I asked my parents to be guest speakers on my blog to provide another point of view and a fresh take of Americans' look into Azerbaijan. Below are their own words about their 10 day adventure here:
Mom’s story:
Now that we’ve actually come to Azerbaijan, I‘ve adjusted my perceptions of it. In some ways it is what I thought and other ways it’s more. I have a better understanding of what Sara is experiencing. It is a country of contradictions and growing pains.

In Zerdab where she is living there are as many chicken coops as Satellite dishes. Her sight may be the least desirable, but her teachers and students there more than compensate. They respect her and are watching over her, but they also appreciate what she is doing. Tourists do not visit Zerdab, but we were invited into their homes for celebrated meals and became quick friends. There is a lot of livestock roaming the unpaved roads and too many roosters to wake us up. You would be amazed at how Sara has adapted herself to living there.

We also went to another region, Sheki where there were mountains and more modern convinces. Like all countries, they have contrasting regions. Visiting this country and its people, seeing Sara work here makes me wish and hope that Azerbaijan leaders do everything to improve their peoples’ lives.
Dad’s story:
I would venture a guess that not many Americans have an Azerbaijan stamp on their passports. Nancy and I are now one of those few- as we had an opportunity to visit Sara at her Peace Corps site in Zerdab, Azerbaijan.

I call Sara’s Peace Corps tour “Sara’s Adventure”. Several months ago Sara asked us to visit her to better understand her experiences and, by visiting to leave a large and lasting impression with her teachers, past host family and her residence of Zerdab. For all those reasons (the primary one being to visit Sara) I told Nancy to “book the plane tickets”. Those who know Nancy know that she immediately scoured the internet, visited the Maplewood Library and went to Barnes & Noble to research everything she could on Azerbaijan. I could simply sit back and reap the benefits of her research. While Nancy was doing her research, I went to AAA to get a map of the country (they don’t have any) and to get some of the local currency (manat) from the bank or American Express (they don’t have any either).
Regardless of these facts, I don’t worry as Nancy normally does enough of that for the both of us. Besides what’s to worry about? Nancy and I are only going almost halfway around the world to visit a slowly developing Muslim country and we don’t know the language or culture and know only one person in a country of 8.5 million people.
As our trip approached (what I have labeled our ‘mini-adventure’ I, in some perverse way, am looking forward to the 4 hour bus ride from Baku (the capital) to Zerdab (Sara’s site). I imagine that the bus will be overcrowded with too many people, goats and chickens (Sara tells me that there are no goats or chickens but I am not convinced).
The “adventure day” comes and we endure/survive a 15-16 hour travel day (7 ½ hrs to London, 2 hr layover, 6 hr to Baku). Fortunately the flight to Baku is only 1/3 booked so Nancy and I have an opportunity to spread out and to sleep a bit. Thankfully, the very first face we see at the airport is Sara’s. See no worries.
First impressions of Baku:
1) black seems to be the color of choice by the locals
2) males of all ages seem to wear pointed shoes that most likely add 2-3 inches to their shoe size
3) the NYC cab drivers have absolutely nothing on the Baku taxi drivers. These guys drive within inches of the cars/buses/trucks they are following and, honk their horns as a signal, which means, “ready or not here I come” to pass-regardless if there is enough space. And pedestrians do not have the right of way in Baku-rather pedestrians are like the ducks in a boardwalk duck-shoot arcade.
The next day we get to Zerdab not by bus but by taxi. When the taxi departs I have a queasy feeling that I’m a Martian who has just landed. Sara, however, is always close at hand to give us assurances, handles all of the necessary translations and has everything well planned out for our visit.

I have no idea how old the town of Zerdab is-it could be 200 or 1000 years old. I also have no idea why anyone decided to start a town where Zerdab is located-there are few jobs, sights or any other notable features. I find myself constantly rethinking the early scene of the military outpost in the Dancing with Wolves movie and I’m playing the part of Kevin Costner.
The town is rather drab, houses are fairly plain and individual yards completely surrounded by 6’ to 8’ block walls. Chickens, geese, turkeys and a few cows (but no goats) wander aimlessly through many of the streets. (For those of you who believe that roosters only crow at sunrise-I was one of you until my visit-are misinformed-they crow about every two hours through the day and night.

Someone should capture the sound of a rooster crowing and install it into a clock because I can now attest to the fact that a rooster crowing is a very effective wake-up sound.
While dusty or muddy, depending on the weather, the streets are surprisingly clean. Fortunately Sara has moved out of her first home (the one I refer to as a ‘chicken coop’) into a newer two bedroom, 2nd floor apartment. (And, oh yeah, that little separate building out in the back yard.) During my short stay in her apartment I have now been introduced to taking a bucket bath that is exactly what it sounds like. Sara’s apartment is spacious yet functional and substantially superior to her former “chicken-coop” (a label I found to be exceptionally kind after actually seeing the first home.)

While her town may be rather plain the three families we met and dined with were not, they are all exceptionally kind and generous. While Sara provided 80-90% of the translating they all proved to have a great sense of humor. Since Nancy and I were the 2nd and 3rd Americans they have ever met they were all very curious about all things in America.
Throughout my stay with Sara the lyrics to “Hello Madda, Hello Fadda, here I am in Camp Granada” kept repeating in my mind.
I could go on and on about our trip and experience but will save those many, many stories for another time. This “short” blog entry has gone on way too long. So as we are about to return home, let me summarize: would I travel to see Sara again in Zerdab, Azerbaijan? In a heartbeat (with or without Nancy) so “book the flights” as I am again ready for another mini-adventure in an out-of-the-way place.