In approximately 56 hours, I’ll be flying home. Home sweet home. I can’t wait.
It’s feeling a little like the last few kilometres of a race: I am so ready to be done, and I can’t really remember too much about the start.
At home, one of my favourite things to do with the kids is to play “apples and oranges” over dinner. Or highlights and lowlights. We try to do this daily, when we remember. It’s applicable to my time here, I think.
So, herewith, are my apples and oranges from my time in Baku. In no particular order, some small, some big. I won’t assign a high or low, I’ll let you infer.
**
The weather. One day it’s humid, hot and sundress weather. The next I’m in 3 layers + a down jacket.
And the wind. Oh lord, the wind.
**
Our soviet-era dwelling, complete with faint smell of sewage and a stairwell that can only be compared so something from the set of “Lost”.
**
The constant, never ending, for no apparent reason, fucking honking.
**
Runs through narrow backstreets, dodging cars and stares, laundry, stray cats, random holes in the sidewalks, aiming to get lost, zigzagging my way through the old architecture mixed with new construction.
**
Re-connecting with some wonderful people. Meeting new ones who will remain friends. This month would have been vastly different without them.
**
Working through a language barrier that, at times, felt insurmountable. Never in my life have I used more hand gestures, scribbles and Google translate to muddle through both my day to day and my job.
My unique brand of Canadian humour didn’t always fly here.
**
I never thought I’d say this, but I’m kind of sick of walking. I rarely get in vehicles here, walking just seems less complicated.
**
I want: fresh vegetables. Fruit that isn’t mealy. A giant salad. A grocery store I can make sense of. My regular, happy little comfy staples. I’m kind of done with rice cakes.
**
Why does construction have to go on all night here?
**
I’m quite surprised I haven’t taken up smoking. Or spitting on streets, for that matter.
**
Oh, to be in my bed, my glorious bed. In which I do not feel springs.
**
I miss nature. And green space that isn’t man-made. That I’m allowed to walk on.
**
Pantyhose. Nylons. Tights. Whatever you want to call them, it’s a wardrobe staple here, no matter the footwear. For that reason alone, I could never live here.
**
Constant noise. The quietest place I’ve found has been underwater.
**
I’m amazed that I’ve only witnessed 1 car accident. The drivers here are terrifying, and those are the good ones. I look back and can’t believe I considered bringing a bike #nochance
**
It’s been an experience here, no question. But it’s time for this homesick Canadian return to her people, and plan the next adventure. Maybe somewhere I speak the language.
The SMO's stories 