No.Wemustfightfor.Aperfect.Order.

We have entered the holiday season here in Azerbaijan. Walking down the streets of Salyan, the signs of the season are everywhere. Families are putting together Xonça (a platter containing sweets and flora and an absolute “must” for the season), houses are being cleared in the pre-holiday cleaning, and the smell of cooking baklava hang heavily in the air. For Azerbaijani culture, Novrus signals the coming of spring, a new year, and new opportunities. Derived from the Persian-born Zoroastrian tradition, the Novrus holiday commemorates nature via the elements of air, earth, fire and water. Four weeks before the actual festival (March 21-22), families will cook specific foods and begin preparing. Every Tuesday for the past month has included a “bayramınız mübarək” (happy holiday!) from my friends and coworkers as each passing Tuesday signals one less week to the festivities. This week, however, the wait is over. Businesses are closing, family members in “the Baku” return home to jump over the traditional bonfire and share gifts. It has been my experience that holidays tend to bring out the best and worst in people the world over. Whether Azerbaijan or India, Baku or St. Paul, it seems that anticipation of large family gatherings and the complimentary amount of food/decoration preparation required represents an annual test of character as daunting as it is exciting. The fruits are apparent and generally quite tasty. Here, it seems important to inform you that over the course of this Novrus season, I have fallen in love. It has been interesting and has really challenged all that I thought I knew about this particular topic. Mom and Dad, I would like you to meet Azeri baklava. To those at home who claim to like baklava: you ain’t seen nothing until you try Azeri baklava which has the added bonus of symbolizing the moon on the Novrus Xonça. While many countries do champion this particular sweet, I do believe that I have come to the end of the proverbial rainbow. Azeri baklava tends to be softer in texture and fuller in taste than its European cousins; the added oil and honey demanding that the sampler stop and enjoy rather than hastily crunching through so as not to spill on our holiday sweaters. I have recently watched the film “Julie and Julia” in which Amy Adams’ character states that, “the day that a meteor is heading toward the earth and we have thirty days to live, I am going to spend it eating butter.” For my money, I would like to replace “butter” with…well, you know. This sentiment may change after the holiday as I am likely to eat many pieces of baklava but I don’t think so—I believe that the phrase goes, “for better or worse.”
In other news, I have officially moved to a lovely house in Salyan, equipped with privacy and a family that gives me the space that I need. With the Novrus holiday upon us, I find myself without library clubs and when not guesting and planning for new post-holiday sessions, I have spent a good amount of time exploring the bazaar and surrounding shopping areas of Salyan. Many of those who have talked to me via letters, email, Skype, etc. know that the Azerbaijan Peace Corps Volunteer is likely to learn at least one thing everyday if she keeps her eyes and ears open. Such lessons do not announce themselves with great pretense or fanfare and are often confined to the realm of daily living—the place that writer Flannery O’Conner describes as extending “from the kitchen to the chicken coop.” As it is, my “lessons” have included such revelations as the exponential improvement of oatmeal after placing apple slices dipped in a cinnamon and sugar mixture.
In the world of the “American Corner,” my counterpart and I will, in addition to our other clubs, begin three new projects. These include a gentle hatha yoga class and a “Spring Club,” focusing on different holidays celebrated in America during the coming months. It was Sevda’s idea and she is really taking the lead on getting it off the ground; a good thing because a great deal of her vision involves the instruction and production of arts and crafts.
However, of all my impending clubs, Chinese Language (Mandarin) and Culture Club is the one about which I am most excited. As many of you know, since being in Azerbaijan, a particular phenomenon has remained constant in my social interactions—that is, the question: “sən nə satlrsan?” (“what are you selling?”). No, I am not attempting to start a sidewalk lemonade stall or provide psychological consultations reminiscent of a certain Peanuts Gang character. Azerbaijan is residence to a burgeoning population of individuals from the People’s Republic of China—some have come to work as laborers in the country’s developing oil industry but most maintain a living by traveling around the regions selling items like backpacks and nick-knacks. Perhaps as a result of these images and those imported through dramas/kung-fu films, it has been my experience that there is relatively little communal understanding of Azerbaijan’s Chinese population and, by extension, ethnically eastern Asian individuals generally. Things tend to become more complicated when a Korean-American adoptee attempts to bridge the disconnect that seems to separate her outward ethnicity and stated nationality—hence the seemingly daily questions regarding the price of things assumed to be my “merchandise” (most often my laptop case or groceries). One may ask, “why then, is this girl starting a Chinese club when she spends most of her day trying to convince people that she is in fact American and not Chinese?” I have come to the conclusion that I have two potential courses of action: A). Get wrapped up in a self-righteous and oblivious angst, rejecting not the homogenizing stereotype of Asian purse-sellers but only my place in that category. B). Use the knowledge courtesy of the St. Olaf College language requirements and Asian Studies Department in an attempt to increase understanding—and hence, humanization—of a group that actually does exist in this community. At the end of the day, I have my American passport, the protection of a kind and dedicated Peace Corps staff, and the ability to leave Azerbaijan if I see fit. Some individuals do not have these privileges but I suspect that they have just as much of a desire to be understood rather than compartmentalized by those who do not share their experiences—it has been my belief that most people do.
The next month will involve a Easter Mass in Baku, a continuation of my odyssey in pursuit of the city’s famed—though hitherto undiscovered—Korean restaurant, and a trip northwest for further adventures. I hope that all is well in your lives as you soldier into springtime!