The End...

I meant to write this when I was still in Azerbaijan, but time got away from me.

The last month or so flew by. Between finishing up work, celebrating Thanksgiving with fellow PCVs in Baku and saying goodbye, I barely had time to pack! I tried to spread the goodbyes out, but it was hard to do when I knew that I would see the person again before I left.

A couple weeks before I left I had a big goodbye party with the teenage girls that I worked with. There was a day of food preparation where some of the girls came to help, then the following day even more came (18 at one point) for food, company & dancing (I can't seem to have any girls over without a dance party). I think at that point the reality of leaving started to sink in. I know, it seems odd, but it really hadn't before (even though reports had been written and I'd started applying to jobs in the States). So after that the packing began in earnest, I was eating at friends' houses all the time as goodbye meals, and my belongings were being given away. It's amazing how much PCVs can accumulate in two years!

Leaving was bittersweet. It's definitely different leaving the country I served than it was leaving the United States in 2008. When I left America I knew that I most likely would be returning in just over two years, extraordinary events notwithstanding. But I don't have any dates like that for Azerbaijan. I would like to return at some point (to visit), but beyond that it's kind of up in the air. Locals would ask me if/when I was returning and the best answer I could give was "Inshallah (God willing)." Although in Azerbaijan it's a much more accepted answer than it would be here in America.

Right now, being in America, it still hasn't quite sunk in - it still feels a little like a vacation. So hopefully I'll write at least once more, once I'm a bit more removed from my service and have more perspective (now I'm just happy for the daily shower and washer/dryer).


I'll leave you with a little anecdote that happened during the last couple weeks of my service:
Getting ready to leave my house one afternoon I heard a knock on a gate - maybe mine, maybe my neighbor's. I didn't answer because I was on my way out. So when I left I saw a salesperson in my street (a woman, selling household products) and I greeted her (I think at first she thought I was answering the door). Instead of asking the typical questions - Where are you from? Why are you here? - she asked me to call my mother to the door! Now for those of you who know me, you know that I hate that I look younger than my age. So normally, that would have been my first thought: What?! How young do you think I am?! I haven't lived with my mother in 12 years! But no, my first thought was that she'd asked me a normal question that she'd ask any local Azeri, with no thought/mention of me being a foreigner. Yay! (Too bad I'm leaving in two weeks).