Monday, 9 March 2009

Babushka with plastic bags



As I am walking back from local Budgens, my shoulders aching from the weight of plastic bags, I wonder to myself - Have I ever left the Soviet times? Those old miserable “babushkas” walking down the Soviet streets with plastic bags…is that what I am slowly turning into? No matter where I live? So what I am wearing the real UGGs? Who cares? To an Azeri, they definitely look the part: any old babushka would love a pair for her trips to a local bazaar. I am sure if I wore them in Baku, my neighbours would start gossiping my foreign husband does not make enough money to buy me some decent shoes.

Here is a sketch of me walking from Budgens. Of course, this is a so called artist’s interpretation. Whether you chose to believe I really am that skinny is up to you and your trust in people.

5 comments:

  1. I like your writings. So much to relate to. Azeri mom from Chicago surburb

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  2. what not pink track suit, not very chave central ya know :P

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  3. Your sketches are beautiful. I think you are really talented. Keep it up. Just stop talking about expats pleeeeese. That "era" of Baku is so over. Lets move on;-)
    Moonlight

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  4. @Moonlight: Let's agree to disagree. I go back a lot and I know local mentality a lot better than you think I might. This blog is based on a personal view; and you are allowed to have yours, and I am- mine. I also disagree that you think I have put expats on some sort of a pedestal- far from it. I just speak the truth, and as we all know, truth hurts. And in certain cultures, truth seems to hurt an awful lot more, for some bizarre cultural reason. "Keeping face" and pretending we are the greatest nation in the world is the norm, and that is the basis for everything.

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  5. Ok let me clarify. The "expat" can be a CEO, regional director or at least an engineer but it can also be an electrician or a janitor (technically the name of the position could be different, but we are talking essence here). Expat does not always mean successful and loaded.
    So incorporating all this into one jolly term of "expat"...

    Lots of girls made that mistake and found ordinary life abroad very disappointing.

    Once those expats go back to their countries, they are back on ordinary payroll and thats the moment things get saur, lets say. These girls suddenly realize this prince on a white horse is not a prince after all.

    Who would go to a third world country for less than executive package? The adventureous type, you might say. yeah, right.

    Having said that, if a girl chooses to marry someone for their "expat"ness then she more than deserves that one bed flat in Croydon and Coronation street for desert.
    Moonlight

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