Some Parting Shots

It's a beautiful sunny day here in Baku. The temperature is in the low teens and there isn't any wind. A perfect day for picture taking, but John and Ali are too busy right now to go out wandering. I am hoping they get here at least a couple of hours before the sun goes down, I've been waiting for a day like this to get some pictures I've been thinking about for a long time.

In the meantime, I'll post some pix I took over the past couple of weeks...nothing spectacular, just a few random shots taken on the way to somewhere.

These are the puppies that belong to our landlord. Their mother is White Dog....we used to call her the mangy cur but she turned out to be a very nice dog and mangy cur didn't seem to fit anymore.


These pups, one male and two females, are the remains of a litter of five that were born at the end of November. Sometimes they live in the courtyard next door but more often than not, they live on our road. The older kids, on the street, take bags of garbage out of our bin and set them in the gutter so the pups (and probably the rest of the neighborhood's dogs) can find a meal.

I think they are darn cute puppies, these wily little rascals, and I wish the landlord would find homes for them.


Lots of good eats to come this weekend, gang. We're moving and I've got a freezer half full of beef.

So long Citi Mart....home of imported groceries in Baku.


I hope you get the pancake mix back in again soon. I'm sure others miss it like we did. You can charge twelve bucks for the box, if ten wasn't enough....just please get the Aunt Jemimah back on the shelves for the ones we leave behind.


This is the human parking meter moving his marker out of the way, so Ali can park in front of the store. He saves the spots and loads the groceries into the car....for the equivalent of 50 cents. Just down the street you can see the Unibank ATM. Here, John performs his weekly ritual before we get groceries. If you overdraw it doubles as a guillotine.


In Baku, he has become the one who handles the money because my legs can't get my get me up on that ledge with a shred of dignity intact.

A few shots from Fountain Square.


The cute little FOTO monkey.


McDonald's in the background.


Walking to Hong Kong Store on Easter Sunday......I call this one "A Whole Bunch of Guys & Some White Chick".


And Easter Colors...


The nicely refurbished literature museum.


The not so nice Airport bazaar, much of which closed this week. We went last Saturday for our quarterly allotment of concentrated car exhaust. Shame on me for wimping/choking out after only a few blocks and one purchase. No pashminas for me!


But I can haz chicken food...not only all week but it looks like all night, too.


And last but not least Kenai's favorite store. Ahmed's Soccer Ball and Other Odds & Ends Emporium.


He so happy, he's starting to look like a Great Dane already!

The Final Countdown

Today the packers came. I think there were 6 of them, plus 1 boss, and 1 girl to speak English....and write everything down. The truck to take our things away wasn't supposed to come until tomorrow, but it showed up around 5 o'clock and they got almost everything loaded up and out of here.


There are a few odds and ends remaining, but I was told someone would call to let me know when they'd be back for the rest.

Getting out of Azerbaijan seems like it's going to be more complicated than getting in. This is our 12th move with professional movers, and this time John chose the company that had the lowest bid of three. It wasn't the one that gave me the warmest fuzzies when the estimator showed up, that one priced in the middle (always the best choice in my opinion), but the difference was a few thousand dollars. Not all that much when you're moving a 4 bedroom house from Alaska to New Orleans....but a good percentage difference for a few boxes and no furniture....well....about 40 boxes and one tall bookcase. Anyway, it looked like it was going okay at first. I had spent the better part of the week separating our stuff from the landlord's stuff; the stuff we were going to take with us in luggage from the stuff we wanted shipped; the takeaway food from the toss away food; and the trash from everything else. I thought I was ready for this. Really.

The boss and the English speaking girl arrived first, only half an hour late which isn't bad by mover's standards. The first thing they wanted to see were the boxes of clothes that I had packed myself. Without the benefit of laundry help in Denmark, to iron every item that came out of those boxes, there was no way I was letting a bunch of guys pack our clothes....no matter "how special the clothes packing boxes" were. Our clothes arrived in Baku in the best "special clothes packing boxes" Allied could offer, and we got a gnarly wrinkled unwearable mess....abeit still on the hanger as advertised. Every single thing had to be rewashed or ironed! So none of that this time. I packed all of our clothes.

BUT...just to make sure I wasn't trying to smuggle some relic or antiquity out of the country within the folds of my Lane Bryant undies....the boss and the girl had to check my boxes, which they did, and they itemized. I began to worry. I could tell this was going to be one long painful day.


The rest of the crew showed up a half hour later...armed with boxes, paper (shredded and whole), bubble wrap, tape, string, and lunch bags. They wore natty blue coveralls, and appeared very professional and efficient. I took my tea, and false sense of security, upstairs to the family room so I could check my email, look for a cheaper North American cell phone plan, and check out the idol blogs from last night's show. I spent the next hour trying to get the internet to work.

When my tea was cold and all was well with the dial-up, I decided to venture downstairs. John had been sitting over there in his chair mumbling about going downstairs to babysit, and I figured it was probably time to put in an appearance. I think the new guy was packing the kitchen. He'd been at it for a couple of hours by this time, and he wasn't half done. He had packed up two cupboards full of the landlord's stuff in addition to the food I had set aside for us to eat this week end. When I walked into the kitchen he was putting squeeze bottles of Miracle Whip, unwrapped into a great big box with Tupperware, and pots and pans. That was my first item of extrication. Luckily he understood the universal symbol for "wrap it up".

I had to get English speaking girl to tell him he had packed some things he wasn't supposed to. It took some digging but the landlord got his pots back, and I got a large jar of Ragu Sauce, an open bag of potato chips, and a baggie with 2 days worth of Corn Flakes back. I know there is more stuff in there that should have come back out but I let it go. I can't remember what else was in there....except the tea bags and the coffee. Getting the Ragu back made me feel better.

I decided to babysit the kitchen packer until he was done. I made a fresh cup of tea (with some bags of Earl Grey which I was going to throw out, since I hate Earl Grey tea). John sat with me in the kitchen and we watched. We answered questions when asked. We found some rescued cookies and had a nibble. We watched some more, and then we watched in horror. In our 11 previous moves, the packers always spread the paper sheets on a table...like the nice handy empty table in our kitchen. If there wasn't a table nearby, they used the back of a sofa, or made a table out of boxes. For some reason, these guys thought the best place for the paper was the floor. The entire kitchen floor was thickly carpeted with sheets of paper. My first thought was that the paper was there to protect the floor from their dirty boots. Well, yes....and....no....Packing Guy was walking over the paper with his dirty boots but he was picking it up as needed to wrap my dishes, pots, cutlery, food, and probably whatever else he packed from my kitchen! At this time English speaking girl was upstairs probably rooting through my jewelry box for more Clay Aiken pins. I rolled my eyes. John chuckled. I said, "You realize we're going to have to wash all this stuff at the other end." He chuckled. I debated....ask for a complete do over? What was the point? It was already wrapped in the dirty paper. I wondered if it would be okay to double up the blood pressure pills today.

Unlike all of the other places we've lived Azerbaijan is more concerned about what you take out of the country than what you bring in. The dog came in with a smile and a wave. I bring my meat in Igloo coolers. I can't get $20 worth of American change out....or a package of Strepsils....or a first aid kit.....or AA batteries in an unopened pack.....or any of the pictures I brought into the country to hang on my walls (in hopes that I would be here long enough to actually hang them up).

My pictures were wrapped in bubble wrap but not boxed. They loaded them into the open back of a pick up along with my carpets and hauled them off to customs.


I have export certificates for the big carpets. I was told I didn't need them for the small ones.....but, they gotta check. The rule says "paintings". Not that the rule means anything....BUT....these aren't paintings. There isn't one among the lot that was worth more than a hundred bucks when I bought it. There are a couple of cross stitch pix of Eskimo girls I did in Alaska and the Mr. Incredible movie poster that Carolyn had mounted for her Dad. Those are the only two things I really care about....but honestly, why should the government care about the colored pencil drawing a kid from the orphanage drew for the craft sale? It really doesn't hurt that foreigners are interested in your products does it? I sense a hold over Soviet mentality. I also sense a money making opportunity.....for someone. The shipping estimate includes a clause that says if "permission is required for removal by the government, then the charge for getting such clearances is $200 - $300 per item. Interesting amount since I can take my own things to the Ministry of Culture and get certificates (should I need them) for $30 to $50 manat.

But the point is I don't need permissions.....in theory. We had a few conversations with the mover's office today in order to clear up some pretty simple misunderstandings like the value of a half baggie of nickles and dimes. The last one or two might have been a little animated and, by the end of the day, no one in the office wanted to talk to us. They would have answered their phones if the did. Can't leave them a voice mail because this is Azerbaijan we just don't have that yet. My small collection of worthless art is gone. I told John to get them on the phone in the morning and make sure they understand that we want those pictures back if we have to pay ridiculous sums to get them out of the country.

If only the importing shipper had recorded the imported pictures with photos in their inventory, then this wouldn't be happening. But they didn't. And so I have to hope that it will occur to someone in authority that my poster of the Iditarod sled dog race wasn't purchased in Baku, neither was my little sketch of New Orleans. It would be a totally sad and depressing situation but they also took my Canada hooked rug wallhanging. I picked it up at an auction in Nova Scotia a while back. It was made to celebrate the Canada's centennial in 1967. It has the coats of arms and names of all the provinces on it and a bunch of maple leafs. I can totally see its cultural significance to the people of Azerbaijan. They will miss it terribly when its gone. And that just makes me want to laugh.

It was a curious day. I was handed simple innocuous things and told to "take in your suitcase." I'm glad I passed these up at Ramstore the other day, even though I thought they were the funniest things ever. And I still don't get the connection to juggling fruit....


By afternoon, I took English speaking girl into our room and showed her my suitcase.....just to let her know that I didn't have bottomless carpetbag like Mary Poppins. It didn't stop her from handing me things for which she had "no permission" but it made me feel better. All of my over-the-counter medicines, some soap, and hand sanitizer have gone off to the office for clarification. I rescued the Tamiflu from that baggie. The interesting thing is that I asked English speaking girl what would happen to the things that we weren't allowed to take with us? Would someone bring them back to me? She shrugged. Shrugging is very Russian, like permission from the government.

They forgot to take my Sumaq's off to customs. So I have a chance to get the certificates for those myself tomorrow. I have to get one for the carpet we picked up tonight, the one we found at the airport bazaar on the weekend.


It's to go in our new livingroom. We met the guy in the McDonald's parking lot and traded cash for carpet. He said we would need no certificate for it since it's factory made and brand new. Well, technically, he's right, but we have to get one or I'll be asked to put it into my suitcase.

I'm not sure who will be here tomorrow to complete the job. I hope we get good news on our questionable items.


Speaking of which, I had an opportunity to be kind today. English speaking girl approached, early the day, with a paper bundle in her hands. She opened it and asked me what "this is?" "Those are sheets," I said, "You know...for the bed." Ah.....

I almost said "ghost costume" but I didn't. That would have been just plain mean.

Man's Most Expensive Friend

Basically, I'm cheap. I hate to pay for things that I think I am perfectly capable of doing or handling myself. I think I am Superwoman, and that keeps Superman happy because he isn't one to throw money around unless it gets him out of yard work....or improve his automobile. So, true to form, I've decided to take on transporting the beloved pooch out of Baku myself. I'm taking him to Canada for 3 months because the Danes don't want to see him until it's proven that he is free of Azerbaijani dog diseases, including rabies. The Canadians don't care. As long as he has a valid rabies shot, he's welcome to come. And heck, he looks perfectly fine to me....what's a little foam at the corners of the mouth? I don't see any traces of hydrophobia.


Since we got him over here with practically no hassles at all (I sat in an Austin office about an hour waiting for a state veterinarian to sign something; Kenai had to endure a blue-gloved security pat down; and John had to pay a ticketing shortfall at the Lufthansa counter in Houston), I figured it would be pretty simple to get him back out. He has his microchip and his papers....should be pretty simple, right? Unfortunately, there have been a few snags and I can see why those pet transport people get paid the big bucks.

The shortest way from here to Halifax is on British Midland to London Heathrow, wait an hour and a half, then Air Canada direct to Halifax. Total travel time is 14 hours...nice fare only $1400 including the open jaw to Copenhagen in May. We never did get to the fare for the pooch because BMI, it turns out, doesn't fly animals on flights over 5 hours and the Baku to London route is 6 hours. It took me a long time to ascertain what the guy on the phone was trying to tell me. I naively assumed that when one called "British Midland" one would talk to someone who was....well....British. Not exactly the case. What a dumbass I am! He asked me my name 3 times before I figured what he was asking. He kept mumbling things about Belfast and Dublin ...and he must have wondered why I just kept repeating, I'm not going to Dublin! Over and over.... CLICK!

Okay, then....let's try Lufthansa...Baku, Frankfurt, London, I could still make the direct flight to Halifax. I checked with Heathrow and yes, they do have a place to keep dogs who are in transit up to 48 hours. This means no PETS program and no quarantine....just a little cooling of the heels waiting to transfer. Well, Lufthansa and Austrian and all of the others I called, only ship animals through Heathrow as cargo, not as checked baggage. I talked to a guy at Air Canada cargo and he said, "Take him with you if you can, way less hassle, way less paper work, and way cheaper." He said that I could take him through Heathrow as baggage, the Heathrow people also said I could take him as baggage.....the trick is to find and airline who will do it. I went through several Air Canada reservations reps with varying levels of testiness (theirs and mine but mostly theirs) All came back with the same answer in the end. By the end of day one I was beginning to see a pattern. The airlines don't want to deal with it. Everyone else I spoke to, said avoid Heathrow with your dog. Okay....I get it now. No Britania this time 'round. He looks royally pissed to me.


So that leaves, Frankfurt, Istanbul, or Moscow.....which really just leaves Frankfurt. I checked Cheap Tickets to get some idea of what was available to us going that way and there were options from Baku to Halifax via Frankfurt, there would have to be a second stop in either Toronto or Montreal. I threw up a little in my mouth at the $7200 price tag, but maybe Nargiz, our travel agent, could do better. And there wasn't anything else acceptable, though I had visions of John making us go through Istanbul to save a few (well more than a few) thousand dollars.

Now, Kenai's kennel is a little on the big side. We bought him one bigger than he needed so he'd be nice and comfy on his eleven hour flight to Frankfurt last year. The big kennel is a nice luxury but poses a problem with smaller aircraft....like those CRJ's and ERJ's that serve the Halifax airport on so many routes....particularly Montreal runs. But connecting through Montreal would mean less travel time for the dog and so I opted to go that way. Dorval here we come! Too bad there is only one large body aircraft, an Air Bus 320, out of Montreal to Halifax per week....on Sunday evening. Too bad there is no Lufthansa flight out of Baku on Sunday. Nargiz booked me out of Baku on the 20th of April. I had asked for the 18th but the date isn't that big a deal, so I let it go. This meant that I had to figure out how I was going to get the dog onto the ERJ.

And no matter how much he begs, his buddy can't come with him.


My thinking cap is getting worn out. I called Air Canada hoping to get a nice reservations agent who would tell me the maximum size kennel that would fit in the cargo door of the plane. I had measured the kennel we have....I didn't feel very optimistic. When I screwed that sucker together...it was HUGE! Obviously more than one or two sizes bigger than he needed. He's only a Sheltie afterall.

I was told by Air Canada that the maximum dimensions allowed on the ERJ are 80cm X 55 cm X 57.5 cm (an Intermediate size kennel). Not even close to what I have at 98 X 68 X 78! Hmmmmmmmmmm.........

Since I would have to collect Kenai in Montreal along with my bags to clear customs, and do his importation there, couldn't I get the right size cage from Air Canada in Montreal and transfer him into that one? I thought that was a pretty good idea until I learned that Air Canada doesn't sell airline kennels anymore. But surely someone in Montreal does, and I have a six hour stop over, and the dog is free to roam the country with me once he has cleared customs.....so, I would go off in a cab from the airport to buy a smaller kennel.

I thought it would be wise to setup this kennel buying in advance, to save us from cabbing it all over Montreal while our time dwindled from six hours to nothing. That brought me to the Sky Kennel Supply online website and YAY! they deliver via FedEx to anywhere in Canada! I began to plot. I already have a FedEx account! I need to find out the nearest FedEx office and plan to have the right size kennel sent there for pick up. I think how smart I am. My luggage can go back on the belt to Halifax (unless I have to check in again at Air Canada) and I can take the dog with with me. If I have to haul the luggage so be it. I can get a minivan cab to take everything and give him a big tip. I can break down the big Kennel into its two halves, bag it up and send it to Halifax as a checked bag. I don't have that Elite Status for nothing, eh? At this point the luxury of convenience and keeping this simple have gone out the window. Now it's a come hell or high water mission.

I am confident I can get my hands on the right size kennel. Thank goodness, that Sky Kennel Supply is closed for the Easter holidays. I couldn't order the right size kennel until Monday (plenty of time) but I would have had the right size kennel coming for the wrong size dog! Sky Kennel Supply gives their measurements in inches and they categorize the kennels by numbers....100 being the smallest and 700 being the largest. A person is supposed to read this before they go hog wild crazy emailing their travel agent.

How To Choose The Right Size Kennel

By doing a few calculations, I was able to determine that we currently own a #600 kennel....bigger than a #500 and a little smaller than the #700. A regular Buckingham Palace for a Sheltie. According to Sky Kennel Supply, Shelties should fit into a #200 kennel......I imagine there are some Shelties who do.

I was confident, however, he would fit into the #300....which is the largest size an ERJ can take. But for some strange reason, last night I decided we should measure the dog to be sure. Following the guidelines at the website above, we determined that Kenai is actually 4" longer than the #300 kennel and his height is 1" higher. Bummer!

And I had told Nargiz, the tickets looked good, so go ahead and ticket them. I had been so damn proud of myself but now I could see my next set of concert tickets going toward change fees. Crap! Nargiz' email account isn't working, it's ten o'clock at night and I have no way to stop her from issuing the tickets first thing in the morning, if she hasn't already done so. That'll teach me to judge size and distance by eyeball. To think we were worried he would be too fat and he ends up being to long! I don't know how he can sleep through this and seem so unconcerned.

Granted this pooch has a lot of fur, but no amount of compressing, folding, or configuring could get that length down by even so much as half an inch. What to do now?

Well, I took heart by the fact that we had at least managed to get ourselves (on paper at least) to Montreal. From there I could rent a car and drive us the rest of the way, or someone (not sure who) could come and pick us up. Everyone wants a nice 15 hour drive...um...each way, right? But I could rent a car if nothing else. And then there's the train....not sure I can afford a VIA Rail train ride but it's there if I need it.

Day two is not turning out so well, after all. Maybe I do need to call in one of those pet moving people. The kids don't need Christmas presents for the next ten years. I found out the air cargo charges to Montreal alone were $3600 USD....which isn't all that much for a a summer of life guarding services.


But, he still has to get to Halifax and then there are the fees for the service. This is beginning to smell like a 5 figure operation. I wonder if Kenai would like to spend the rest of his years following his true path in life. He is a sheep dog after all and there are plenty of sheep in Azerbaijan.


I sat here last night messing with airline schedules and itineraries. I was about to look for dog friendly hotels in Montreal and book a rental car. In the end I decided to send Nargiz another possibly undeliverable email, asking to be rerouted through Toronto instead of Montreal. There are many flights a day on this route with wide body planes, and Kenai could travel the whole way in his Taj Mahal, and we wouldn't have to crash in Montreal until I felt alert enough to drive home.

I'm afraid to look at how long this trip is going to take but if I do a quick mental calculation it would be about 27 hours. A lot longer than I had planned for his ordeal to last, but he is a pretty good trooper, and he does have experience. And I think he is pretty good shape for an eleven year old.


Deep breath! My ticket is an interesting concoction...Lufthansa paper ticket....Air Canada e-ticket on a BMI blank (can't feature that one at all) and a Scandinavian Airlines e-ticket on who knows what....because in Baku they think it's very odd that we can go to a kiosk with a booking reference number and get a boarding pass. Here you gotta do a few security checks and passport control just to get to the counter. John missed out on 14,000 Aeroplan miles the other week when they ran out of Lufthansa ticket blanks and had to book him on British Airways instead. One of my more WTF-iest moments here yet. But she got the whole shebang this time for $2100 including my open jaw to Copenhagen, somehow she manages to pull it all together in the end.

Even more exciting is that this time I have upgrade certificates in my hot little hands and upgradable fares. I graduated at long last to Star Alliance Gold. I had my first glimpse of the Star Alliance lounge in Copenhagen last week. There was free beer and wine and food and internet. I wanted to stay longer. It's just possible that this time 'round I might get my very first first class seat.

I'll try not to think of the pooch in steerage. I'll try really really hard.

I Have To Do What?

Here we are in Copenhagen. Finally!! And we found a house! Similar to this, just a few less rooms.


The process of working out the details is under way. The company is actually signing the lease, so it's going to be handled, from this point on, by the HR department. We've asked for a few things...a new fridge, new microwave, and the removal of the Spiderman carpet in one of the bedrooms....but the agent doesn't think any of this is going to be an issue since the guy is in a hurry for a tenant.

The new place has a very nice fenced yard for the dog, lots of very nice wooden lawn furniture for me, and a pool for John (albeit an unheated one).


I know an unheated pool in Denmark sounds kind of funny but six weeks use in a year is better than nothing! And we're tough.....I think.

The back wall of the house is glass which makes that great backyard feel like it's part of the house. And the first thing I'll do when I get there, is take all of that garden furniture waiting under the carport and place it around my new patio.


I am such a sucker for garden furniture. I spied this treasure trove as we drove up and most of what was inside the house became inconsequential.


We didn't look at all that many houses since there aren't all that many fully furnished houses to look at. We did see some apartments but I think a house is a much better option with the dog. Especially when I think about how many 4th and 5th floor apartments we saw in buildings with no elevators. Obviously all that bike riding to work and the grocery store has given the Danes nice strong legs.

I need nice strong legs, too, so I've been bike shopping online. I've been browsing the bike racks on the streets and been to a couple bike shops. The selection of bikes here is incredible! Which makes sense since 36% of the population of Copenhagen bike to work or school.


Who would have thunk that a country with a population as small as Denmark's would be able to support more than a dozen cycle manufacturers. Those companies sell enough bikes to the local market that they don't need to have their websites in any other language but Danish. After 4 nights of bike browsing, I've learned a fair bit of vocabulary. When I get back here in May, I'll begin my search in earnest and take some of them out for a test drive. That should amuse all of the Danes in the new neighborhood.

Whatever I do choose for a bike, it will have to be a good sturdy one. I might be forced into two wheel transportation by a new freakish Danish law that makes people with non-EU driver's licenses be completely retested in order to get a Danish driver's license. And foreigners living in Denmark are required to get a Danish license....an International one won't do either. Within 2 weeks of getting our residency cards we have to begin the process of converting our licenses.

The very nice lady with Deloitte passed this info to us a few minutes after John signed his contract and we handed her our immigration paper work. She was very sympathetic and apologized for her government but explained how the North American licensing system wasn't considered rigorous enough for us to qualify for an automatic flip. I can see by checking out the requirements of new drivers in Denmark she's right, but dammit, shouldn't 32 years of experience count for something?

We were strongly advised to take a driving course that prepares you for the tests....the written and the road (yikes!)....and she gave me a name of a place that has classes in English. English.....I never thought of that! Could be important, no? The written test is in Danish and so we have to take a certified interpreter with us. The interpreter must also be sitting in the back of the car during the road test too. The school has made an English translation of the Rules of the Road book but apparently it isn't perfect and it costs about $100. There isn't any point to just getting the book and studying on your own for the test, since the driving instructors are the only ones allowed to book appointments for testing. Mom and Dad are not legally allowed to teach the kids to drive here. You have to take driver education.

From what I've discovered, the written test is a bitch, with questions not designed to test your knowledge....but to trick you instead. The driving schools train you on how to take the test. They teach you the words they use with ambiguous meanings, and get you to practice and practice and practice. When they think you're ready, they go to your local "commune" and book your appointment. They also take care of getting the interpreter. Apparently, this isn't all that simple since there are 4 schedules that have to be coordinated for anything to happen.....space for the test on the commune's schedule, and the availability of the 3 parties involved. The instructor will also come to the written test with you. It takes an hour! Get 6 questions wrong out of 100 and you flunk.

That's the easy part. If I was a Dane I would HAVE to take the test on a manual transmission, but since I am an uncoordinated foreigner, they have relaxed the rules so that I may take my test on an automatic. But because I am an uncoordinated klutz, the car I use for the test has to have dual controls. The driving school will rent me the automatic but of course it costs more. (I think there is a ton of money to be made in the EU off foreigners who need to go to driving school.)

We had the cost of the driving school added to John's contract. It cost something like a 5,000 kroner (about $1000) each for the course. But this time it isn't the money.....it's a road test! Can't I show them a Manhattan parking ticket as proof I know how to drive anywhere? Would they accept the course I took in Texas to counter my speeding ticket last year? It was 6 freaking hours long!

There aren't all that many cars in Denmark, I don't get it. I can't see any here...


Wait, I can see a couple in this one if I squint...


And there's another one....behind that tree.


So there are a few round-abouts........I think I'd catch onto them quick enough. I know not to run over a cyclist. But will I remember to check the bike lanes on that driver's test? My new mantra is....bike lane, bike lane, bike lane. I WILL NOT forget there are bike lanes on all of the roads. I will forget everything I saw in Baku that passes for driving. When I am in Halifax next month, I will practice model driving skills and try to expunge some bad habits.

On the bright side I am not a new Danish driver who has an even more rigorous test to pass and a 7 hour first aid course to complete. Maybe that's why 36% of the people in Copenhagen bike to work.

I don't need a beer right now, I need a brewery tour.

The Old Pro Goes Carpet Shopping

This is the Maiden's Tower. Ruslan's Flying Carpet is located just to the right of the tower. Samir's Qizil Gul is located immediately to the left.



You can't see one shop from the other with the tower in the way, so it's easy to say good bye to one and slip 'round to the other. Like, Ruslan, Samir has a reputation as a good guy to deal with. Unlike Ruslan, he doesn't have a Montreal Canadiens baseball cap. But I have a feeling there might be a Toronto Maple Leafs one in his future.

I can't remember what day last week that I went to Samir's, but John was with me, and this time, Ali came in with us instead of just dropping us off on the boulevard. He brought a pair of carpets with him that had belonged to his great grandmother and he wanted to have them appraised.

EEEEEEEEEE!!! Just like Christmas!!!


And Santa came....



The first thing we got Samir to show us, after the opening pleasantries and pouring of the tea, were some silks.....and we got some more lessons.



These were creeping up into the $1800 dollar range and we didn't see one that we liked better than the one we both liked at The Flying Carpet. We had quite a stack of rugs piled up in front of us and the colors and patterns were beginning to all run together again. I was at the point of not knowing what I wanted anymore. John wasn't getting stressed out over this at all since he had convinced himself that Ruslan's pale silk Tabriz was his ace in the hole. He had initially thought that getting a carpet of local design with symbolism unique to the area would be the way to go. He was looking for a souvenir, while I wanted something to go under the dining room table we'd buy when we got Stateside again. Somewhere along the way he got caught up in my mantra of silk and changed his mind.

Then Samir unfurled this one onto the top of the pile.



Oooooohhhh!!! Pitter patter....

It is a Kazak...from a region in northern Azerbaijan. It had symbols. The Tree of Life. Moustache to represent man, earring to represent woman, birds which stand in for dragons! And it was big and it had a velvety sheen because it's merino goat's wool, and it was priced sort of right, and we both liked it very much so we bought it. Why? Well, we both really did fall in love with it. Pretty much end of story....um...not really though.....because we didn't exactly stop shopping. We didn't have quite enough money on us to pay for the carpet, so I had to come back.

A few days later, John went off to Copenhagen to see about his new job and I went downtown to square things up with Samir. I bought 2 kilims. I wanted 3 to give as gifts, but only saw 2 that I wanted. Gosh....I have to come down here and do this again! Pity.

Then in a stroke of good luck John came back from Denmark with a commission....to find a carpet for friends who live in Copenhagen. They wanted a silk rug about 2 meters by 3 meters.....nothing to flashy....something nice, and subtle, but still with some color. They sent me a picture to go by via email and away we went on Saturday.

Our first stop was to Ruslan's and out of the 4 silk carpets he had shown us on our first day, only 2 were left. One of them was the silk we had liked so much. This, Ruslan took as a sign that it was meant to be ours. John murmured something about our friends probably liking this one, so maybe we should just get that one and go home. Well, that was all well and good but I had told them that I'd go 'round to the shops, take some photos and then upload them so they could make their own choice. I didn't see how I could send them one picture and say, "Okay, this is it. Hope you like it." Spending your friends money is fun but does come with some responsibility. Would you trust this man with your 1500 bucks?


You can probably tell by the blue eyes that isn't Ruslan....

For myself, I succumbed to a trio of 100% silk sumaq's.



They just happened to be laid out on top of someone's pile when we entered the shop.


They are magic carpets, they knew my name and called out to me......they told me evil lies.....We make excellent Christmas presents!


I'd bet at a meter by a meter and a half they are too big to fit in a suitcase. Bummer! None of my carpet lessons to date have taught me how to turn off the siren voices in my head.....that must be an advanced class down at the carpet museum.

Since we had many more shops to go and only one day to hit them up, I finally gave John the exit signal and started to head up the stairs. When I turned to see if he was coming or not, he was still standing next to his rolled up beloved silk. The next thing I know, he whips his right hand out of his jeans pocket, slaps the top of the roll and says, We'll take it!

Score one for the man in the silly hat! What? I shot him the look. The one that combines "Hellllllo!" and "WTF?" all into one brow furrow. At this point, knitted brows notwithstanding, I start stammering. Trying tell John we can't do that. We have to shop more. I have to send pictures to Copenhagen. Ruslan is happy. He begins to discuss getting the certificate. John and Ruslan see me fidgeting there. John back tracks a little at the sight of me and tells Ruslan he is 90% sure that he'll take it.He'll let him know 100% tomorrow.

I'm still standing on the first step....beginning to get giddy thinking he can't be buying this carpet for people who haven't even seen it! He must be buying it for us! He must be happier with his Danish compensation than I thought! No one has told him what the tax rates are in Denmark! Maybe there won't be any Clay trips for the next two and a half years?

We exit the rug shop and begin to walk past the tower.



And an archeological dig....



We are headed in the general direction of a whole street full of carpet shops. I am trying to figure out what John was thinking. I want to know if he bought that for us, or was he feeling lucky and confident enough to buy it for them. He told me he thought it was the best rug he had seen, and if they didn't want it then he'd buy it. Yikes! We wave off the entreaties of the first few shop owners and wander a bit. The bag of sumaqs is a big flag for the vendors....folks in a buying mood! Put on the tea!

Eventually, we stop...mostly so I can take pictures to satisfy my need to send some choices to our friends. John's interest is waning a little since he is convinced he has the right one on hold down the street. I'm beginning to think he was right.

This one was nice but not big enough.



I liked this one, and the guy really came down his price, but it didn't look much like the picture I was carrying.



Neither did this one....



Or this one.....



It's right about now that John gets a phone call from Ali. There's a big concert for the holidays happening down on the Boardwalk. He wants us to head that way and he'll meet us. It isn't exactly a nice balmy day for an outdoor concert and we could hear it from where we were in the Old City. Some one is singing Can't Touch This. We decide a couple of cappucinos at Caramel Cafe sound better. I am still in a state of shock over my maybe I own it/maybe I don't silk carpet (in addition to the one I already bought with The Tree of Life pattern, the 2 kilims, and the 3 sumaqs). But I have a dozen or more pictures of contenders to send to Denmark later that night.

This is the photo of the carpet that they liked the best.



Looks kind of familiar, doesn't it? No, he didn't say I told you so. He's just a little smug, that's all. But he's gone out of town for a couple of weeks so it's okay. This side step to Houston has backed up our move by almost a month...which means three more paydays before the Danish taxes kick in and the Euro-Budget becomes effective. I still owe Ruslan $250 bucks for the sumaqs since I was a little short that day, too. I'm going to have to drop by there this week to give him some money.

Luckily, I have learned that the amount you can offer is never limited to what's in your wallet. John told Ruslan he'd pay for the silk at the end of the month. Hmmmmm.....John's out of town for a couple of weeks and it doesn't matter whether you have money or not.....