There’s something about living in Azerbaijan; I always feel that I am living and seeing life in all of its glory.  Sometimes I feel it when I see yet another car loaded full to the brim with apples or sheep riding in the back seat of car.  (I saw both of these today.)  Needless to say, if you are willing to look around and take part in life, living here is never dull...

The word on the AZ street is that the cheapest stuff can be found at the bazar near the Baku airport.  I and a friend of mine wanted to go see this bazar and hopefully purchase coats and other items.  Yesterday, I asked my mom if she would take us and she agreed to take us next week.  Apparently this information was mentioned to my dad and it was agreed, instead, that he would take us today. 

Now, yesterday evening I was told that my hostdad, hostma, me, my friend, and a friend of my hostmom who knows the bazar well would go.  It was also explained to me that my host brothers were not to be told as they would want to go, but then would not want to shop.  Ok. We agree to leave around 8. 

The next morning, my hostdad gets up, says he’s going off to work, and leaves.  I get up, eat breakfast and wait for my hostmom to get ready.  She comes into the kitchen, still in her robe, and asks why I am not hurrying.  Confused, I mention that she is still in her robe. She explains that she’s not going and that my hostdad is waiting for me at the end of the street.  Huh?  Still confused, I quickly text my friend alerting her of our immediate departure, grab my stuff, run out the door, and down the street to the waiting car. 

In the car is my hostdad, his brother-in-law (my hostuncle) and his daughter who’s 16 years old (my host cousin). Slightly different group of people than I originally thought was going.  We then go to pick up my friend. 

A little over an hour later we arrive at the bazar.  It has been raining and so the ground is quite muddy.  The bazar reminds me a bit of the exhibit halls at fairs (e.g. Puyallup) where there are hundreds of booths selling things. 

First, my hostdad takes us to a store that is owned by relatives.  While the store has coats, they are all leather and fur.  Neither myself nor my friend are interested in these type of coats.  After several awkward minutes we excuse ourselves from the store and move on. 

Now excuse the gender stereotype here, but shopping with your own father is often an interesting experience.  Most guys want in and out of the store as quickly as possible.  Now add to this gender stereotype two fathers, a different culture, and three languages (Azeri, English, Russian). 

Imagine the fun and confusion we had.

We went into several booths/stores to look for coats.  The coats we liked did not come in our sizes.  The store owners wanted us to try on other coats that were in our size, but we did not like them.  At various times both men where holding our coats, purses, scarves, etc. while we tried on coats.   

Finally, we found a store that at least had a small selection of reasonably looking coats for women with some curves.  We spent some time deciding on the right size and color.  Then we negotiated a price.  Through all of this my host dad managed to find patience.  I think his eagerness to help his american daughter and her friend outweighed his desire to get out quick, although I could tell it was against his grain. ;)

After agreeing on a price, we were asked to sit down for some tea while the coats were whisked away to be ironed.  After about 15 minutes the coats reappeared, we paid, and left. 

We spent the next several hours searching out shoes and sweaters for my brothers, slippers for the house, a hat and scarf to match my coat, Azeri turtlenecks, shoes for my hostcousin, etc.  Finally, we returned to the car and made are way through the rain-created lakes and rivers that made up the bazar parking lot.  However, we were not done. 

Apparently, my hostmom had instructed my hostdad to return with a rug (room-size).  We stopped off at rug-lane.  An entire lane of nothing but booths filled with hanging, rolled, and stretched out rugs.  It was suggested that we stay in the car.  We passed the time by having my host cousin teach us the body parts in Azerbaijani.  We then tried to sing “head, shoulders, knees, and toes,” with our newly learned words.  Again very funny!

After some time the two men returned carrying a rug that was placed in the trunk and off we went down the road towards home. 

Of course upon returning home our secret was out, my brothers knew that we had gone shopping.  My hostdad had hoped that the new things would smooth things over.  For my older brother this was true.  He seemed unmoved by the fact that he was left out of the shopping excursion and was excited about the new clothes.  My little brother was a different matter.  After several minutes of angered pouting and words, he finally came to the table where the rest of us were enjoying a warm lunch.  Still acting upset, he refused all food.  This behavior went on for a bit until someone made a joke.  My little brother tried hard not to laugh but with a little extra encouragement from me, he finally smiled and all was well. 

All in all a great day...