31 January 2012

How Peace Corps Is Like Surviving the Zombie Apocalypse

I'm not saying I know what it's like to live through a zombie apocalypse, but there is one thing I can easily imagine identifying with: a scarcity of hot showers.  At the risk of overgeneralizing and speaking for everyone, I'm going to go out on a limb and say that the way Peace Corps Volunteers feel about hot, on-demand showery goodness is probably how you would feel about them if you were to survive a zombie apocalypse for any longer than a month (or maybe less).

In general, we Peace Corps Volunteers in Azərbaycan are luckier than most in terms of access to basic utilities like electricity, water, and gas, which powers the stoves (I've seen no electric ranges) and has been the most reliable of the three in my experience thus far.  (I think there would be a real Tea Party revolution here if people had no way to boil water to make çay.)  However, hot showers (in which category I include crouching under a waist high faucet, as long as there's hot water pouring from it) can still be difficult to come by, and the reaction of Morgan and Duane in this scene from
 AMC's excellent adaptation of The Walking Dead pretty well sums up any given Peace Corps Volunteer's feelings about hot, like-manna-from-heaven showers.


30 January 2012

Better Know a Rayon: Ağcabədi (Site Visit)

Intro


I didn't have time to post about my Site Visit in a meaningful way during Pre-Service Training, so I'll do it now.

[The Site Visit helps prepare Peace Corps Trainees for service by providing a first-hand look at the lives of actively serving Peace Corps Volunteers ("PCVs") and the opportunity to learn from their experiences.]


From Sunday, October 16, 2011 to Thursday, October 20, 2011, I traveled to and stayed in the city of Ağcabədi, eponymous capital of the rayon ("region"), with AZ7s Jeff (CED) and his wife Shira (TEFL).

As you can see on the map, Ağcabədi is located roughly in the "palm" of Azərbaycan, slightly south of center.  (In this visual metaphor that is commonly used among PCVs, think of Azərbaycan as a right hand with the palm facing you.  The Abşeron peninsula (where Bakı is) that sticks out into the Caspian is the "thumb."  The protrusion along the south coast is the "wrist," the one along the northern coast is the "first finger," etc.  If you keep going, you'll notice there are really only 3 "fingers," so it's not a human hand, but apparently that of a Disney cartoon character.)

Culturally, Ağcabədi is also fairly "central," in the sense that it is considered more traditional and conservative than other places in the country (such as the north / big cities (namely Bakı, Gəncə, Sumqayıt, and Mingəçevir)).  Unlike in the U.S., this conservatism is not necessarily political or religious but rather manifests itself in a relatively strong version of a post-Soviet mindset characterized by a general underdevelopment of critical thinking / intellectual curiosity and perhaps even a propensity not to see the value of these concepts.  This is not to say that there aren't exceptions, because I met several people who broke this mold, but it is to say that the overall culture has almost certainly resulted in, per capita, fewer exceptions here than you would find in, say, Bakı or Gəncə.  However, the people were as welcoming and hospitable as Azərbaycanis are reputed to be and were, in general, more polite.  Even during my short visit, I noticed less verbal harassment and more respectful behavior from strangers on the street.  Not including staring.  Always with the staring.



In the garden
Getting there


If you don't have your own car (maşın), there are two ways to get to Ağcabədi: taxi and marşrutka.  Marşrutkas are minivans that are frequently packed to the gills with passengers (and perhaps a goat or a chicken), cost 6 AZN, and take about 4.5 to 5 hours to get there from the Yeni Avtovagzal* (New Bus Station) near Bakı.  I've been told that taxis from the İyirmi Yanvar roundabout in Bakı cost about 10 AZN per person but take only about 3.5 hours. 


* The Azərbaycani term "avtovagzal" for bus station may have come from London's Vauxhall station by way of Russia.   The story is that a delegation of Russians visited the station in central London to see how it was being built and mistook "Vauxhall" for the general term for "railway station."  This was transliterated into the Russian "vokzal," signifying a major railway station, which passed into Azərbaycani during the Soviet era and the prefix "avto" was added to distinguish bus stations.


Since it was my first time to travel unchaperoned between cities, it was easier to take a marşrutka from the 'vagzal than to try to find the right taxi at 20 Yanvar (it's a madhouse, I tell you, a madhouse), negotiate the fare with my rudimentary language skills, and not end up on the side of a milk carton.

As one should always do when traveling in the 'Baycan, I went to the bathroom before we left.  Unfortunately, my timing presumed (incorrectly, as it turned out) that the bus would leave on time at 9 a.m.  When intercity buses are not sufficiently full, they will wait until they are before departing, which meant that we didn't leave until about 10:15 a.m. and, more importantly, that my bathroom schedule was way off. 


Luckily, the bus stops halfway through the trip at a rest stop; however, the discomfort of those last 30 minutes cannot be overstated, especially since the road is fairly bumpy (I was sitting above the rear axle), the usual stuffiness was made extra robust by the driver's smoking, and, by this point, a woman of large stature had fallen asleep on me.

And so it was with great relief that I got out at the rest stop.  After taking care of business, as I stretched my legs in the parking lot, one of those seemingly ubiquitous Lada's with fruit in the back window pulled up in the space next to the bus.  Opening the rear driver's side door, the driver pulled out a crate of what looked like a bunch of lamb's wool buffing pads for waxing a car.


Close.  It was a lamb.  

at the rest stop
A guy came out from the çayxana (teahouse), spoke with the driver for a while, and, apparently satisfied with the terms, took the lamb out of the crate, leaving it in the patch of grass between the sidewalk and the patio as he disappeared into the building.  He soon reappeared with a knife - You can probably tell where this is going, so if you're squeamish, skip ahead and don't look too carefully at the picture  - [highlight with your cursor to keep reading]and proceeded to slaughter and dress the lamb right there, first removing the head and feet, then hanging it up to skin it.  I'm not squeamish, so the fact of all this didn't bother me.  I was more surprised by the public location that raised, in my mind, some health code issues. The weird part is that the seller/driver stuck around.  We left before he finished, but I think maybe the deal was that seller got to keep the wool or something. 
Exploring Ağcabədi


First, let me say that my expectations for Ağcabədi were fairly low.  When I told my host family, neighbors, and friends where other trainees were going for their site visits, the reactions were something along the lines of:


"Oh, Zaqatala - the mountains are beautiful!"


"Mingəçevir - very nice and clean city, and you can swim in the reservoir!"


"Lənkəran - beautiful and delicious tea and citrus!"


When I told people (only one of whom had ever actually been there) I was going to Ağcabədi for my site visit, I was met with blank stares, looks of pity, jokes about being so close to the Nagorno-Karabakh border (complete with thumb-and-forefinger gun gestures and "pew-pew" sound effects), or (in the most favorable review from someone who had family there) "it's not the worst."


A) Lazy road construction crew, or
B) environmentally friendly vehicular speed reduction device?
Nevertheless, I had a great time in Ağcabədi for two reasons.  First, the city was not the backwater, podunk town that I had been led to expect.  Second, I had great hosts.


The terrain was surprisingly green, criss-crossed by irrigation canals and patches of grass where farmers stake their cows for grazing.  It felt a little like parts of the countryside in northern Louisiana, but not as lush.  There weren't a lot of trees, and the ones that I saw were not too big or tall, perhaps due to the generally dry climate and irrigation issues.   Maybe this is why they didn't cut down the tree in the pic to the left but rather paved around it.   Or maybe it was just an obstacle to slow down the crazy drivers.


Generally, Ağcabədi appeared to be organized much like many Azərbaycani cities, with one main road, along which you might find the avtovagzal, some shops, the Heydar Aliyev park, and some nicely appointed government buildings.   Off of this main road are little neighborhoods, which seemed to get more and more spread out the farther away you get from the center of Ağcabədi since there's so much land and agriculture.  (The area is known for it's livestock and pomegranate ("nar").  However, nearby Goyçay is home of Nar Fest every fall.)


rental house (L); main house (R)


After Jeff met me near the 'vagzal, we stopped for some kebab (and çay, of course) at a nearby restaurant, and, indeed, the quality of the meat lived up to its reputation.   Then we went home to drop off my things and prepare dinner.


Jeff and Shira's rental was a one-room guest house next to the landlady's main house, which shared a separate tualet building in the yard.  They had their own kitchen on the semi-enclosed patio, and the shower was in the main house.  The tap water was drinkable, and the water tank was huge, providing plenty of running water for the day.


I don't remember exactly what we ate that night.  It might have been the chili, but all the meals were very tasty ("çox dadlı").  In the event that I end up moving out on my own, I hope I can even approach the quality and creativity of Jeff's and Shira's cooking.   Great company and great food. If that isn't nice, I don't know what is.

Work


AIM
The next day, I accompanied Jeff to his primary host organization, the Agro Informasiya Mərkəzi ("AIM"), where his work included facilitating the procurement of equipment for conservation agriculture, delivering presentations regarding soil fertility and agro-forestry, and conducting professional training. Jeff also devised community projects, such as a cycling club, conversation clubs, tutoring, and academic counseling, and worked with other organizations like HEKS-EPER, which seeks to improve market conditions for low-income farmers. In addition, Jeff conducted research on chestnut blight for his Master’s International Program.


Bike Club
Before anyone gets their expectations up about what I'll accomplish while I'm here, I should note that Jeff was a rock-star PCV (not literally. Although we do have a couple of those.).  For example, both times that I heard then-Ambassador Matthew Bryza speak in person, he specifically cited Jeff as an example of the important work that Peace Corps accomplishes.  Of course, I aspire to do as much as I can while I'm here, but consider your expectations managed.


Master’s International Research: Chestnut Blight


Although Jeff initially thought that AIM would be at the center of his research for his Master’s International Program, it soon became apparent that he would have to look elsewhere. Mostly by word of mouth, he became aware of the chestnut blight issue in Azərbaycan.  Chestnut ("şabalıd") blight hit Europe in the 1940s, beginning in Italy, and spread out in roughly concentric circles, reaching Azərbaycan in the last five or six years.  Because it's relatively new here, it was a perfect opportunity for Jeff to conduct field interviews and specimen collection to help researchers fight its spread.


Interviewing and Gender


Jeff's research
Some of the communities in which Jeff spoke to farmers were extremely traditional and conservative, so that he was able to speak only with the men and never the women. As Jeff described it, the women would bring tea to the threshold of the door to the living room, where they would somehow silently signal their presence to the men, in some way that Jeff could not perceive, and the men would take it from the threshold to the table. In order to obtain participation from female interview subjects, Jeff traveled to the ethnic minority Avar communities in the north, where it was culturally acceptable for husbands and wives to be interviewed together.


HEKS-EPER


HEKS-EPER (Hilfswerk der Evangelischen Kirchen Schweiz—Entraide Protestante Suisse) is a Swiss NGO, with which Jeff became acquainted through its partnership with AIM and whose professionals he incorporated into his initiatives. HEKS’s primary project in Azərbaycan is to improve market conditions for low-income dairy farmers, which is funded by the Swiss Agency for Development and Cooperation (SDC, the Swiss equivalent of USAID) and implemented according to the M4P methodology (Making Markets Work for the Poor) with additional focus on Disaster Risk Reduction (e.g., erosion and irrigation issues) and Gender Equality.




kitchen ("mətbəx") & patio dining


HEKS-EPER's office is in a beautiful building with polished hardwood floors and tall ceilings.  When we sat down to talk, however, I heard this weirdly quiet crackling, like the muffled sound of Rice Krispies.  I was told that it was the sound of termites.  Sadly, this might well be seen as an appropriate metaphor.  Even when things look great on the outside, there may be forces at work just under the surface that, if unchecked, would threaten the stability of the existing infrastructure.



HEKS-EPER's approach is an interesting comparison to that of Peace Corps.  By way of a very brief background, the continuum of development approaches available to an aid organization might be summarized like this:


  • TO - deciding what a community needs without their input and simply doing the project "to" the community
  • FOR - facilitating a community's own determination of what it needs (or deciding what a community needs with their input) and doing it for them
  • WITH - facilitating a community's own determination of what it needs and working with the community to accomplish it
  • BY - this is the end goal, where a community has learned the tools to develop and implement its own projects


Peace Corps primarily aims to work WITH communities in order to reach the BY phase, where communities can sustain projects on their own. However, Peace Corps recognizes that any given Peace Corps Volunteer may need to employ TO and FOR approaches sometimes, for example, to establish credibility and trust within a community.


bedroom / living room / dining room / guest room / parlor
Based on my limited information, it would appear that HEKS-EPER also uses a combination of TO, FOR, and WITH approaches but without the long-term goal of empowering communities to design and carry out projects BY themselves.


After an approximately eight-month inception phase of research, analysis, and interviews with the community, HEKS-EPER selected the dairy industry as the area where it could achieve the greatest practical impact. HEKS-EPER aims to improve market conditions for low-income farmers by concentrating on three areas: (i) veterinary services; (ii) artificial insemination; and (iii) livestock feed.  HEKS-EPER does not work directly with farmers but does work with vendors to improve the quality of products and services and systems of distribution in each of these strategic areas.


For example, gender barriers cause significant under-use of veterinary services by rural farms.  The men are frequently away from home during the day, and because it is culturally unacceptable for women to be alone with men who are not part of the family, veterinarians (who are almost always men) cannot visit the farm to tend to the cows during normal working hours.  As a result, many health issues go unattended, negatively impacting production capacity.  HEKS-EPER is helping to address this issue by training female veterinary assistants, who will be able to visit farms tended by female farmers during the day, and generally improving the quality of veterinary training in the region.


Dairy Factory


One challenge for HEKS’ efforts to improve the dairy market will surely be Atena’s operation of a high-tech dairy processing plant (completed) and dairy barn (under construction), which I was fortunate enough to tour during my visit. The dairy factory features state-of-the art pasteurization technology, on-site container fabrication, quality control lab, and automated packaging, all of which is connected to a nationwide cold-chain system that begins with the delivery of raw milk to the factory and ends at point-of-sale distribution in retail shops (which may or may not stay cold depending on whether electricity is continuous).


Our tour began with donning white lab coats and hair nets.  After passing through an air lock, we sanitized our hands at one station, went through a turnstile, stood on a grate that brushed and sanitized the bottoms of our shoes, and finally slipped on some blue shoe covers.  Inside was an impressive operation, gleaming with stainless steel and filled with the gentle hum of smoothly running machinery and conveyor belts, which could all be controlled remotely from a central control room.




Unfortunately, neither Jeff nor I had the presence of mind to take pictures (I'm not even sure it would have been allowed), but click here for a picture of President Aliyev visiting the same factory.  And here are some more pics of the President's visit to Ağcabədi (scroll through to pix 40-47 for more pictures of the President at the factory).



Reportedly, the factory has the capacity to process more than a couple hundred thousand liters of milk per day. Local dairy farmers, however, generally produce milk only at subsistence levels and could probably provide Atena with maybe 5% (at most) of its production capacity, even if the quality were acceptable. Accordingly, Atena is said to be importing milk from numerous international sources, but still operates well below full capacity.  When the dairy barn project is complete, it is anticipated to meet the supply demanded by the factory's daily production capacity.

One agronomist opined that farmers’ cooperatives would be critical to helping local farmers improve their position in the future. This can only be more true as Atena ramps up production at the barn and factory.


After the tour, Jeff and I walked back to the city center, which was a good one and half hour trek through the countryside, and just one of many similar walks that we took.  I never really noticed the time though because we had a lot of things to discuss, and the conversation was always good.


I also tagged along to a couple of Shira's conversation clubs (it's like two site visits for the price of one!) and visited a number of other people.  Suffice it to say that I had a great site visit to Ağcabədi, thanks to Jeff and Shira's hospitality and general awesomeness.

21 January 2012

Better Know a Holiday: 20 Yanvar (20th of January 1990)

20 Yanvar Memorial at Martyrs' Lane, Baku*
Preface.  I had wanted to post this yesterday, but by the time I had finished drafting, we lost power for the rest of the night.

The Day of Nationwide Sorrow.  İyirmi Yanvar (20 January) is a secular holiday to honor those who died on 19-20 January 1990 when the Soviet army rolled into Baku to put down a protest, killing approximately 130 people and wounding 700+ more.

Having occurred only 22 years ago, the tragedy is very much within recent memory.  I've talked to many a person who was there and/or who knew someone who was killed.  In my community, just down the way, is a street named for a friend's relative who died in the attack.

Burial of victims of 20 Yanvar*
It can be challenging for foreigners to understand the significance of 20 Yanvar in the national psyche of Azərbaycan.  To help put it in perspective for Americans, indulge me for a moment.

Imagine that it's the turn of the 19th Century in America.  The young nation has just elected its third president, Thomas Jefferson.   Only 25 years before had the people of these newly United States, living in some outlying territories of a world power, waged and won their War of Independence.  Maybe you and your family still remember the death, chaos, and fear first-hand.  George Washington, founding father and general during that war, had just died in 1799. The Boston Massacre, which foreshadowed the outbreak of the American Revolution, is freshly within living memory.

March 5, 1770, Boston.  Turmoil brews just under the surface of the city.  The taxation of trade to the outlying colonies is in dispute.  British troops have essentially occupied Boston to help enforce these taxes, the Townshend Acts, which are highly unpopular and considered oppressive by many.  Outbreaks of brawling between soldiers and your sons, brothers, and fathers are not uncommon.  You are afraid that, at any moment, the British will force you to quarter soldiers in your house.

Portrayal of Boston Massacre engraved by Paul Revere.
(Copyright expired.)
One evening, Edward Garrick - maybe you knew him from the barbershop where he was an apprentice - exchanges insults with a British sentry, Hugh White.  Tempers rise and White strikes Garrick on the side of his head with the butt of his rifle.  Garrick calls out.  A mob forms and begins throwing things at White, who calls for backup.  Seven soldiers join Garrick.  The crowd swells to around three or four hundred.  Some of them are your friends, your neighbors.  The Captain shouts for the crowd to disperse.  They do not, continuing to taunt the soldiers, yelling "fire!" The crowd knocks down a soldier, who drops his weapon.  He recovers his musket and discharges it into the crowd, shouting, "Damn you, fire!" In the confusion, the soldiers shoot into the crowd, killing three immediately and two others who die later of their wounds.   The crowd disperses.

Although only five people were killed in the Boston Massacre, it turned the tide of public sentiment against the British empire, which ruled from afar, and fueled the movement for independence.  In the aftermath, the British Parliament repealed most of the taxes in the Townshend Acts but retained the tax on tea, unknowingly setting the stage for the Boston Tea Party and, eventually, the Revolutionary War.

Imagine that, in addition to the feelings of patriotism associated with this and subsequent events on the road to independence, you knew some of the people who died.  They were your relatives, friends, or fiancés.  Maybe someone you had just seen the day before and took for granted you would see the next had been crushed by a tank 22 years ago.  Maybe that begins to capture the mixture of emotions surrounding 20 Yanvar in Azərbaycani culture, a combination of personal sadness, outrage, and nationalism.

The tragedy of 20 Yanvar 1990 is considered to have unified public support for independence and been a significant milestone in  the collapse of the Soviet Union, which experienced increasing difficulty ruling the outlying republics from Moscow.  Azərbaycan declared independence the following year.  Gorbachev later remarked in his April 27, 1995 speech in Istanbul that "[t]he declaration of a state of emergency in Baku was the biggest mistake of my political career....."

I don't mean to say that 20 Yanvar and the Boston Massacre were exactly the same (and not that the American Revolution and Azərbaycani independence were the same), but I hope that drawing some parallels can help non-Azərbaycanis to a better understanding of the culture and history. 

Stamp commemorating 20 Yanvar.** 
Most years, throngs of people process down along Şəhidlər Xiyabanı ("Alley of Martyrs" or "Martyrs' Lane") and around the eternal fire memorial in Bakı to honor the deceased, leaving red carnations (the symbol of 20 Yanvar) on the graves, but people have commented to me that due to the cold and snow this year, the throngs may have been slightly less throng-ish than usual.  Indeed, when I suggested on Thursday to one person that we go, the skeptical response was basically, "Well, if you want to..."  Certainly, I would be the first to admit that it was much more comfortable ("rahat," from the Persian, meaning "the palm of the hand" or "ease / tranquility") to watch the coverage on TV.  Bonus: better viewing angles and hot tea while you watch.

The story behind the red carnations.  I've heard a number of origin stories for the tradition of leaving red carnations on 20 Yanvar.  One is that red carnations were popularly exchanged among couples, and because there were many student couples among the protesters, the streets were strewn with red carnations during the chaos.  Another story is that Azərbaycan used to export red carnations to the rest of the Soviet Union, so in protest against the Soviet invasion, Azərbaycanis laid down their red carnations in the streets before the advancing troops. (An almost identical version of this story is recounted noted by another Peace Corps Volunteer here.) The most pragmatic explanation I've heard is that red carnations were plentiful in Bakı at the time, so when the unexpected and tragic need for massive quantities of flowers arose, red carnations became the flower of choice, essentially out of necessity.

Eternal Fire Memorial*
    Some links about 20 Yanvar:
    • A selection of Azərbaycani press coverage in English here (article and photos of President Aliyev paying tribute), here (general article), here (attempted protest outside Russian embassy), and here.
    • Reflections by an Azərbaycani blogger on the dark events that occurred shortly after he had turned one.
    • Other posts by Peace Corps Volunteers about 20 Yanvar here and here.
    * Permission to use these images granted through the GNU Free Documentation License.
    ** Image in public domain pursuant to the law of the Azerbaijan Republic "On Copyright and Neighboring Right," No. 115-1Q of 5 June 1996.




    06 January 2012

    A Very Peace Corps Christmas in Azerbaijan

    Twas the week before Christmas, and it didn't feel like Christmas - even though there are Christmas decorations everywhere, which are used here to qəşəng* things up for New Year's, and you even overhear occasional snippets of Christmas songs and glimpse sightings of red-and-white-suited Şaxta Baba a/k/a Santa Claus / Father Christmas, who is also associated here with New Year's, not Christmas.

    *See previous post.

    Even though it didn't feel like it in the days and weeks leading up, by the time I had rendezvoused with a bunch of other Peace Corps Volunteers in Mingəçevir, our gracious co-hosts (both of whose initials are, coincidentally J.B.) had decorated, and we made our way to a country western themed bar (had I known, I would have worn my cowboy boots!), somehow it finally felt like the holiday season.

    At the C-and-W bar, we dined (some of us with more cognitive dissonance than others) on chicken schwarma wraps, Georgian xəngəl (which is like large Asian dumplings filled with a spiced meat concoction), and exchanged White Elephant gifts (Rules: unwrap, no limit on steals, but you can steal only after winning two out of three rounds of rock-paper-scissors).  There may also have been some partaking of beer by the economy-sized liter.  Because it's more, um, cost-efficient to drink in bulk.

    You know what's an even more cost-efficient way to drink?  At home. Which is where we went after the bar.  Good times were had, but from what I hear, there were fewer shenanigans than the previous Christmas.

    The next day, some of us trundled off to a village in the northern rayon (region) of Zaqatala for Christmas / Eve.  After about four hours on a couple of crowded marşrutkas and a pit stop for final cooking supplies, we arrived in a picturesque village that many of us might have envisioned for our "true" Peace Corps village experience, complete with horse-drawn carts and wood-burning peç (stove).   But even this imagined ideal would be met with the reality of cars alongside the carts and a wifi router not far from the peç.  As in many countries that have experienced rapid economic development, Azərbaycan is a land of contrasts.



    We spent the afternoon of Christmas Eve cooking in preparation for the next day, making home-made Secret Santa gifts for each other, and experimenting with an eggnog recipe, which turned out well.  We watched the Santa Clause and Home Alone 2.  I hadn't seen either, and since M. and I were making pumpkin pie and cinnamon rolls in the kitchen, I still haven't.  Imagine my heartbreak.

    On Christmas day, we opened presents, ate a breakfast of cinnamon rolls and coffee cake, watched more movies (A Christmas Story, of course), played games (cards, Scattergories, and the Exquisite Corpse), and finalized prep for Christmas dinner.  Our menu consisted of the following:


    • Curry Pumpkin Soup
    • Vegetarian Lasagna (which was ingeniously delicious, especially since we didn't have ricotta, mozarella, or lasagna noodles)
    • Beet and Goat-Cheese-Substitute Salad
    • Stuffing
    • Mashed Potatoes
    • Rolls
    • Pumpkin Pie
    • Appleturnover
    • Pineapple Pomegranate Fruit Salad
    • Apple Cider (complete with sticks of cinnamon for stirring) and more eggnog, whose recipe continued to be improved upon from the previous night


    Throughout the day, people also Skyped with family (courtesy of the seemingly incongruous availability of wifi), tossed a football around on the porch (it was far too muddy in the yard), and generally hung out and goofed off.  (I also did some yoga, and although I did not teach a class, I did help someone isolate his serratus anterior for future practice.)

    As we celebrated Christmas in Peace Corps fashion, the landlady's family went about their business, including preparations for building an addition to their house.   (A comparative analysis of American and Azərbaycani building techniques would be fascinating, but it's beyond the scope of this post and my expertise.  However, based on what I've seen and heard so far, I would propose that we add "DIY construction," alongside laws and sausages, to the list of things that you're better off not knowing how they're made.)

    All told, an excellent Christmas, without family, but with new friends.

    xmastable xmasgathering