Akunk, Armenia

Well, it seems my brain was boiling over when I was writing my previous post. I am feeling a lot more clear headed now.

I have been with my host family for two nights now. Unfortunately, the morning before my arrival one of my host sisters was taken to the hospital. I have yet to meet her or my host mom at this point. Angela, 22, is one of my three host sisters and she speaks English very well. She will be a great, great help to me in learning Armenia. Unlike my language teachers, she is very open about telling me my pronunciation is wrong. That may change though, because on Friday the language class will be split into three groups. We were asked to give a self assessment of where we are and group ourselves with other similar levels within the class. Luckily, I have been told by my host family, my friend's host family and the man at the store that my Armenian (Hayeren) is very clear and good. Apparently, it's impressive. Before coming I thought this may be a possibility, as my history in music has given me a good ear for copying sounds precisely and using my tongue to make them.

I will say though, I am struggling to make guttural noises. It is so hard!! There are two different letters in the Armenian alphabet that are guttural and  differentiating them is nearly impossible at the moment. My host sister will be working on that though, don't worry.

There is much and more to say, but that is all the time I have. One quick tip: When travelling in Armenia and female, do not smoke cigarettes... they'll think you're 'available'. So much for wondering if I would be able to quit completely. Oh, and my bathroom is an outhouse, with a hole in ground. Ask for change and ye shall receive. 

Greetings from Armenia

Hello Babies!!!!

I finally made it! I am here in Armenia which is about an hour outside the capital city of Yerevan. The A-20 group has been here since Friday morning. When we arrived, the country manager and other Peace Corps Armenia staff took us to the Cathedral of Zvartnots (c.650 - 659 A.D.) to watch the sunrise. It is tradition for when new groups arrive each year and it is really special. I just posted pictures on the FB, so check them out there.

It's absolutely mind blowing that it is just shy of one week since my last blog post. Yesterday I started drafting a blog post that was going to have the break down of my travel and simply recalling those three days was tiresome, so I dropped that idea. So much has happened, I have met so many new people and been told a great multitude of things, trying to put together a succinct post is proving to be a challenge. I feel like my head to going to explode... in a good way.

This is the short of it: Tuesday I flew to D.C. and had about a 5 hour introductory session there. The next morning all 44 of us gathered our (overwhelming) luggage and headed off to Vienna. After a nine hour flight, we had day rooms right near the airport and had a to chance to grab some rest. I took a bath. Later that night we flew out around 10:30pm and arrived in Yerevan at 4:30am. Next was the cathedral, then an hour drive to our remote location. This was my first opportunity to sleep since the day before and I passed out like a rock. We were briefly introduced to our teachers and one another. For the last two days we have been in language, health, security and technical sessions that are about one hour each but last throughout the day. Luckily last night I went to bed and woke up at my normal, it feels great to be adjusted to the time.

Tomorrow I meet my PST host family. I am so very excited to unpack my things and get settled in. I will be there for approximately 11 weeks, whereafter my service truly begins and I am moved to my permanent site. I don't want to get ahead of myself, though. The next three months will be a great challenge, but I welcome it. Thus far I have been diligent with my yoga, writing and meditation practices and it seems this has helped to keep me both balanced and... nice.


Later gators!

Sentiments Before Departing

It's my last real morning at home in Babylon. The weather has been beautiful the last couple of days, but currently, it's foggy and overcast. I've left home so many times, for college each year, for AmeriCorps in Boston, and now for Peace Corps in Armenia. This time though, is truly the last. All of my things are packed so that when I do return to the states I can easily ship out. And this time, I can feel it in my bones that it is the end of a certain chapter in my life.

Last week I met my brother Andrew out in the eastern north fork of Long Island, wine country. I have and will always cherish our friendship. There is a Bob Dylan lyric (get used to this readers, because I will probably use his lyrics to process what happens over in Armenia as well) that pretty much sums up the backbone of our relationship, "We always did feel the same, we just saw it from a different point of view". We spent the afternoon tasting delicious wines and soul-talking (as I like to call it). The conversation began at a cute bistro in Cutchogue for lunch, where we started with the future. What was my flight itinerary? 2014, eh? Have plans for you return before you do Carolyn, promise me. Eventually, we got to the past. We spoke of ugly and pretty moments we've shared, things we're not proud of and those that we are.

On the ride home, this wave of emotion hit me and I started to cry. Not because I was upset over the thought that we most likely won't see one another for two years and not because I am scared or sad to leave. It was a feeling that's somewhat new to me, but it's something which I am getting used to. It's gratitude and acceptance of where I've been and where I'm headed. On those back country roads with the sun beginning to set, I knew with not a single doubt that I'd made it. I got through the tough stuff, I climbed out of the quick sand and it is the most amazing feeling.

And now, I get to leave, like I've always wanted. I get to go out with my head held high, with my friends and family behind me. It is the most beautiful thing I've experienced thus far.

"So, why are you doing this?"

Last night I had my birthday/going away party at my parents home on Long Island. It was so wonderful to be surrounded my family members and close friends for an evening. It's been a wild year and last night was chalk full of surreal moments. It's been two years since I first applied to the Peace Corps and I want it more now than I did at first. Initially, my greatest motivation was escape. Now, I feel so determined to fully achieve this accomplishment. Getting nominated and later invited were feats within themselves, but to set out and get through the commitment is a whole different ball game.

Some of my parent's friends stopped by to say hello and have a drink. One of the ladies, whom has always been mildly blunt, walks straight over to me and says, "So, why are you doing this?" With little hesitation I responded, "It's an experience that I want." There you have it folks. I don't think I'm going to save the world, or that I'm some really awesome altruistic individual that sacrifices self to help others. I don't see myself that way at all. I am a human being with flaws, who is searching for meaningful connections. I have some already but, why not branch out in a completely unique and individual way?

I have this image in my head of what the Peace Corps experience will be for me. As my branches extend their reach, my roots will deepen and strengthen. In my growth, I will become more grounded. This is what I seek. I have some idea of what this will mean in fine print, but can't know truly until I arrive and start the journey. I remember being 21, directionless, and the Peace Corps crossing my mind as a possibility. I can't believe it's becoming an actuality with each nearing day. It doesn't matter that it took me this long, or that I'll be 27 by the time I get home. I am on my own timeline that doesn't line up with a lot of my peers, and that is ok. Where ever you are on your timeline is ok, too. Don't listen to anyone who ever told you you 'should' or 'need' to do, think, speak, or live in a certain way; because really, they just mean their way.  Chances are, their way won't work best for your growth.


It's funny, I got so many goodbye hugs and kisses and yet it STILL doesn't feel real.  Hopefully though, when I start to freak out (because I don't know when, but I know at some point it will happen) I'll think of all my proud friends and family back home cheering me on, smiling, singing, tears of love streaming down their faces. I'll remember all the moments of love and beauty from last night with a smile on my face and keep truckin'.

Counting Down The Days Until May 22nd

It's surprisingly not hard to believe that my departure is finally close at hand. When I first received my invitation back in October, I made a conscious decision to set aside all of my reading material until it was closer to May 22nd. When I was first nominated I had been told that, typically, an invitation comes 6-8 weeks (max) before your actual departure. So, I told myself I would become focused solely on Peace Corps / Armenia when the 8 week mark rolled around.

At the moment, it's about 5 weeks until my departure (eek!). I just returned from a lovely week long trip driving through the Irish country side with my mother. We went, we saw, we conquered. Two days before arriving home I received a PST (Pre-Service Training) related email. It contained a brief overview of the first couple days in Armenia. Once arriving in Yerevan, we are being put up in a hotel for three days before training begins. (It's funny - all of these small details were far from my consciousness beforehand and now they are fun pieces being added to the puzzle). There was also a sample schedule of a day in training. The days will be long and full, with hour long lunches with our host family. It will be a summer like none I've ever experienced. I'm wildly grateful for the last few summer weather days here on Long Island and have been enjoying them beach side.

 If you've been following along since I began blogging, it comes as no surprise that my mind has been elsewhere. Yet now, with the recent influx of information and waning days, there is little else I think about. Since being prompted to and then joining the Peace Corps Armenia Facebook group, I have spent a good amount of free time looking through the page. It's essentially an open forum where the A-20's (this is what my group of invitees has been dubbed, as we are the 20th PCV group) can ask current Armenian volunteers questions that our reading material has not answered. It's also given me the opportunity to stalk all of my future fellow volunteers- if you're reading this, yes I mean you. I couldn't believe it when I read that there will (most likely, if everyone shows up) be 46 invitees in the A-20 group. It's a lot more than I expected, but not all of those individuals are TEFL.

There are few words to describe how I feel about leaving. It's hard to believe almost two years ago, in June of 2010 with hours before the application deadline, I clicked the send button. Then, after my own procrastination and stubbornness, finally receiving medical clearance in July of 2011. When my invitation arrived in October of that year, I was so disappointed. I wanted to have left 3 months earlier. I wanted to be by the sea. Yet, I wasn't willing to let these *small* differences change my commitment and dedication to making this happen for myself.

Now, with spring in full bloom and my 25th birthday looming right before departure, I know that ultimately everything is as it was always going to be.  The journey before the adventure was as necessary as the adventure itself.

Purging

For the last couple of months I have been living back home with my parents in Babylon, NY. This week the roof was being entirely re-done, so last week we had to get the attic prepared for the 'demolition' (as the contractor and my mother were so very fond of saying). Most people accumulate a lot of objects that over time pile up in their attics. I often feel like we have a excessive amount of 'things'. I love her dearly and mean no harm when I say this, but my mother has trouble getting rid of objects with sentimental value and she could give a penny sentimental value. A good amount of the boxes were from my brother's and my childhood. I took the opportunity to go through all the keepsakes that have been collecting dust and purge a great majority of them.

It took some time getting through everything I had, because (and I hate to admit this) I too, have some trouble letting go of things. This is partly because I fascinate myself. I have written in journals for as long as I could put sentences together and hate to part with them. When I was packing for college, I brought with me journals from the last couple years. I say some pretty profound shit, if you hadn't realized that yet. I will often read old entries and can find humor in my omniscient attitude or downright absurd notions about life. Journal writing is such a constant, that I have at least one notebook and several pens on my person at all times. 

Saying that I am introspective is an understatement, obsessive is probably closer to the truth. I have been reflective my entire life, examining my feelings and trying to understand or 'figure out' those I'm surrounded by. This annoys most, especially if I hit the nail on the head. Over the weekend a close friend of mine, that is friends with not only myself but my brothers as well (and has been dating one of my very good friends for the last 8 or 9 years),  told me that I did this to him once. I (apparently) pointed out that he was depressed, or unsatisfied, with his current day to day. I don't recall this particular conversation, but it was significant enough to him that it's become a sort of emotional landmark. When recalling it, he explained that at the time it had seriously pissed him off. Who was I to make such a judgment? Now, he views it as the verbal wake up slap that was the beginning of a purposeful change. As you might imagine, I was ego-tripping on this piece of information for a solid 24 hrs. 

It is so easy to unconsciously slip into a routine that is seemingly not, but still unsatisfying. Even though depression is no longer the taboo that it once was, it's still not entirely acceptable or understood. Sometimes, you need to be told you are depressed before you consider it a possibility. Men in particular have trouble admitting or owning depression, as it's seen as being weak willed. Also, many people think being depressed means staying in bed all day, not spending time with friends, moping around twenty four seven and in general being a Debbie Downer. This is not always the case. My friend wasn't having this expected experience of depression. He was still spending time with friends, his girlfriend, doing the same old. Yet, he wasn't being challenged intellectually, and as an intelligent man, it was a necessary part of the equation. There was something missing and it kept him from feeling like his most complete self. His experience was not that everything seemed dull or that life wasn't worth living, but that there was a vacancy. This is often how I see or experience depression, which is probably why I recognized it in him.  

Case in point, the last year of my life. So much happened and changed in the course of one week last April, that the very overwhelming nature of it caused parts of myself to hibernate. My introspective self, the knowing voice that makes good decisions and is most authentic, was so deeply hurt that I simply ignored it. I went on auto-pilot, I wasn't sad, I didn't cry, I laughed with friends and went about my life. But I had nightmares, gained weight that I'd dutifully kept off for several years and developed pain in my body. It wasn't until I came home that there was no escaping the truth of how I was affected. At first, all that meant was stepping on the scale and looking in the mirror. The first step was seeing and then admitting it. I become so absorbed by the discomfort within my body, the pain was getting worse and I wasn't working out regularly. I had stomach pains for a month straight until I decided it was time to address these issues. It is only in the last two months that I've had the courage and strength to feel anything besides physical pain.

I started therapy again, started seeing a chiropractor with a holistic approach and getting acupuncture. Five weeks later and I am feeling so much lighter, seeing more clearly and crying like a baby regularly. 

But hey, how else am I supposed to purge? 

Back to the attic for a moment: While going through my boxes I found a notebook from 5th or 6th grade. As part of an exploration unit, we were asked to name people we thought would make good explorers and a reason why. Of course, I put myself on that list because, "No matter how far away from home, I will never be homesick". Oh Peace Corps, my love, my destiny! I await you eagerly!! 

Cold Feet

Yep, it's already happening, I might as well confront it. There has always been a part of me unsure if going into the Peace Corps is what's best for me. Eventually though, the voice that got me to apply in the first place gets back on the loud speaker. It says, "Are you for real? You're going to pass up this opportunity for a world you are already familiar and bored with? It's time. Go."

The very first time the icy tendrils crept up my toes was after I got nominated. I was with my family in Lake George for Labor Day weekend. My brother, cousin, their ladies and I were all camping on an island for the night. My conflicting feelings of joy and sorrow kept running through my head, so I decided to stay behind while the rest of the group went fishing. It was my duty to get a fire started before the sun went down and the chill set in. Something so simple as building a fire can be a needed ego gratifying experience. "I can provide this very important need for myself and others. I am skilled." But my somber mood persisted. I was beginning to realize what it would mean in reality to make the commitment. It left me feeling despondent in a way. I wouldn't get to watch my niece, Soleil, continually develop into a little girl. I would be alone and removed from things that are dear and precious to me, whether they be one noun or another. (Though, there a only a few 'things' that are dear and precious to me).

We had taken a radio with us and at some point the frequency had changed or cut out, leaving an oppressive silence. It was completely dark at this point; the fire and stillness of the lake had put me in a sort of trance. Then out of nowhere, the radio picked up a station again. Clear as a bell, Bob Dylan's whiny voice pierced the silence. It just so happened to be at the beginning of the last verse of "It's All Over Now, Baby Blue". The lyrics hit me with such force, it felt like he was speaking to me directly. I was unfamiliar with the tune before then, but now it has become a personal mantra. The lyrics of the last verse are:

Leave your stepping stones behind now, something it calls for you

Forget the dead you've left, they will not follow you

The vagabond who's rapping at your door

 Is standing in the clothes that you once wore

Strike another match, go start anew

And it's all over now, baby blue

 I have no idea what my life will be like in Armenia. The things I know of here,  are all I can truly have feelings about. In a perfect world, while in the Peace Corps, I could go visit friends and family whenever my heart desired, spend a weekend in Lake George, call a friend, or go to happy hour. But, the convenience and luxury of these things will need to be sacrificed for the experience. There are moments when wonder if I'm making the right choice. Thinking that maybe I should go the average route; start a career oriented job, settle into a place of my own. Finally get that kitten and puppy duo I've been dreaming of, and call it a day. I don't know, maybe I should. Yet, if I don't even try, there will always be the 'what if's' and regrets. I definitely do not want to live a life of regrets.