Wednesday, April 24, 2013
The Long Awaited House Photos
Monday, April 22, 2013
How Can I Explain?
I have been meaning to write a blog post for close to two weeks now. So many new, great amazing things have been happening. Yet, the only thing I can think about recently is Boston and the idea of 'home' that is far broader than the house my parents live in. And while I was thinking about it, I couldn't necessarily articulate any of those thoughts, beyond: "Holy f*ing shit".
Two years ago, I was living in Boston. Two years ago, the streets whose images are being broadcasted across the world are streets I felt safe on, streets I walked. I admit, my little hiatus from Facebook took a hiatus as this ordeal continued to unfold. For a little over a year, Boston was my home away from home. It is still a place that I consider returning to once my service is done. So, as I began my morning routine of putting the tea kettle on, turning on my computer, plugging in the flash drive that operates as my internet, then going outside to relieve myself and re-entering the kitchen again, I quickly glanced at nytimes.com and thought, "Huh?" I was sleepy, foggy, so I turned my back and made the coffee. When I sat down in front of my computer again, the shock didn't truly set in for several minutes. I read the headlines over and over again, then I watched the video.
At first, I was extremely confused. Then I was nervous, scanning my brain to think of any friends or contacts that might have been there at that time. Then I realized it was getting late and if I was going to go for a run, I needed to leave. As I climbed the hills of Malishka that morning, I can't say I was thinking about the tragedy. I was thinking about my time in Boston. The times I went downtown to the Public Library because it was just so awesome. And the ever reoccurring thought returned, "How the hell did I get HERE?!" When I got back to the house I immediately sat down in front of my computer and logged onto Facebook. I checked all the pages of friends, and people I've lost contact with who live in or are from the area. I read moving posts from peers I went to school with who I didn't even realize were from Boston and from friends that are runners. Surreal is the closest word that comes to describing how it felt to read the updates every morning there after.
Today, one week later, I am understanding that while unimaginable physically removed from Boston, I was still very much affected by the events that went on. It left me feeling wildly homesick. I wanted to be there, or with people I knew during my time there... or just SOMETHING. I wanted to be out celebrating in the bars when the 2nd brother was caught and the lock-down ended. I wanted to be surrounded by people who KNOW Boston, who LOVE Boston. Instead, it rained and was cold everyday. Instead, I laid in the dark listening to yet another midnight shower. I had vivid, odd dreams about people from that place and time in my life.
There was only one Armenia who asked me about the events. I find this odd, because a good chunk of Armenian news is taken directly from American news outlets. For instance, last fall there was air time given to the Texas high school cheerleaders who made banners with Bible verses displayed. And yet, no one seems to know about the bombings, nor do they really care all that much. When the man at the vegetable market asked me if I knew what had happened I said, "Yes, I do. But how can I explain?". He took me literally, and began explaining - in Armenian- that two bombs had gone off. What I really wanted to say was, "NO! How can I explain the decisions of another human? How do I make sense of someone doing this? Why is the world at a place and time, when news of a bombing gets a mild reaction, almost like hearing that it rained yesterday?" Unfortunately, I don't have the language to say these things. It is times like these, that I feel truly isolated in my community.
There is a part of me (for once) that wants everyone here to know there's something going on and ask me how I'm doing. I wanted the children to know that I don't have the energy to deal with them lately because a place I once lived in is in a state of chaos. Then, I began to think of the Peace Corps Volunteers that sat on the other side of the world while the towers burned in New York in 2011. I wonder, how many of them went home? Were they allowed to? Did they stay together until they were able to go home? How many of them called New York home?
Another thought I had last week was the overwhelming irony in my being in Armenia during both the Boston Bombing and Hurricane Sandy. Before coming, whenever asked where I was headed, 90% of the time the reaction was, "Sorry, I have no idea where that is!" I would then explain that it bordered Iran and Turkey. The look of horror was almost always imminent after imparting this information. "Aren't you scared, to be so...close..to there?" My answer was the polite nod of, "Yes, I understand your concern, but no I'm not scared." Nowadays, the idea seems laughable. Scared? What would have been scary was being in the last two places I lived during the horrific events that have occurred in them this last year.
I guess you could say that the honeymoon phase of having my own place is complete. I promise to post again in the next few days with pictures and more things about new secret admirers from across the street. (Though, it's not a secret because they come one to two times everyday asking if I can come out and play).
Two years ago, I was living in Boston. Two years ago, the streets whose images are being broadcasted across the world are streets I felt safe on, streets I walked. I admit, my little hiatus from Facebook took a hiatus as this ordeal continued to unfold. For a little over a year, Boston was my home away from home. It is still a place that I consider returning to once my service is done. So, as I began my morning routine of putting the tea kettle on, turning on my computer, plugging in the flash drive that operates as my internet, then going outside to relieve myself and re-entering the kitchen again, I quickly glanced at nytimes.com and thought, "Huh?" I was sleepy, foggy, so I turned my back and made the coffee. When I sat down in front of my computer again, the shock didn't truly set in for several minutes. I read the headlines over and over again, then I watched the video.
At first, I was extremely confused. Then I was nervous, scanning my brain to think of any friends or contacts that might have been there at that time. Then I realized it was getting late and if I was going to go for a run, I needed to leave. As I climbed the hills of Malishka that morning, I can't say I was thinking about the tragedy. I was thinking about my time in Boston. The times I went downtown to the Public Library because it was just so awesome. And the ever reoccurring thought returned, "How the hell did I get HERE?!" When I got back to the house I immediately sat down in front of my computer and logged onto Facebook. I checked all the pages of friends, and people I've lost contact with who live in or are from the area. I read moving posts from peers I went to school with who I didn't even realize were from Boston and from friends that are runners. Surreal is the closest word that comes to describing how it felt to read the updates every morning there after.
Today, one week later, I am understanding that while unimaginable physically removed from Boston, I was still very much affected by the events that went on. It left me feeling wildly homesick. I wanted to be there, or with people I knew during my time there... or just SOMETHING. I wanted to be out celebrating in the bars when the 2nd brother was caught and the lock-down ended. I wanted to be surrounded by people who KNOW Boston, who LOVE Boston. Instead, it rained and was cold everyday. Instead, I laid in the dark listening to yet another midnight shower. I had vivid, odd dreams about people from that place and time in my life.
There was only one Armenia who asked me about the events. I find this odd, because a good chunk of Armenian news is taken directly from American news outlets. For instance, last fall there was air time given to the Texas high school cheerleaders who made banners with Bible verses displayed. And yet, no one seems to know about the bombings, nor do they really care all that much. When the man at the vegetable market asked me if I knew what had happened I said, "Yes, I do. But how can I explain?". He took me literally, and began explaining - in Armenian- that two bombs had gone off. What I really wanted to say was, "NO! How can I explain the decisions of another human? How do I make sense of someone doing this? Why is the world at a place and time, when news of a bombing gets a mild reaction, almost like hearing that it rained yesterday?" Unfortunately, I don't have the language to say these things. It is times like these, that I feel truly isolated in my community.
There is a part of me (for once) that wants everyone here to know there's something going on and ask me how I'm doing. I wanted the children to know that I don't have the energy to deal with them lately because a place I once lived in is in a state of chaos. Then, I began to think of the Peace Corps Volunteers that sat on the other side of the world while the towers burned in New York in 2011. I wonder, how many of them went home? Were they allowed to? Did they stay together until they were able to go home? How many of them called New York home?
Another thought I had last week was the overwhelming irony in my being in Armenia during both the Boston Bombing and Hurricane Sandy. Before coming, whenever asked where I was headed, 90% of the time the reaction was, "Sorry, I have no idea where that is!" I would then explain that it bordered Iran and Turkey. The look of horror was almost always imminent after imparting this information. "Aren't you scared, to be so...close..to there?" My answer was the polite nod of, "Yes, I understand your concern, but no I'm not scared." Nowadays, the idea seems laughable. Scared? What would have been scary was being in the last two places I lived during the horrific events that have occurred in them this last year.
I guess you could say that the honeymoon phase of having my own place is complete. I promise to post again in the next few days with pictures and more things about new secret admirers from across the street. (Though, it's not a secret because they come one to two times everyday asking if I can come out and play).
Wednesday, April 10, 2013
The People Always Stare
So, I find that generally I tend not to share culture aspects or what life as a Peace Corps Volunteer can be like. One of the trademarks of life as a Volunteer is the constant staring that we must always endure. I have struggled with this quite a bit. At first, it felt okay because I was new, but it hasn't stopped and I'm realizing that it probably will not, especially since I live in a big village. At first, I put a lot of effort into my clothing, hoping that I would 'fit in' with everyone else on the bus, or at school. There is no such thing as 'fitting in'. With a glance out of the side of their eye, they would know I was not one of them. In the beginning I made sure to assimilate as much as possible, polish my shoes, wear jeans for casual gathering, never leave the house without makeup or jewelry, and the like. I would NEVER imagine wearing workout pants or sneakers on the bus. Oh the stares! How could I manage?! Then one day, I realized I was wasting my time trying to minimize the staring. No matter what I do, where, say, or go I will be stared out. Instead of worrying I embrace the staring (as much as possible) by wearing obscene outfits that I would have NEVER left the house in, back in America. I decided today to share that with you today. This is a splendid jacket that was actually handed down to me by my Armenian host family last fall. I think that they get clothes from a relative of a relative of a relative from America. I can't imagine a single Armenian wearing this ... jacket? I think it's a jacket. Or maybe a pullover? I'm not sure, but it's got elbows and everything. I hope you enjoy this photo shoot as much as I did.
This is me wanting to look majestic.
This is me showing off my long hair, and ability to hold my hand on my hip .
Here I am, pretending I am the limelight of an 80's party.
Here I am, pretending that I a pensive 80's model.
Here I am, as a young 80's soccer mom.
This outfit was dutifully pared with black and purple running sneakers, and black capri work out pants.
Sunday, April 7, 2013
Jigsaw Falling Into Place
After closing the computer on my last post, much of what I was looking forward to awaited me. Siranush had made my favorite meal (which isn't really a meal at all, but a sauteed vegetable that is somewhere between spinach and seaweed called 'bonjar') and sent me home with some goodies. This time it was fresh homemade cheese ( YES!), a jar of sauce I helped jar last summer (YEESSS!), and a bag full on onions (yes?). She also informed me that I should not be purchasing my potatoes from anyone, but that she would supply them for me.
She inquired about where I buy my eggs, lavash and other vegetables. She asked me why I didn't bring my clothes to wash. I told her I would return to wash them either today or tomorrow. She then told me that one of her twin daughters moved into my old room. She told me that for the first time in their lives the twins are sleeping in separate rooms. Her daughter has decorated the room the same way that I had, with pictures and writings on the walls. She then lead me back to the room I lived in for eight months to see with my own eyes. I can't properly relay the response this evoked. Somewhere between surprise, validation and pride.
All this time, one of the areas I've felt most disappointed in has been my relationship with Siranush's twin daughters. American twin sisters that are 15 years old are going to be difficult to bond with, no less Armenian ones. There are several reasons why I found this relationship challenging. Firstly, I've never had a sister. Secondly, Armenian youth are experiencing this two-sided-coin sort of life: The way their parents understand life and the world; and the world they're being exposed to through internet and television. Finally, they're my students and I never quite knew how to balance those two very different relationships. So when I saw that Anna had literally followed in my foot steps there was such a sense of relief. I wasn't able to see until that moment that I had made an impact on the girls, maybe even more than I realize now. The very cool thing about this impact, is that it was one I wanted to have. I wanted them to become more individual, independent so that there was more room for personal growth and it seems that is exactly what will ensue.
I was on such a high walking home from the 'ole host family home that evening that when one of the school's cleaning ladies came running outside, asking that I come inside, I agreed. Since moving, I have received a lot of invitations to go sit, have coffee and candy. It's a regular and normal thing for Armenians to extend this sort of hospitality. Hosting friends, family, and strangers is a normal and regular part of the culture. The word 'huerasirel' means 'to guest love' literally, but in our terms it would mean to be a very good host. There's also an understanding that you are 'pleasuring' your guests. I recently had a male Armenian friend begin to say, "So, when we are pleasuring you..." My friend Lauren and I, once we stopped snorting in laughter, explained this wasn't exactly an appropriate phrasing for the circumstances. Anyway, I hung out with Annahit and her daughter-in-law for a half hour or so and they sent me away with a bottle of fresh cow's milk. Overall, it was a very good day.
The day before an Armenian Peace Corps Staff member had stopped in Malishka on his way down South to drop off a tank of gas. Once opening the stove to reveal the smaller tank, he explained I would need a new reductor and a new schlong. No joke. This man stood in my kitchen and explained, "You will need, maybe, a one to two meter schlong will be long enough." If there was a single other American around I would have lost it, but I did not feel like explaining myself to this man and so I kept my mouth shut.
Also, Samvell helped me to pick up my bed in the nearby town AND THAT was another ridiculous highlight of last week. This may be the first time that everyone was truly gawking at me, and it wasn't just my imagination or a bad dream. We simply had to laugh it off. Now I sit in my living room that's decorated and arranged precisely how I want it after a wonderful evening and morning with my sitemates laughing, commiserating and most importantly, sharing.
Life is good. Life is real good.
Song Of The Week: Rachel Yamagata 'Elephants'
Quote Of The Week: "Hing rope, arten yekav!"
She inquired about where I buy my eggs, lavash and other vegetables. She asked me why I didn't bring my clothes to wash. I told her I would return to wash them either today or tomorrow. She then told me that one of her twin daughters moved into my old room. She told me that for the first time in their lives the twins are sleeping in separate rooms. Her daughter has decorated the room the same way that I had, with pictures and writings on the walls. She then lead me back to the room I lived in for eight months to see with my own eyes. I can't properly relay the response this evoked. Somewhere between surprise, validation and pride.
All this time, one of the areas I've felt most disappointed in has been my relationship with Siranush's twin daughters. American twin sisters that are 15 years old are going to be difficult to bond with, no less Armenian ones. There are several reasons why I found this relationship challenging. Firstly, I've never had a sister. Secondly, Armenian youth are experiencing this two-sided-coin sort of life: The way their parents understand life and the world; and the world they're being exposed to through internet and television. Finally, they're my students and I never quite knew how to balance those two very different relationships. So when I saw that Anna had literally followed in my foot steps there was such a sense of relief. I wasn't able to see until that moment that I had made an impact on the girls, maybe even more than I realize now. The very cool thing about this impact, is that it was one I wanted to have. I wanted them to become more individual, independent so that there was more room for personal growth and it seems that is exactly what will ensue.
I was on such a high walking home from the 'ole host family home that evening that when one of the school's cleaning ladies came running outside, asking that I come inside, I agreed. Since moving, I have received a lot of invitations to go sit, have coffee and candy. It's a regular and normal thing for Armenians to extend this sort of hospitality. Hosting friends, family, and strangers is a normal and regular part of the culture. The word 'huerasirel' means 'to guest love' literally, but in our terms it would mean to be a very good host. There's also an understanding that you are 'pleasuring' your guests. I recently had a male Armenian friend begin to say, "So, when we are pleasuring you..." My friend Lauren and I, once we stopped snorting in laughter, explained this wasn't exactly an appropriate phrasing for the circumstances. Anyway, I hung out with Annahit and her daughter-in-law for a half hour or so and they sent me away with a bottle of fresh cow's milk. Overall, it was a very good day.
The day before an Armenian Peace Corps Staff member had stopped in Malishka on his way down South to drop off a tank of gas. Once opening the stove to reveal the smaller tank, he explained I would need a new reductor and a new schlong. No joke. This man stood in my kitchen and explained, "You will need, maybe, a one to two meter schlong will be long enough." If there was a single other American around I would have lost it, but I did not feel like explaining myself to this man and so I kept my mouth shut.
Also, Samvell helped me to pick up my bed in the nearby town AND THAT was another ridiculous highlight of last week. This may be the first time that everyone was truly gawking at me, and it wasn't just my imagination or a bad dream. We simply had to laugh it off. Now I sit in my living room that's decorated and arranged precisely how I want it after a wonderful evening and morning with my sitemates laughing, commiserating and most importantly, sharing.
Life is good. Life is real good.
Song Of The Week: Rachel Yamagata 'Elephants'
Quote Of The Week: "Hing rope, arten yekav!"
Thursday, April 4, 2013
Life Without Facebook
I must say, that my impulses to melt my brain with Facebook have been strong and consistent. I am in my third full day, and a friend tells me that I can expect the addiction to loosen it's hold on me by the end of my first week. I secretly don't believe him. In the meantime, I have been thoroughly enjoying my time alone in my new place. Today I will go over the host family's to take a shower. I am hoping that they feed me. I am also hoping that they send me away with goodies such as the homemade lavash they get delivered to the house, the fresh homemade cheese that I've grown to love and crave, and maybe apples or something.
Today I finally started to decorate the house. For some reason, I have been reluctant to do this without my new bed, which I expect to be delivered within the next day or two. Seeing that the bed is not the whole house, I thought it would be okay if I started in the dining area. I decorated the walls with the colorings that my niece did, sent by my mother. I am hoping that when I finally invite the host family and some choice students over they don't assume I am hanging my own pictures... that would be very awkward. When the place is as I want it, I will be sure to post pictures into the blog for your viewing pleasure.
Without Facebook, I find myself writing daily in my journal and devouring any book that I can get my hands on. The weather has been absolutely gorgeous, high 70's for the last week and I've dutifully been getting my tan on. I am still becoming accustomed to the neighborhood sounds, always on edge that my landlord will waltz up the stairs to find me in my underwear smoking a cigarette, reading a book, laying on a camping mat outside my front door. I don't really think this would go over well, so I jump at every sound that comes from the street.
The trees in my yard continue to bloom and it's magnificent taking note of which ones gained color over the last day or so the next morning. I can't wait for the furthering of privacy that will surely happen once all of the tress and plants have leafed and or bloomed. This weekend I am having my sitemates over for a house warming dinner and plan to spend the rest of the time working on my tan, preparing for our regional poetry contest and tiding up the garden.
Yay for Spring, tans, freedom, flipflops, decorating, and being that much closer to my birthday!!
Today I finally started to decorate the house. For some reason, I have been reluctant to do this without my new bed, which I expect to be delivered within the next day or two. Seeing that the bed is not the whole house, I thought it would be okay if I started in the dining area. I decorated the walls with the colorings that my niece did, sent by my mother. I am hoping that when I finally invite the host family and some choice students over they don't assume I am hanging my own pictures... that would be very awkward. When the place is as I want it, I will be sure to post pictures into the blog for your viewing pleasure.
Without Facebook, I find myself writing daily in my journal and devouring any book that I can get my hands on. The weather has been absolutely gorgeous, high 70's for the last week and I've dutifully been getting my tan on. I am still becoming accustomed to the neighborhood sounds, always on edge that my landlord will waltz up the stairs to find me in my underwear smoking a cigarette, reading a book, laying on a camping mat outside my front door. I don't really think this would go over well, so I jump at every sound that comes from the street.
The trees in my yard continue to bloom and it's magnificent taking note of which ones gained color over the last day or so the next morning. I can't wait for the furthering of privacy that will surely happen once all of the tress and plants have leafed and or bloomed. This weekend I am having my sitemates over for a house warming dinner and plan to spend the rest of the time working on my tan, preparing for our regional poetry contest and tiding up the garden.
Yay for Spring, tans, freedom, flipflops, decorating, and being that much closer to my birthday!!
Tuesday, April 2, 2013
Unplugging
Hello my babies! I know, how soon after my last post that I write again! Alas, it has occurred to me that I should inform you of two very important things.
1. I intend not to open Facebook, for any purposes, until the day after my birthday. Whereupon I expect hundreds of notifications. I admit to having a small game involving birthday messages and FB. That is all the detail I was disclose.
2. My birthday is coming up very soon. Before you know it, you will have missed the opportunity to send me something splendid, whether it be a full care package or simple card reminding me how missed I truly am. For your convenience, I have compiled a list of things that would be more than pleasant to receive upon my birthday. Please note, that all care packages and cards ought to be in the U.S. mail system by the 15th of this month. Otherwise, it is unlikely I receive your gift by my actual birthday. So, let us commence discussing my presents:
1. I intend not to open Facebook, for any purposes, until the day after my birthday. Whereupon I expect hundreds of notifications. I admit to having a small game involving birthday messages and FB. That is all the detail I was disclose.
2. My birthday is coming up very soon. Before you know it, you will have missed the opportunity to send me something splendid, whether it be a full care package or simple card reminding me how missed I truly am. For your convenience, I have compiled a list of things that would be more than pleasant to receive upon my birthday. Please note, that all care packages and cards ought to be in the U.S. mail system by the 15th of this month. Otherwise, it is unlikely I receive your gift by my actual birthday. So, let us commence discussing my presents:
- Craisins
- Trader Joe's Seaweed
- Nyquil
- YOGI Lavender Tea
- Fanciful posters/ tapestries
- Jiffy Peanut Butter
- Ground Flaxseed
- A bag of Peet's Coffee and/or the a bag from your local shop
- Tate's cookies
- All purpose italian seasoning
- Trident gum
- Dried Blueberries
- A scented candle
- chocolate covered espresso beans
- Brownie mix
- Other 'just add water' goods
- Something you enjoy that will last the 2-3 week trip in a box
- A plastic spatula
- Goldfish
- Lemonade mix
I believe that is all I can think of at the moment. Should you feel compelled to run something by me, feel free to send me your inquiry at cnatalier@gmail.com. You can send your mail to the following address:
Republic of Armenia
Carolyn Rodgers
Vayots Dzor Marz
v. Malishka 3601
...Or if you find this utterly ridiculous, you can feel free to support my current grant project. I am the co-organizer of the National Poetry Contest this year. Students from all regions of Armenia will have paid for trips to compete with their peers in the capital. It's a great opportunity for students to meet others interested in English and this could possibly be their first time in the capital city, Yerevan. By following this link, you can donate whatever amount you feel is appropriate. Just keep in mind, even $5 will go a long way in helping get these kids to the competition! Donate to the 2013 National Poetry Contest!
Thanks for your consideration.
Quote Of The Week: "Yea dude! Just go stick your face in buck of soil!" Lauren Leary
Song Of The Week: Billy Joel "New York State Of Mind"
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