have the courtesy to ask me my name.

Mi Sisters and a PRIMARK Bag.

And then it was over and time to go our separate ways. I came back to Azerbaijan feeling refreshed and full of I CAN'S and I WILLS.

A full day after returning, I headed to the post office wearing a smile and throwing out random Salams to little old women when a young kid decided he wanted to alert his friend of my 'coming' by calling me nigger and throwing his head in my direction. That's when I lost it.


3 am I was writing an early termination letter to my country director. I knew nothing would happen in the wee hours of the morning and I was crying profusely. So I decided to skype with another pcv who I highly revere. I told her how I felt and how tired I was of all the comments, the laughing, the pointing, the times when I'm being taken advantage of, how uncomfortable I felt and how I wanted to quit. I was tired of seeing stray cats on their last leg and cows eating trash. I was tired of feeling unwanted and unwelcome.  I was tired, tired, tired! She said: You know, I would hate to see you leave but you don't have to stay. You can go home anytime.

You can go home anytime.

I meditated on it.

Then I got sexually assualted and had to send some guy to jail.

You can go home anytime.

I stayed in a hotel for a week and the security officer escorted me back to my site. He walked around with me and introduced himself to some community members asking them in good faith to look out for me. Because if there is one thing this culture respects that thing is men. And that's what I needed. I needed a man. Not just any man but a man who is a local and can power broker better relationships for me. Don't you know, dear readers, that this small act of visitation put things right with the universe. Oh my how people have changed!

All of a sudden it became 'netersen' (what's up!') this and nejesen (how are you?) that with salaam salaam filled in between. I had quelled my social anxiety. That's something else you get in the Peace Corps: social anxiety.

June came and I made a friend. A real friend. Not a WHAT CAN YOU DO FOR ME? friend, but a DO YOU THINK THIS GUY WILL CALL ME IN THE MORNING? friend.

I was holding conversation clubs for women in my community and made more friends.

ahh! FRIENDS. They can turn your world right side up can't they!?! 

Peace Corps had a counterpart conference for us as volunteers and the main person we work with in our community. This person is called a counterpart, the liason between us as foreigners and the culture we are implanted in. And even my counterpart was starting to look more like a friend, when initially she wasn't. 

update: my counterpart is not my friend. I misjudged.

 June was the month of HAPPIES and I filled my diary pages with Today was excellent....Oh my what a wonderful day I had...I can't believe I'm saying this but I feel great because...

I traveled to visit other volunteers in their region and I was so comfortable and still glowing, I wasn't even phased anymore when I was being gawked at or questioned about my ethnicity. I just moved right along with life, happy as a bee, returning to my original self.

Then July came and acclimation was second nature. I was so down with the people that I started holding Sex & The City conversation club. Just 3 girls talking about love, relationships and adding scumbag to their vocabulary.

I started to get closer to one of the teachers in my conversation club who is the same age as me and kinda shy like me. We give each other quizzical looks when we are talking about something important (like perfume) because I don't know enough Azerbaijani and she doesn't know enough English. So our faces usually fluctuate from frowned brow of confusion to bright eyes of eureka.

Towards the end of July things started to change.

Ramazan (Ramadan) is upon us and it's hotter than hell. Conversation club is on hiatus.

I recently experienced public vomiting from God knows what.

One of the girls that I formed a friendship with moved.

My days are sewn together and one doesn't seem much different than the other. It's groundhog over here and I try to break it up with Bob Marley and youtube novelas. I began the ritual of waking up at 6am once a week to meditate on being thankful, gracious, and happy, for any little thing at this point.

 I can't go back down. I can't allow myself to feel those feelings again. I don't want to hear those words You can go home anytime.  I don't want to hear it. I don't want to hear it. I don't want to hear it. I don't want to hear it.

That's another thing you get in the Peace Corps: crazy. They don't tell you about that either.

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