I recently received a few guests into my adopted country. My mom, dad, and Nate came for a visit over Novruz break. It was such a revitalizing way to recount all the things that I do enjoy here and a reminder of all the things I have had to grow accustomed to. While in the Peace Corps community, Azerbaijan is dubbed as “Posh” Corps (reference to the DSL internet, cell phones, convenient living arrangements- running water and electricity), a quick glance at my mother’s face as she gingerly stepped into my living room, hands in pocket, and discontent in her inspections, shed a glaring truth that I have not reflected on in over a year. My living room, Little America, is not actually America.
As it turns out, second nature can develop in a short time span. Water conservation, avoiding goose poop, kissing strange women on the cheek in greeting, drinking five cups of tea without having to use the restroom, and wearing the same clothes for over a week are natural reflexes… now. But watching my mother, (I’m sorry Mom) whose emotions can be read like the letter “E” at the top of an optical examination, made it clear to me that these are foreign ,cultural, everyday actions. Before they came, my counterpart asked me what she could do to make everyone feel more comfortable when we went over for dinner. I told her they might ask for a knife to cut meat with. She laughed nervously and said she only had large kitchen knives and dull butter knives. I told her that I used to ask my host family for a knife when we ate meat, but had quickly fallen out of the habit. She asked me, now, when you eat dinner at home by yourself, do you use a knife? I paused a moment, started laughing, and answered, no. Laughing again, she said, You are like us.
Besides pointing out the bizarre daily habits I’ve acquired, my parents and Nate were also able to show me all the great things that happen in my life here. Watching them interact with my adopted families and friends, re-experiencing the great abundance of Azerbaijani hospitality, and witnessing the expressions of appreciation from both sides were incredibly rejuvenating. It was a great culmination of both of my worlds and I’m so happy to have had both of them meet the other. Of course, it could have just as easily gone the other way. I know of PCVs who’ve had visitors who pointed out all the negative things in this country; things that we have let slide over time. But this wasn’t the case. It was a great visit filled with numerous cups of Ceylon tea, pastries and sweets galore, courageous and accommodating taxi drivers leading us through the desert, plov, plov, plov, mayonnaise salads, broken toilets, fumbled translations, and fantastic company. Now, all I can hope for, is for part of my world here to experience part of my world over there. That being said, all I can say is, please send good luck over to my counterpart. She deserves every bit of what she is currently working for.
**To be very fair indeed, my mother did an exceptional job roughing it PCV style. She flushed down her own poop all by herself, ate lamb, didn’t get sick, rode the night train which is not the easiest thing to do, and kissed dirty bazaar women. You did very well Mama. So here’s to you: Kudos!
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