My sitemate finished her 27 months of service last week. Sending her on her way was one of my more bittersweet Peace Corps experiences. But I have plenty of happy and rewarding memories of our time together to help me survive the winter without her.
I am aware that that last sentence reads like the unhappy ending to some sort of teenage melodrama so let me rephrase: I will miss her gas heat, reliable electricity and the 4 burners on her stove. I am far too practical to resort to crying jags. (Haha.)
Leslie taught me some important PCV survival skills:
There is no such thing as too much toilet paper. One should have at least six rolls in reserve at any given time.
Sometimes the only way to recover from a particularly rough day is make obscene quantities of popcorn and watch Mama Mia. (Singing along with Meryl Streep is optional. Sorta.)
Whenever at a loss about what to make for dinner, there will always be surplus of chicken noodle soup in the pantry.
Leslie also made my life just a little bit easier:
She read The Economist magazines my mother sent so that I didn’t have to.
She always did the washing up. (I have always had a tendency to never do my dishes.)
She single-handedly taught the majority of the shopkeepers in our city the English words for most of the foodstuffs on my shopping lists.
She left me an incredible collection of DVDs (albeit frustratingly non-sequential ones.)
She left me her internet-enabled phone. Which will be awesome. As soon as I figure out how to use it…
But the more entertaining aspects of our give and take relationship aside, I am going to miss her more than I am willing to admit in cyberspace. We made a great team. It takes a special sort of person to serve in this region. And she made it the two full years.
Enjoy that steak (and the indoor plumbing), Leslie. You’ve earned it. J
Monday, November 22, 2010
Monday, November 8, 2010
The 'Candy Holiday' Extravaganza
A few days before Halloween I was over at my neighbours’ drinking tea, and trying to figure out the logistics of having a costume party in the village.
Due to my lack of imagination the best way I could think to explain Halloween in Azerbaijani was as ‘the candy holiday for children.’ I thought it was a pretty accurate description. Fortunately, someone realised I was talking about Halloween. Although the revelation that such a holiday actually exists caused much laughter - the mother of the family had been sure I’d been joking. America really is a strange and wonderful place.
(But Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory is better.)
I went out and bought an obscene amount of candy from the village store. If nothing else, I could eat it myself. The resulting purchase of two kilos of refined sugar in various forms confused the shopkeeper. Remember this is the guy I buy my mass quantities of spinach and carrots from. I was acting a little bit out of character.
Sunday was a grey and rainy day. Which did not bode well for the mini costume party I had planned for my 6th graders. (The 6th grade English textbook has a text on Halloween.)
The final count was six kids. Three of whom were my landlady’s children (and therefore live across the street.) But I did have one student come who traveled from the opposite side of the village. The other two were my Director’s granddaughters. The number is un-important.
Most importantly: There were costumes. Properly thought out and elaborately executed costumes. There was a pirate – complete with eye patch, goatee and skull and cross bones flag. There was a wizard- complete with starry cone hat and black cape. There was a princess – complete with fur stole and heels. There was a vampire – whose costume consisted of turning up the collar of a black trench-coat yet was very effective. (If said coat had been a few sizes bigger I would have stolen it for myself.) So I’d like to think I spent Halloween in the company of Jack Sparrow, Harry Potter, Princess Anastasia and a distant relative of Edward Cullen. I was so impressed I took pictures.
I’m pretty sure these kids put more thought into their costumes than I have ever put into any of my own. I didn’t dress up especially for the party, but I feel like the bizarre collection of clothing I had to wear in order to stay warm qualifies as a rather convincing impersonation of Miss. Haversham, if she had lived during the 21st century in Azerbaijan. (I would like to take this opportunity to admit the only version I have ever read of Great Expectations was written for 9-year-olds.)
Then we spent a rather enjoyable hour drawing and playing party games. I tried to get the kids to draw jack o’laterns, but my good intentions were thwarted by culture. Pumpkins in Azerbaijan just aren’t shaped that way. Due to improper instruments (read: blunt knife) I had to abandon my attempt to carve a pumpkin. Which was probably the best possible outcome for all involved. Then we played Time Bingo (got to educate at every opportunity) and pin the tail on the donkey. A good time was had by all.
I would consider it a definitive success. Even if the concept of consuming mass quanities of candy was lost on the majority of the attendees – that’s OK more for me!
Due to my lack of imagination the best way I could think to explain Halloween in Azerbaijani was as ‘the candy holiday for children.’ I thought it was a pretty accurate description. Fortunately, someone realised I was talking about Halloween. Although the revelation that such a holiday actually exists caused much laughter - the mother of the family had been sure I’d been joking. America really is a strange and wonderful place.
(But Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory is better.)
I went out and bought an obscene amount of candy from the village store. If nothing else, I could eat it myself. The resulting purchase of two kilos of refined sugar in various forms confused the shopkeeper. Remember this is the guy I buy my mass quantities of spinach and carrots from. I was acting a little bit out of character.
Sunday was a grey and rainy day. Which did not bode well for the mini costume party I had planned for my 6th graders. (The 6th grade English textbook has a text on Halloween.)
The final count was six kids. Three of whom were my landlady’s children (and therefore live across the street.) But I did have one student come who traveled from the opposite side of the village. The other two were my Director’s granddaughters. The number is un-important.
Most importantly: There were costumes. Properly thought out and elaborately executed costumes. There was a pirate – complete with eye patch, goatee and skull and cross bones flag. There was a wizard- complete with starry cone hat and black cape. There was a princess – complete with fur stole and heels. There was a vampire – whose costume consisted of turning up the collar of a black trench-coat yet was very effective. (If said coat had been a few sizes bigger I would have stolen it for myself.) So I’d like to think I spent Halloween in the company of Jack Sparrow, Harry Potter, Princess Anastasia and a distant relative of Edward Cullen. I was so impressed I took pictures.
I’m pretty sure these kids put more thought into their costumes than I have ever put into any of my own. I didn’t dress up especially for the party, but I feel like the bizarre collection of clothing I had to wear in order to stay warm qualifies as a rather convincing impersonation of Miss. Haversham, if she had lived during the 21st century in Azerbaijan. (I would like to take this opportunity to admit the only version I have ever read of Great Expectations was written for 9-year-olds.)
Then we spent a rather enjoyable hour drawing and playing party games. I tried to get the kids to draw jack o’laterns, but my good intentions were thwarted by culture. Pumpkins in Azerbaijan just aren’t shaped that way. Due to improper instruments (read: blunt knife) I had to abandon my attempt to carve a pumpkin. Which was probably the best possible outcome for all involved. Then we played Time Bingo (got to educate at every opportunity) and pin the tail on the donkey. A good time was had by all.
I would consider it a definitive success. Even if the concept of consuming mass quanities of candy was lost on the majority of the attendees – that’s OK more for me!
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