Only in the Footnotes

I haven’t written in a while and really there’re so many things that have happened and need to be said but instead I would like to write about nothing today.
This afternoon I made tuna melts for lunch. They were delicious. I toasted some chorek (bread) in the red soba (electrical oven) face down with a little bit of butter. Boiled two eggs, diced an onion, some garlic and a homemade pickle and mixed it all up with some of that delicious 100% percent fat mayonnaise that they love so much here. Then I added some pimenton, spread the tuna salad on the chorek, placed some sliced gouda cheese on top, and stuck that bad boy back in the soba. Like I said, it was delicious. But midway through, the only thing I was thinking of as I jammed in one bite after another was, man, I really wish this was an open faced ham sandwich instead. I’m in a Muslim country. Awesome.

I have such a dedicated cleaning regiment these days; one that I never had at home. Before I go to sleep, I use an astringent and face moisturizer. In the mornings I use one that has UV protection. After I shower, I always use a mix of lotion and baby oil (a really great trick I learned from Nate’s mom and to answer your question yes, I do feel like I have baby soft skin afterwards.) I even make sure I floss my teeth every single night and brush with my electric toothbrush for at least two minutes. I’ve become neurotic with this last act. Regardless, my third to last tooth on the right side hurts and has been hurting for some time now. I’m pretty sure it’s a cavity. Sorry Uncle Chester, but it’s probably caused by the 10 pieces of candy I eat in between the brushing.

I eat nuts now. Like walnuts. Like raw walnuts. They’re pretty good with raisins. Who am I?
I also eat beans. Seriously who am I? If I was in a country that ate tofu, I’m pretty sure I’d have to go see a shrink due to displacement of identity.

Baku is a seriously deadly place for PC Volunteers. It is deliciously evil and horribly wonderful. I ate ham there.

I was going to introduce myself as "Teacher Clarissa. Long lost relative of Jackie Chan" to my students but I didn’t have the guts to. I’m hoping to spill it out sometime in the two years I’m here.

I’ve only washed my underwear twice since I’ve been here because I brought so many. One for everyday for more than two months. On a clothes line, from end to end, they stretch out to about eight feet. My little host grandma got a pretty good kick out of that. They looked like Tibetan prayer flags. I mean, I thought it was kind of a transcendental moment seeing my undies fluttering in the wind.

My new favorite thing: bread, cream, and fig jam. Heaven in my mouth. I refuse to leave this country without learning how to make fig jam.
The new cheese this week: smoked gouda. I can’t believe I spent so much time thinking of ways to send cheese from home. So far I’ve eaten a feta type cheese, kind of Swiss cheese, havarti, and this gouda (yes, Nate, I know that made you think of money haha and yes, I know you that well.)

My host mom gives me these little squares of insect repellent to burn every night before I go to sleep and every night I think, how many carcinogens am I breathing in right now?, as I’m trying to look across the room through the smoke. But then I think about that time when a mosquito bit me on the bottom of my right foot and on my right left toe and I woke up from the painful itch and how I seriously thought I got athlete’s foot for days and was completely mortified with how gross my body had become until I finally saw the two little bumps. Then I just don’t care about the breathing in of that smoke. I’ll take that over these little predators any day. Hunting them has become a real hobby of mine.

My host sister asked me to write down the lyrics of Thriller for her. When I got to the word "creature" I stumbled a bit and finally wrote "creecher." Did you know I was here to teach English to these kids? The US government deemed me qualified so that is good enough for me!
I think I want to be Suzie homemaker when I get back to the States. I am going to make my own jam which I made with the fruits that I planted in my own garden and spread them on the bread that I made. Everyone does this here you know? It doesn’t look difficult. I’m pretty sure I could as well. (Right now, in my head, I have an image of my aunt doing one of her exasperated why-bother eye rolls that she’s so good at.)

Here’s one more that’s really not a footnote but needs to be penned out there somewhere: I don’t know if you’ll ever read this but Jen, you’re my girl. Whatever has happened or won’t happen, we shared some real emotions out there in Philadelphia; probably the greatest range of human emotions that I’ve ever shared with any one person in such a short amount of time and for that, you’re my girl. I hope to see you again.