Well, it finally happened. After all of these years, I am finally getting to use my bachelor’s degree. No, I wasn’t an English major, but thanks. I studied something equally obtuse, though. I majored in Geography. From childhood on, if you gave me a map I’d be entertained for hours. I still can’t label a blank map of the world with all of the current countries, darn it, but I can teach you how to read a topographic sheet, tell you a bit about landscape formations and the pros and cons of a grid traffic system in a city. But now I landed a juicy spot on a new committee, something I’ve been wanting to do for the past year when I first heard about this project. All hail the new member of the Peace Corps Azerbaijan mapping committee.
We’re working on developing a crowdmapping tool of Peace Corps volunteers’ sites and projects within Azerbaijan. With any luck, we’ll make it into a tool of such usefulness as to encourage PC Headquarters in DC to implement it worldwide. As it applies within our country, we are beginning with volunteers creating reports online about their sites...reports about their organizations, about secondary projects they are implementing, about transportation to/from/within their towns and regions. Everything is being mapped, and everything should be available for the groups of volunteers to follow us. That way, people don’t always have to reinvent the wheel, so to speak. We can get ideas from each other. We can collaborate, share knowledge. I personally have dreams of being able to collaborate with volunteers in other countries. I mean, this could be big. When I came to live at my site, I had nothing to go on; there hadn’t been a volunteer in my region for at least five years, if ever (I’m not really sure), so I did have to start from scratch. Hopefully this new mapping tool will make my own situation less common.
At any rate, I was asked to come into Baku for a committee meeting to be held on Saturday. It’s a five-hour bus ride from my region, so this means a three-day trip. BUT, because it was official business, the Peace Corps springs for two nights at a pretty stinkin’ nice hotel, and I’ll get mostly reimbursed for travel and meal expenses in my next paycheck. This is not a bad thing. Kind of like a mini-vacation with a meeting stuck in the middle. I can deal with that.
My bus ride Friday was perhaps my most uncomfortable ride to Baku to date. Not because the woman next to me wanted to talk (she didn’t) or because it was overly hot (it wasn’t), but because the guy in front of me decided to lay his seat allllllll the way back to facilitate napping. This wouldn’t be so bad, but apparently my legs have grown several inches in length lately, because when he reclined, my knees were suddenly crunched right into the back of his seat. I do admit I yelped a little and took a certain religious figure’s name in vain, but it didn’t change anything except maybe make me feel a micron better and startle the woman next to me who had been industriously attempting to fade into the landscape beyond the window. Knees now rendered immobile and with a seat back about eight inches from my nose, I just concentrated on breathing and not panicking with the occasional ripples of claustrophobia. At least I had a slight breeze from my air vent. Until he reached up and snapped it closed, that is. That’s okay. I reached up and snapped it right back open. Cut of MY air, will ya?! I think not!
I arrived in Baku a wee bit grumpy, I guess you might say. I went out in front of the bus station to wait for a city bus. It was windy and I waited. And waited. After about 20 minutes the bus I needed still hadn’t come and I was worried about getting to the office before everyone left for the day, so I jumped on the next one which would take me close, to Chirag Plaza. Now I would just need to (successfully) negotiate the nightmare which is traffic in the intersection in front of Chirag Plaza, an intersection affectionately referred to by volunteers as The Circle of Death. The Circle of Death involves four lanes (in each direction) of weaving traffic barreling down the road pretty much nonstop. The trick is to be strategic and stealthy and ultimately light on your feet, keeping in mind that, in Azerbaijan, pedestrians most certainly do not have the right-of-way. Ever. Oh, you can be bold and pretend you own the road, but more than one volunteer has had a near-death experience crossing this intersection. The Circle of Death is not to be taken lightly. Sacrifices are sometimes necessary. (Note for the picky: in the photo below of TCoD, you might be inclined to point out that there are only three lanes in each direction. You would be wrong. Baku drivers don't pay any attention to lane markings.)
I made it, alive, to the Peace Corps office and was delighted to find several other volunteers in the lounge. Greetings and hugs dispensed all around, I discovered a secret friend had left a pack of Oreos in my cubbie (!!!!), which I immediately offered to share. I was urged, in turn, to partake of an open bag of popcorn (“it’s cheesy!”), and settled down into what developed into a lively, bawdy discussion of questionable suitability. (There are times where being the oldest volunteer in the room allows me to just shock the pants off of my colleagues, prompting them to view me in a new light.) It was awesome.
Ah, Baku. City of insane traffic, packed buses, grilled ham and cheese sandwiches, alcohol, nightlife and firm, clean beds. And hot showers where both hands are free.
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