Renting in the AZ...

So, I moved into my apartment in March, thrilled that I had my own home. Now, when you rent in Azerbaijan, you don't pay a security deposit or sign any silly leases. You just pay the first month's rent and move in. At any point, you can move out, or the landlord can ask you to leave. But, I was confident (well, really, REALLY hopeful) that I wouldn't encounter anything like that. I was quite happy to believe that I had just settled in to my home for the next year and a half. Silly, silly Jane.

One morning, after I had been here for about a month, Ruhangiz – my counterpart who helped me find this apartment – called and asked if I would be at home that evening – she had something to tell me about my apartment. “But, don't worry,” she said. “It is not bad.” Cool. No problem.

So, she came over, we chatted for a few minutes. In true Azer style, I offered her some tea. Then, she told me her news. My landlady's son was coming from Russia for the months of June and July for his daughter to get married. Ok. Sounds neat. (Sidenote, the daughter getting married is 15 years old. She and her fiance have only met on the internet. And that is not too far off from the usual way of marriages here.) Then she drops the bombshell - that means that I will have to live somewhere else for those 2 months. WHAT?!?!?!?!? Not neat. Definitely not cool. Definitely a problem.

Needless to say, I kinda freaked out. I liked my apartment. I did NOT want to move. I absolutely did not want to go through the ordeal of trying to find a place again. How did they not know this a month ago – and why didn't they tell me? This is SO not fair. My counterpart tried to help, she even suggested a couple of solutions – live with one of my friends for those months or go to Baku for the time. Lovely – except that both would get me kicked out of the Peace Corps. When I told her that, she suggested I just don't tell them. Ok-aay. I'm kind of not a fan of lying to my employers – and the concept of getting caught was way scarier than, say, calling in sick when I wasn't really. So, after some thought, I decided not to take her advice and resigned myself to start looking for a new place to live. Ugh. Crap. Yuck. Unfair. And again, crap.

The next day, my counterpart agreed to go to see the real estate agent that found this apartment after school. Let the hunt begin. On the plus side, at least I had a month to find a new place. About the time I expected to hear from Ruhangiz, my phone rang. It was my landlady. Hmmm. Now, my azeri isn't great. And it is even worse on the phone. Normally she only calls me to see if I got water or to invite me to her house or to come over to mine. Those conversations I have learned the pattern of and fair pretty well in. This time, I only understood half of what she was saying - “Jane, getma (don't go).” “Qal (stay).” During the call, I had no idea what “qal” was – I looked it up in the dictionary after I got off the phone. I kinda thought she was telling me there was a problem with the water. Then I thought I was supposed to go to her house. I really just had no idea what was going on. I kept telling her I didn't understand. Finally, I think a bit exasperated, she told me that Ruhangiz was coming to my apartment.

I hung up, and almost immediately there was a knock on my door. My counterpart, out of breath from my 4 flights of soviet steps, was here. She told me that now I DON'T have to move out. I can stay until I leave in 2009. I was, of course, thrilled, but skeptical. How could things have changed over night? Not wanting to believe it, I asked what happened. The explanation – I am a yaxsi qiz (good girl) so the son found another place to stay while his family is here. All I can say is, thank god for being a yaxsi qiz.

I can honestly say, that 24 hours is probably the most stressed out I've been here. Panicked, angry, worried. Not a fun experience, but I survived, and now, it makes a pretty darn good story!