Apologies, I had every intention of updating my blog with this month's (April's) adventures. But I got distracted by the conference I was attending and all the fancy food. I am a simple a village girl.
So the posts below are from March. Novruz is on March 21.
I will try to catch up with myself promptly. If the internet co-operates.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Five Reasons Why I Never Stay In A Hotel When I Visit Baku
ONE: I arrived in Xirdalan, walked through the front door and promptly tripped over the ‘red oven’ (Imagine a easy bake oven on steroids.) set up in the middle of the floor. When I asked why the oven was in use, Ata announced that he was making pizza – albeit with mayonnaise - for dinner because his American daughter was home for the week. Not to be out done, Ana made mashed potatoes and hot dogs (aka saugsages) for dinner the next night. And they saved me the bottom third of the pineapple from the holiday festivities.
TWO: I was able to watch a round-up of the week’s Premiership action on TV. Ironically, I knew the scores and standings at the top of the table before my Dad had a chance to watch the matches he’d TiVo’d while he was away on business. Even more bizarrely, I caught part of a spring training baseball game over breakfast one morning.
THREE: I didn’t have to go to a salon to get my hair cut. Or worry that half my hair would end up on the floor. A neighbour cut it for me and I was able to explain exactly what I wanted. (Half my hair still ended up on the floor).
FOUR: I got to sit in the kitchen and talk about the meaning of life while meals were being prepared or eaten and tea drunk. Sometimes the conversations were serious: The Hazards of Living in One Room. Sometimes the conversations caused outbursts of laughter: Ata’s perennially in-progress venture: The List of Things America Doesn’t Have, Therefore Azerbaijan is Better.
FIVE: I was informed that my 3 year-old ‘nephew’ refers to the ‘flat above the garage’ as ‘Melissa’s House’.
But beyond the pizza and pineapple or indoor plumbing and hot water on demand, or any other way in which Ata and Ana demonstrate incredible hospitality and generosity every time they welcome me into their house. (Ana makes my grey-tinged shirts white again and Ata drives me to the bus station on the outskirts of civilization.) I don’t stay in a hotel when I visit Baku, simply because Xirdalan feels like ‘home’. ☺
The next installment of “Why Melissa Loves Ata and Ana So Much” will be coming to blog post near you later in April. Complete with six-month old photographic evidence of the dynamic duo themselves…
TWO: I was able to watch a round-up of the week’s Premiership action on TV. Ironically, I knew the scores and standings at the top of the table before my Dad had a chance to watch the matches he’d TiVo’d while he was away on business. Even more bizarrely, I caught part of a spring training baseball game over breakfast one morning.
THREE: I didn’t have to go to a salon to get my hair cut. Or worry that half my hair would end up on the floor. A neighbour cut it for me and I was able to explain exactly what I wanted. (Half my hair still ended up on the floor).
FOUR: I got to sit in the kitchen and talk about the meaning of life while meals were being prepared or eaten and tea drunk. Sometimes the conversations were serious: The Hazards of Living in One Room. Sometimes the conversations caused outbursts of laughter: Ata’s perennially in-progress venture: The List of Things America Doesn’t Have, Therefore Azerbaijan is Better.
FIVE: I was informed that my 3 year-old ‘nephew’ refers to the ‘flat above the garage’ as ‘Melissa’s House’.
But beyond the pizza and pineapple or indoor plumbing and hot water on demand, or any other way in which Ata and Ana demonstrate incredible hospitality and generosity every time they welcome me into their house. (Ana makes my grey-tinged shirts white again and Ata drives me to the bus station on the outskirts of civilization.) I don’t stay in a hotel when I visit Baku, simply because Xirdalan feels like ‘home’. ☺
The next installment of “Why Melissa Loves Ata and Ana So Much” will be coming to blog post near you later in April. Complete with six-month old photographic evidence of the dynamic duo themselves…
Novruz: The Super Holiday
Novruz is the biggest national holiday on the Azerbaijani calendar. I heard people talking about it for most of the winter, and was not thoroughly convinced it would live up to the hype. I was wrong. Norvuz is a super holiday. In both the super-fantastic and the super-human senses.
Below is a list of the ways in which Novruz appears to be an amalgamation of all the holidays I have celebrated in my lifetime. I have decided to provide an explanation this way because I figure that the best way to explain something unknown is through something known. And yes, I am also being lazy. Apologies. If you want a more complete explanation, Google it. (Also: 5-syllable word!)
FIVE HOLIDAYS BECOME ONE
Halloween: There is a variant of trick-or-treating in the evenings: “Throwing of the Hats”. Small children knock on neighbours’ doors, leave their hats on the doorstep for treats and run away before the door is opened. (Then retrieve their hats, obviously)
Thanksgiving: There is so much food. I literally had four meals. I don’t think I have ever had such a bad food coma.
Easter: There are dyed eggs as part of the table centerpiece. At the end of the meal each person takes one and taps it against the egg of the person sitting next to them. What this is meant to signify I do not know. I missed the explanation. Oops.
Guy Fawkes Night: There is a bonfire. This is the main tradition of Novruz – fire jumping. In fact it happens on three separate occasions. I was eventually convinced that I would not die if I jumped. (Clearly these people do not understand about my dire balance issues). So I did. But the camera died before photographic evidence could be obtained. Miraculously no injuries, fatal or otherwise, were sustained.
Fourth of July: There were fireworks. Or at least it sounded like fireworks. I was inside the house. But the noise definitely caused me to look up from my dinner.
Oh and for anyone that cares, according to a fortune-telling technique that involves a glass of water, a strand of hair and a ring: I will be getting married at 28. Is it wishful thinking to hope that this will put an end to the often asked question: Why aren’t you married yet? Probably. Oh well.
Below is a list of the ways in which Novruz appears to be an amalgamation of all the holidays I have celebrated in my lifetime. I have decided to provide an explanation this way because I figure that the best way to explain something unknown is through something known. And yes, I am also being lazy. Apologies. If you want a more complete explanation, Google it. (Also: 5-syllable word!)
FIVE HOLIDAYS BECOME ONE
Halloween: There is a variant of trick-or-treating in the evenings: “Throwing of the Hats”. Small children knock on neighbours’ doors, leave their hats on the doorstep for treats and run away before the door is opened. (Then retrieve their hats, obviously)
Thanksgiving: There is so much food. I literally had four meals. I don’t think I have ever had such a bad food coma.
Easter: There are dyed eggs as part of the table centerpiece. At the end of the meal each person takes one and taps it against the egg of the person sitting next to them. What this is meant to signify I do not know. I missed the explanation. Oops.
Guy Fawkes Night: There is a bonfire. This is the main tradition of Novruz – fire jumping. In fact it happens on three separate occasions. I was eventually convinced that I would not die if I jumped. (Clearly these people do not understand about my dire balance issues). So I did. But the camera died before photographic evidence could be obtained. Miraculously no injuries, fatal or otherwise, were sustained.
Fourth of July: There were fireworks. Or at least it sounded like fireworks. I was inside the house. But the noise definitely caused me to look up from my dinner.
Oh and for anyone that cares, according to a fortune-telling technique that involves a glass of water, a strand of hair and a ring: I will be getting married at 28. Is it wishful thinking to hope that this will put an end to the often asked question: Why aren’t you married yet? Probably. Oh well.
A Solider Party
In Azerbaijan, there is compulsory military service. Most boys have to join up shortly after their 18th birthday. Or after they graduate from secondary school. Whichever comes first. At least, I think those are the rules. It is milestone in a young man’s life. Therefore, there is a big party involved where relatives and friends gather together to send the young man off in style: A Solider Party. This week Xala and I went to such a party for her brother’s son. Which I guess means he was her nephew. Azerbaijani is impairing my English vocabulary.
It was a Monday. I came home from school, and was told that a relative would be by to pick us up shortly. Twenty minutes later, at three o’clock in the afternoon, still in my school clothes I was en route to the party.
We were insanely early. Xala falls into the close relative category so she had to arrive hours beforehand to help set up. I helped set the tables for a little bit then went to sit and chat with the other ladies over tea. At some point I closed my eyes for a minute, and woke up an hour later with a pillow under my head and a baby blanket over me. Oops. In my defense, I had a full day of lessons and had been up since 7 AM. Besides, naps are good for your health.
Eventually, the festivities began in earnest, and every moved outside into a huge marquee. Men on the right. Women on the left. I ended up at a table on the opposite end of the room from Xala and any other relatives I recognized. Poor planning. But the food was good, so I just smiled politely and ate a lot.
Also, an endearing cultural note: to mark the start of the party, father and son were required to dance together. In Azerbaijani this party is called ‘the solider wedding’, so I guess it’s the equivalent of the father-daughter dance.
Then it was time for dancing. For the men. The women sat for at least two hours watching the men dance. I went inside at some point, borrowed a coat and had some tea. The weather was windy and it was cold sitting for two hours straight. It almost made me wish I had been allowed to help with clean up because Xala was outside dancing as she did the dishes.
But then it was Xala to the rescue. She walked into the tent and announced at the top of her voice that it was time for the women to dance, and that ‘the children’ – the soon-to-be solider and all his friends - needed to sit down now. It took a few tries, but she was eventually successful. Although there were a few minor vodka-inspired brawls in the interim that various older male relatives had to referee. Another wedding parallel perhaps.
Now to the dancing (that I got to partake in): I spent the better part of two hours attempt to mimic the very precise minimal movements of the women around me. With some element of success, or maybe everyone was just having fun watching the strange American and didn’t bother to correct me. Besides, I can’t dance the American way either. But I had fun.
Near the end of the night, the men and the women were allowed to share the dance floor. Which means my host ‘brother-in-law’ took every available opportunity to drag me back out onto the dance floor, and put me in my host ‘sister-in-law’s care. But I didn’t feel too picked on because he did the same to Xala. The Azerbaijani style of dancing doesn’t look very strenuous at first glance – for the women; the men have some rather complex footwork to master. But it definitely tires you out and tones the arms.
We headed home late in the evening. After Xala had shouted ‘Enough” at the DJ about a dozen times – with little success. I was in bed a few minutes before midnight. So I didn’t turn into a pumpkin. Although when I woke up the next morning, it was difficult to get out of bed.
Fortunately, Tuesday morning was the last day of class for almost two weeks. Celebrations and preparations for Novrus have started in earnest now. Novrus is the springtime holiday, and the most important in the Azerbaijani national calendar.
I have been hearing about it for months (we all need something to talk about during the winter), so I am excited to experience it. But I think this ‘solider party’ was the perfect way to kick off festivities.
Happy Spring!
It was a Monday. I came home from school, and was told that a relative would be by to pick us up shortly. Twenty minutes later, at three o’clock in the afternoon, still in my school clothes I was en route to the party.
We were insanely early. Xala falls into the close relative category so she had to arrive hours beforehand to help set up. I helped set the tables for a little bit then went to sit and chat with the other ladies over tea. At some point I closed my eyes for a minute, and woke up an hour later with a pillow under my head and a baby blanket over me. Oops. In my defense, I had a full day of lessons and had been up since 7 AM. Besides, naps are good for your health.
Eventually, the festivities began in earnest, and every moved outside into a huge marquee. Men on the right. Women on the left. I ended up at a table on the opposite end of the room from Xala and any other relatives I recognized. Poor planning. But the food was good, so I just smiled politely and ate a lot.
Also, an endearing cultural note: to mark the start of the party, father and son were required to dance together. In Azerbaijani this party is called ‘the solider wedding’, so I guess it’s the equivalent of the father-daughter dance.
Then it was time for dancing. For the men. The women sat for at least two hours watching the men dance. I went inside at some point, borrowed a coat and had some tea. The weather was windy and it was cold sitting for two hours straight. It almost made me wish I had been allowed to help with clean up because Xala was outside dancing as she did the dishes.
But then it was Xala to the rescue. She walked into the tent and announced at the top of her voice that it was time for the women to dance, and that ‘the children’ – the soon-to-be solider and all his friends - needed to sit down now. It took a few tries, but she was eventually successful. Although there were a few minor vodka-inspired brawls in the interim that various older male relatives had to referee. Another wedding parallel perhaps.
Now to the dancing (that I got to partake in): I spent the better part of two hours attempt to mimic the very precise minimal movements of the women around me. With some element of success, or maybe everyone was just having fun watching the strange American and didn’t bother to correct me. Besides, I can’t dance the American way either. But I had fun.
Near the end of the night, the men and the women were allowed to share the dance floor. Which means my host ‘brother-in-law’ took every available opportunity to drag me back out onto the dance floor, and put me in my host ‘sister-in-law’s care. But I didn’t feel too picked on because he did the same to Xala. The Azerbaijani style of dancing doesn’t look very strenuous at first glance – for the women; the men have some rather complex footwork to master. But it definitely tires you out and tones the arms.
We headed home late in the evening. After Xala had shouted ‘Enough” at the DJ about a dozen times – with little success. I was in bed a few minutes before midnight. So I didn’t turn into a pumpkin. Although when I woke up the next morning, it was difficult to get out of bed.
Fortunately, Tuesday morning was the last day of class for almost two weeks. Celebrations and preparations for Novrus have started in earnest now. Novrus is the springtime holiday, and the most important in the Azerbaijani national calendar.
I have been hearing about it for months (we all need something to talk about during the winter), so I am excited to experience it. But I think this ‘solider party’ was the perfect way to kick off festivities.
Happy Spring!
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