You know you’re an Azerbaijani when…

Your mother gets mad at you for getting sick

Drinking tea isn’t a choice, it’s a life style

You feel at home when you see people with gold teeth

You stop everything you were doing when you hear someone mention Azerbaijan

 You spent over 100 dollars on a phone number that “looks cool”

You spent more on a license plate number than you do on your car

  

You spend 30 minutes explaining to your foreign friends how to pronounce Azerbaijan correctly

Pictures of you are only taken from a professional camera and a "very" professional photographer

You secretly miss the voice screaming outside your window “XLOR VAR XLOR!”

You can eat pomegranate in an unlimited amount and never have enough

∆ Huge Thank You to the “Azerbaijani Students Studying Abroad” Facebook Group for ideas!

Homeless,

- Where are you from?

- Azerbaijan

- Oh, and your home is here in Puerto Rico?

- No, I'm homeless

Sometimes when I really think about it, I can't find an answer to the question "Where is your home?" The tension between that question and I becomes too tense and so tight that I break down. Before answering anything, I define the word "home" and what it truly means. To me, a home is somewhere where you can somehow connect memories to, visit the place and automatically feel comfortable, and just get that feeling. The problem is that Azerbaijan, Canada and Puerto Rico somehow connect my memories with itself and I feel somewhat comfortable in all three countries, and in neither of them do I get that feeling.

It's hard to somehow consider yourself homeless because you do want to have that home feeling and to know for a fact there's a place on Earth where you truly belong. In Azerbaijan, I feel more of an American-Canadian because I do look at things in a different way that may seem strange. I believe in self-protection in which I will comment back with a rude phrase if someone bothers me, in which not a lot of young girls do. I don't want to find that rich guy to get married - I'd rather be happy and get rich myself. I mean, there are so many social ideas and standards that I just find too conceded and too tense for my life, but that doesn't mean I don't respect my nation. I love going to Azerbaijan and knowing that I can talk in the language I was brought up talking, the mentality I was brought up to have, and the culture I was brought up to follow. It's a place close to heart, yet so strange.

In Canada, I feel more of an immigrant in which makes it much easier because most people living in Canada are immigrants and do know what the other is going through. Canada is a little bit of both worlds, having so many Azerbaijanis living there yet having that American lifestyle. Canada was indeed a place where I grew up hating myself - constant bullying, harassment, and trying to fit in. I remember how the kids made fun of me because I didn't wear the recent sweater from American Eagle or Hollister, calling me "The Second Hand" girl - yep, that's me! I really didn't want to spend fifty dollars on a sweater with a horrible fabric, my mother taught me better. Nevertheless, living in a place for six years, you tend to somehow make it a place you know and relate to. A place where you can connect again and find yourself all over again.

In Puerto Rico, it's a whole different story. I went to a private school with uniforms in which girls would shorten their skirts to look hotter or if you didn't roll up the sleeves of your white shirt a few times, you'd be a loser. The Nixon watch was a must have for you to be considered a non-gringo (not an American). Puerto Rico is a very patriotic territory even though it is part of the States. It's a bitter sweet feeling living on the island - you feel like a stranger yet you feel home. The Puerto Ricans do remind me a lot of Azerbaijanis - patriotic, fun, family-bonded, loud and energetic. Speaking English on this island won't help you much other than get you some weird looks and someone saying "Ay! Que Gringo!" (What an American, Gosh!) - patriotism.

Even though being patriotic is a good thing, I sometimes tend to be proud of the three countries at once. I stand up for all three when something is discussed and let's be honest, if I didn't move to Canada nor Puerto Rico, I wouldn't be a successful polyglot now, wouldn't I? Being homeless somehow makes you unique and one of a kind. I might be homeless but I'm wealthy with knowledge and a mindset. 

Something personal

There’s a huge difference between having friends that are in the same country as you and having friends that are on the other side of the world. There’s also a difference between having friends that are from the same nation as you are and those who aren’t.  These differences might not really have such an effect on people but to someone like me, it’s a huge deal. Let’s elaborate.

I live on an island where there’s nearly no immigrants, mostly Puerto Rican. There’s no Azerbaijani living here other than my parents and a few elderly people. Puerto Ricans don’t understand that a girl shouldn’t be out after 12 or 1 at night, shouldn’t go out a lot, and “asking your parents” for permission simply isn’t an option because you already know the answer.  All you want is someone to go to the city with and relax and have a coffee, someone to sit down and enjoy the evening drinking tea with lemon. Someone who understands Azerbaijani cuisine and enjoys samovar tea. You want someone who can somehow understand your frustration when you talk about personal problems without having comments like “But they’re in Azerbaijan! Get over it!” – you can’t get over it, because even though your friend is in Azerbaijan and you’re farther away, you still care. You care a lot.

I know I’ve lived far from Azerbaijan for too long to even fit in there, but the feeling I got from when I was in Azerbaijan this summer was speechless. I was speechless of constant calls and text messaging, wondering how I was and what I’ll be doing later on that evening. I was speechless of having a place to go other than my own home like to my aunt’s or granddad’s place. I felt like the city I was born in was finally enjoying my presence or better yet, I was enjoying its presence.

You know it’s perfection when your best friend calls you and tells you she needs to talk to you and you have to meet her outside in somewhat minutes, other than “get on Skype!”  I felt like the people surrounding me that summer, could be the people I might love and care about for the rest of my life.

I know that most of the attention or love shown was because I haven’t seen them in a while and it’s all temporary, but seeing my friends in person is good enough for me than seeing them on Skype or seeing constant statuses and check-ins on the social sites.

I’m thankful for my Azerbaijani friends who live not only in Azerbaijan, but in other parts of the world too. You all make me somehow less lonely and less alone, even though it is hard. I’m not saying that I have no friends in Puerto Rico, but I am saying that I have no soul mates here.

Thanks for being my friends and family. Even though it doesn’t mean a lot, it means a ton to me. Might be too dramatized, but I do feel somehow happy with all of you in my life. 

Faded Love

All I can read about on the internet or hear in every song is how people are either happy about love or how someone broke their heart. I got to admit, it's a good topic to talk about - all can somehow relate. I began reading different stories of how couples have met or what really got them attracted to their "the one", and it got me thinking. Love in Azerbaijan. When I started thinking about it, a couple of main topics came to mind: physical love, emotional love, and financial love. Don't get me wrong, these topics are concentrated everywhere but somehow the 'financial' love is a little more concentrated in Azerbaijan, in my opinion.

Physical love is mostly for the people in Azerbaijan who fall in love with the physical appearance. Some like the Caucasian look (I speak of men) - black hair, muscular, strong, strict while some like the European look - lighter skin, relaxed, more layed back. There are many types, don't get me wrong, but since we live in a Caucasian country, our men and women are of the Caucasian look. Women fall in love with men who are look like the physical version of a "well payed gentleman", to some maybe to feel safe or have that image - for the society. Factors like the clothes he/she wears, the cars they drive, what stores they shop at - all is physical. Which takes us to financial love, since without money, your physical image might lack also. But before we get to financial, let's talk emotional.

Emotional love is when you're attracted to the person on an emotional level. You love the way they laugh, make conversation, the way they think - intelligence. Isn't that what truly love is? An emotional connection, feeling dependent of the other. I mean, we don't think about anything except that person. No money, no image is associated with love, in this case. We love because we feel, not because we see. Nothing is fake, all is pure. Pure love - or is it?

When I was in Baku, I heard a lot about the financial love more than I did about the Eurovision that was hosted in Baku (it was a big deal!) I mean, the topic of finding the one is much more interesting than anything political, economical, or social happening in the country. Financial love is when you fall for the person because of money. Questions like how much they make, who the parent's are and if they're rich, what type of car they drive, how may apartments they own and where. We call this life, ladies and gentlemen. Women try to talk to men who have some sort of a future, they say. By these standards, men who don't have their money given to them yet, are not set for their future - what happened to progress? Success?

I'm not blaming women completely, because men have also began to start the trend with the financial love. They start wondering if the girl's family is rich enough and if they can support and help out. I mean, I understand in the world we're living at the moment, having enough money to support one self is quite important, but what happened to the true meaning of love? Connection between two people? 

Does love still exist in the world today? 

My parents' were lucky to find true love, I'm sure yours did too. But what about us?

What about love?

Time Travelling to Childhood

My life became somewhat blurry with constant questions in my head after a recent trip to the country I was born in – Azerbaijan. It’s been three years since I've visited, but for some odd reason, this time was different. This time I had the freedom to see the city by my own eyes, touch the nature by my own fingers, and smell the odor of the Caspian Sea while taking an evening walk in the Boulevard.

Childhood was over for me when I moved from Baku at the age of nine. I let go of my relatives, my school, my house, my city – my country. I left at such a young age that when thinking about where my home was, I couldn't answer myself until this summer. My trip was scheduled for the end of May until mid-July. From wedding organizations to relative visits, I felt comfortable. I found myself enjoying the language spoken around me, enjoying the city view in person rather than by pictures, and finding the answers to my unanswered questions.

The Akhundov Park located right beside my house. The
park that witnessed me grow up.

Unlike others who moved away at such an early stage of their lives, I still remembered the streets that I walked on, the language I heard and talked, the culture I lived by. I know, no matter where I move to, I’d always have that hole in my heart. That hole or the unfilled space, however you want to call it. I don’t want to call myself unhappy because I’m not, but I sure was happier when I visited Baku.

I had that feeling of warmth tingle all over my body because everywhere that I went to, I could remember a childhood connection somehow. Even though I haven’t visited myself and haven’t walked the city streets independently, I knew how to get to any place I wanted to. The constant memories swirled inside my head. I went time travelling back to childhood.

The Maiden Tower in the Old City, "Icheri Sheher"

I want the beauty in almost anything I saw in the city. People living outside of a country, tend to see the things not everyone sees every day. Not everyone could feel the feeling of home because they never were apart. The furniture in my house brought warmness, from the bed I used to sleep in when I was a kid to the kitchen sofa. I remember how my father called one evening and brought the sofa specifically for the kitchen. How he would take my plush dog toy and use it as a pillow and watch T.V. by lying down on that sofa.  I sat on that sofa every morning before school to quickly memorize the poems written by the famous Russian author, Pushkin. Memories...

This was the first time my parents gave me the freedom to hang around Baku by myself or with my friends. I didn't feel stranded by the sidelines of my parents, I had the opportunity to live and breathe. I felt home and I knew no one could say anything about it.

Where is my home? My home is where I feel comfortable and not feel like an immigrant. At the moment, that’s Azerbaijan. I know that every time I’ll go for a visit, I’d have some kind of a soul cleansing process or maybe just another shot at time travelling, who knows?

Are You Made In China?

If we look up the definition of a patriot on Google, we can find the following:  A person who vigorously supports their country and is prepared to defend it against enemies or detractors. In other words, an individual that loves their country and defends it against the bad guys, or an individual which informs the surroundings about that country, tries to be active and it all truly comes from the heart.. or does it? 

Since I'm an Azerbaijani living abroad, as I've written before, I miss home. This causes me to inform my surroundings of where my home is - Azerbaijan. I began making informative videos, began reading into the history of Azerbaijan, began to be more glued to the culture that all I wanted and still want is to get more information. In addition, being so active in such a field, other Azerbaijani activists or patriots tend to connect with you, somehow. You either meet in meetings, forums, online by Facebook, through a friend, etc.

I began being more active on Facebook, just to see what other active patriots were doing. I began checking my news feed daily, reading the news more often but as I did those things, I began to realize that the word "patriotic" has lost it's meaning. We hear that word used to describe many youth living outside of their home, but is that word used to shine that individual or is it used to make that individual feel proud? In my opinion, not all we meet today that we call "patriotic" are one - some are fake. They're made in China.

In my opinion, a patriotic individual needs to be active - both socially and informatively, online and in reality. From doing different informative videos to joining a strike, from making a simple slide show to simply getting mad when they mispronounce the name of the country and you spend half an hour summarizing the history. That's a patriot. A patriot's eye shines when someone speaks of one's country, not when they say "Can we take an interview which will be published in the local newspaper?" "Oh, and let me add, your picture will be added also." - well isn't that nice, a popularity stunt. 

Let's be honest, who doesn't want to be popular? Rich and famous, living life like a luxury but is using the fake love for your country a cheap way of getting popular? Youth nowadays tend to go with the crowd, do as they have been told, but in reality, life doesn't have enough patience to deal with those kind of people. In reality, the truth comes out faster than the speed of light. (I'm exaggerating!)

What I noticed lately is how the youth tends to be so proud when their picture and interview has been published at some newspaper, they share it everywhere - Twitter, Facebook, Google, you name it - it's there. Unfortunately, if we compare the amount of energy used on sharing your interview to the amount of energy used to spread an informative video about Khojaly, for instance, the interview will have a huge head start. But, why?

Can we call ourselves egoistic or do I just have to understand that life's not full of chocolates, and that one man is for himself? I just would love to see some sincerity, which I'm beginning to see less and less of. If you're a patriot, be one - but please, respect the country. Don't use it to rise your status, use it to figure your status out.

That is all for today. If you're interviewed and have your photo used (woah!) give yourself a huge pat on the back, you're going to be a billionaire.


Just kidding, you're just made in China.

My Home Away From Home

My ASAIF badge

Recently I came back from one of the best trips of my life, I went to Rome. Rome, Italy. Italy – the country of wine, pasta, and just handsome men walking around the city but let’s be honest, I didn’t drink wine, the pasta I ate was horrible, and I didn’t see handsome men (only a few – ah Italianos!), but that’s not what this whole thing is about. I flew there for the ASAIF Rome Forum. ASAIF – Azerbaijani Students and Alumni International Forum, is pretty much a forum or a conference held yearly for Azerbaijani students living or studying abroad. The conference consists of different panels talking about different topics such as the Khojaly Genocide and how active our youth should be, or the Karabakh situation happening at the moment, which I should clarify is Azerbaijani land.

As an Azerbaijani youth, I got accepted to go and attend. So, I went emergency warm clothes shopping, since I live in Puerto Rico and the weather here really doesn't need coats, boots, and scarves, I was in need of major shopping time. I got my bag ready and off I went. I flew a long flight having to transit at two different places but I got there. I got there getting notified that Rome already wants to bankrupt me. Let me add that Rome is really expensive,  having to pay 80 euros (divided into two) to get to my hotel.

Ah, the hotel. A smile rises on my face as I remember my first views and thoughts when I got off the taxi. I see Azerbaijani men standing outside, all in black and smoking a cigarette. I thought to myself “I’m home.” I had this feeling of familiarity and love even though I've never seen or talked to the people I saw in front of me. I enter the hotel and hear familiar words, warm yet so distant – the Azerbaijani language and the Russian language, and every phrase ending with “da” having it extended, ah the Baku accent – how I missed you. I knew I was in the right hotel, and I turn to a friend of mine who came with me and I tell her “Jeyla, we’re in Baku, the second version!” – we share a giggle and go to the registration desk.

This whole trip was a pleasure, not because I went there to talk about politics and get into serious discussions, no, but I went there to feel like home since I haven’t been in Azerbaijan for two years, and I haven’t lived there for about 10 years, and living in Puerto Rico where there are no other Azerbaijanis other than my family, doesn't really make anything easier. I missed the language, the looks, the talks, the accent, the culture. I missed home.

Every girl needs to throw a coin into
the Trevi Fountain and make
a wish

I remember how on one of the panels, I had the opportunity to stand up in front of hundreds and ask a question. Before the question was supposed to be spoken, we had to introduce ourselves, so I get the microphone and say “I’m Leyla Javadova, I study and live in Puerto Rico” and suddenly I feel heads suddenly turn around and stare at me. I was an extinct animal. The animal from Puerto Rico. How did an Azerbaijani get there? I felt special, really special. I had so many people come up to me after that, I really wanted to get a notepad and say “Want an autograph?” but I didn’t, I’m too nice and shy – pfft, as if.

I started to socialize, realizing that there are so many Azerbaijanis living all around the world from Netherlands, France, Canada, Switzerland to China, Korea, Moldavia, Poland (and Puerto Rico). I mean, there are tons and we’re spread out! Socializing meant either standing around and making small talk or sitting in a circle playing Mafia or other games, sharing a laugh and just having a blast. These games were played until the early morning until one of us realized what time it was and we had a few more hours before we had to get ready for the conference. 

The people that I follow or followed me on Twitter or have me on Facebook finally stood in front of me, smiling. Friends. I made Azerbaijani friends, who as soon as the trip ended, all added me on Facebook, asked how I got home, asked for my number, called me – I mean, I felt a nice connection. Wouldn't it be nice if we all went somewhere - together? We all want that “home” feeling back. The feeling which was missing for such a long time. That feeling of knowing where you’re from and understanding each other with no difficulty.

I can call them friends, but I can also call them my brothers and sisters, all beautiful inside and out.

Hope to see you soon, family! 

This is our “Once Upon A Time” story.

xo, Leyla

Our first trip to the city. Rome, Italy

Let's Unite!

February 26, 1992 is a date of sorrow and lost for the Azerbaijani people. The day when the armed Armenian forces instigated the capture of the Khojaly city in Azerbaijan. They captured the city with the support of hard equipment and the personnel of the infantry guards regiment No. #366 of the former Soviet Union. The firing actually began on the evening of February 25^th and continued until the next day, having the whole city on fire by five o’clock in the morning. People were forced to leave their houses and watch their families suffer and die right in front of their own eyes. As a result , 613 people were killed among them 63 children, 106 women, and 70 elders. By the collected data, we know that 8 families were completely killed, 25 children lost both of their parents, 130 children lost one of the parents, 487 people were wounded including 76 children, 1275 people were held hostages and 150 people went missing that day.

On February 26^th 2013, the Azerbaijani population living in the States and their friends will be remembering the 21^st anniversary of one of the most horrible events in the 1990s – the Khojaly Massacre. The massacre is known to be the biggest war crime in the USSR in the late 20^th century. Such horrible action has been acknowledged and “high fived” by the Armenian president – but should people be happy that so many people have gone missing or have lost a loved one?

On January 26, 2013 a petition was made on the official website of the US White House, asking for the recognition of the Khojaly Massacre and its victims.  For the petition to be looked over by the White House, the petition must have at least 100,000 signatures until February 25.

Now my rant starts here.

There are about 1,014,380 registered Facebook accounts on Facebook and 91.08% of them are active. It’s been almost two weeks, of people constantly sharing the link on Facebook and talking about it all day, but the collection of signatures rises super slow – why? If there about 920,000 active users on Facebook, I’m sure it shouldn’t be a problem to collect 100,000! What shocks me the most is how the Azerbaijani people tend to not care about issues like the petition or the strikes to improve the governmental status, but when it comes to collecting likes on a picture, people go wild and do whatever to collect likes! People beat their chests saying they are patriots but I’ve been proven wrong – it’s all talk. Why not show some kind of unity of the people and work together? Why can’t we just collect the likes and for once be proud of one another without some kind of conflict rising in between us? It would be a pity and such a disappointment for me to not have reach 100,000 signatures in time. It would be embarrassing, actually.

To all the Azerbaijanis living on Earth, I ask you the following:

•  Go to: https://petitions.whitehouse.gov/petition/issue-proclamation-commemorating-and-recognizing-war-crime-khojaly-massacre-and-its-victims/W8BbDqYx
•  If you already have a White House account, press “Sign In” if not, then click “Create an Account” and simply fill in the asked (you can leave the postal code in blank, if you wish)
• Sign and Share!

For once, let’s unite and do something positive together! Let’s sign this petition, let’s share it and send it to everyone, and keep fighting for what’s right.

Let all the killed rest in peace – you are remembered.

Allah Rehmet Elesin!