One of the Good Ones

A post about an Armenian that makes me feel like I can stay…

Admittedly, my posts have been infrequent as I find it difficult to put finger to key board and write happy things when I’m not happy. Winter has come and with it seasonal depression. I am homesick for my family (in all of their madness) around the holidays. I am sad that I will miss my niece’s 5^th birthday and it breaks my heart that she’s been asking me if I will come and visit her. Few people truly like winter and the constant roller coaster of emotions as a volunteer don’t help. Yet, today I am inspired to write about a person in my life who soothes my anxiety and makes me feel truly welcome.

Movsisyan in Siranush's house taken with Photobooth

The first time that I met Movsisyan (this is the name by which I know and refer to her but her first name is actually Satenik) was in Siranush’s kitchen during my very first visit to Malishka. I was having my first “ Oh my GOD, what have I done?!” moment as a Peace Corps trainee. The saint that she is, Siranush sensed this and ordered me to lay day and rest after an hour or so into our first meeting. When I finally summed up the courage to leave the room that was to become mine in a month or so, I headed straight for the kitchen. As I entered the kitchen, Movsisyan and Siranush momentarily stopped dinner preparation to welcome my arrival.

Movsisyan’s deep-set eyes examined me with a well-intentioned curiosity.  She reminded me of photographs of my maternal great grandmother with long salt and pepper hair pulled up into a tightly wound bun. Just as many other older women in Armenia, over the years she had collected a mouth full of shiny gold teeth. She pulled out a stool from under the table and ordered me to sit. She cleared an open space in front of me rearranging the surface crowded with peppers, tomatoes, onions, garlic, salt, pepper, sugar, coffee, miniature Turkish coffee cups and a large decorative glass bottle that I could only assume was filled with homemade vodka. Siranush placed in front of me a small cup of Turkish coffee, seemingly from out of nowhere.  I sat in silence, allowing the calm of the home’s hearth to wash over me in a dream like state.

“Do you like tomatoes?” Movsisyan inquired. “Yes, I like them very much,” I responded like a small child and not the 25-year-old woman that I was. “Good, because we are making a soup with tomatoes, potatoes and onions,” she stated. For the next twenty minutes I intently watched her prepare the meal with Siranush. Her hands moved methodically wielding the knife like an extension of her own body. Cutting boards are not something you can expect to be found in an Armenian kitchen. Using sharp knives half the size of an average utensil women hold the vegetable in one hand and cut with the other. Preparing food in this way comes so naturally that while I sat and watched Movsisyan’s hand, she stood watching me watch her. Every now and then our eyes would meet, her calm and piercing stare  reassuring me that I was okay and everything would be okay.

From the beginning I have appreciated Movsisyan’s ability to speak with her eyes. Not only does she speak with them, she analyzes, contemplates and understands with them as well. While I understand that this is true for most people she does it in a way that a spectator can notice. With all of the staring and looks that I endure on a daily basis you come to know all sorts of stares. The difference between a kind and a cruel one, one of judgment and another of compassion is evident. When she looks at you she is truly looking at you, drinking in all of your movements, expressions and reactions like a foreign cocktail. She swishes the combination of these things around in her mind deciding if it brings her pleasure or not. 

She was introduced to me as the family 'tatik' (grandmother) but I learned later that she in fact was not a blood relative. Armenians are quick to give friends family denotations whether it be ‘sister’, ‘brother’ or ‘grandma’ and ‘grandpa’. I also learned that Movsisyan was the ‘master’ (homeroom) teacher of the twin sisters Hasmik and Anna. She had been their ‘homeroom’ teacher since the third grade and the relationship is a different than that which we are accustomed to in America.  Your master teacher, if unchanged from the third until the 12^th grade becomes an equally respected, feared and loved figured as that of a parent. Movsisyan and Siranush became close when Siranush returned from her University studies in Yerevan during the ‘Dark Time’ to begin teaching Armenian language classes at the school. Being her senior by at least twenty years and an Armenian language teacher herself, Movsisyan took Siranush under her wing forging an invaluable relationship of trust and support.

I have forever felt grateful for both women extending this relationship toward me. Social politics at the school can at times be similar to walking a tight rope. One wrong move and then a long fall (hopefully) to your safety net. This past year at school has been particularly difficult for me in the social/political realm. A person whom at first meeting I was weary of has made a point of being an antagonist in my life. Details are unimportant but the presence of this individual is a thing I at once fear and dread. When things came to a head a little over a month ago it brought me to a new level of low concerning feelings of isolation and community integration.

In the school there is a small room tucked away on the second floor, far from the teacher’s lounge and Director’s office called the language cabinet. In it, the senior Armenian language teachers including Movsisyan and Siranush each their lunch, drink coffee, grade papers and socialize in there with the other language teachers. I have realized that when I first came to the school and Siranush told me to treat this room like it was a space for me as well that I wasn’t fully aware of the privilege that I had been afforded. This small cabinet has become my refuge in the school. It dawned on me one day that only Movsisyan and another elderly woman spent their free periods in there. It was clear to me that my counterparts did not feel it was appropriate for them to casually hang out in there, while that is exactly what I do.

As of late Movsisyan has been extra careful to make me feel included and cared for. If she is making herself a cup of coffee or tea, she makes one for me as well. If she has brought some cheese and lavash to snack on, she will make me a small wrap and tell me to eat. She never asks how I’m doing and yells at me when she doesn’t believe I am dressed warm enough. After being sick and missing school for a few days she inquired where I’d been and why I didn’t tell anyone I was sick because I can’t just let people sit around and worry that I’ve been stolen or got lost. All of these things combined have served to shine a bright spotlight onto Movsisyan’s kindness and her role in my life here.  To say it shortly, she means a lot to me and has been a huge influence on my time here. 

Movsisyan is one of the good ones and I love her for all that she provides me. 

Nothing But The Water

I have seen

What man can do

When the evil lives inside of you

Many are the weak and the strong are few

but with water, we'll start anew

Won't you take me down

to the levy

take me down

to the stream

take me down

to the water

We're gonna wash our souls clean

Take me down 

to the river

take me down 

to the lake

Yes, we'll all go together

We're gonna do it for the good lord's sake

I have fallen so many times

for the devil's sweet cunning rhymes

this old world has brought me pain

but there's hope for me again

Won't you take me down

to the levy

take me down

to the stream

take me down

to the water

We're gonna wash our souls clean

Take me down 

to the river

take me down 

to the lake

Yes, we'll all go together

We're gonna do it for the good lord's sake

I've tried my hand at the Bible

tried my hand at prayer

but now nothin' but the water

is gonna bring my soul to bear

but now nothin' but the water

is gonna bring my soul

to bear. 

Listen to "Nothing But the Water" by Grace Potter

Tsaghadzor

Hello my beloved followers, secret stalkers, lovers and friends. Yet another month (two!!) has passed by without a posting by yours truly. Just recently I was telling my Aunt Therese that I suppose I've been feeling uninspired as of late; that it just feels like the same-old, same-old. While that's true to a certain degree, it's not the entire truth. Before I update ya'll on thangs I'd first like to explain why I posted these song lyrics. 

About a month ago I had drafted this post, with these lyrics as you see them. I had just returned from my final All Volunteer conference in Tsaghadzor. The conference was scheduled over Halloween weekend so volunteers wanted to enjoy their time in the evening and this year a talent show was organized. For anyone who has known me for any length of time they will know how much I love performing for people, or no one at all it doesn't actually matter. Anyway, I never got around to officially signing up before the conference but I was in luck as not too many others had as well and the MC's opened up the floor for whomever felt inspired. I of course, could not pass down this opportunity. I hadn't prepared anything so I decided to sing the first song that came into my head. I also was inspired my friend Phi's performance (which you can watch here). The song carries a lot of meaning for her and while she was singing, the only song that felt appropriate to follow up with was 'Nothing But The Water' by Grace Potter. I strongly identify with this song and most of my family members and friends have already been forced to listen to it as I find it so powerful; but for those of you who have not please have a listen into the deep recesses of my psyche.

It feels a bit overwhelming to try and recount in great detail the goings-on of the last few months. There was some drama with my counterparts at the school but that situation was resolved and things are back to their usual  one part gratifying, two parts frustrating normalcy. Things that frustrate me at school are the general culture and atmosphere at the school. It's also frustrating that these things are still frustrating. One wants to believe that after being in a place for 20 months that they would become accustomed to attitudes and behaviors but I suppose some things are just immutable.

Frank in his spot.

I believe I mentioned previously that I was given a teenage kitty by my host father back in the middle of October. At first he was very scared and spent most of his time hiding under the bed or staying within five feet of my person. Now, 1.5 months later he insists on being held in some form or fashion at all moments of the day that I am not moving around (and sometimes even when I'm moving around.) It's heart warming to have this little animal be so obsessed with me. My favorite part about living with Frank is that each evening and morning he will crawl into the covers of my bed and curl up under my chin into my neck. I've had many cats in my life, but none that I've raised on my own and I've definitely turned him into the ultimate lover cuddle kitty. I like to complain about it to my friends but they all know how much I love it.

Thanksgiving crew

Once again this year I celebrated Thanksgiving in the southern most part of the country, Meghri. Last year we were at Tall Tom's place in a nearby village but this year my good friend David hosted us in his most energetically positive home. (Check out how close we were to the Iranian border here!) This Thanksgiving was quite possibly one of the most enjoyable in recent memory. David and Jessica planned a two day extravaganza of crafting and cooking. I was happy to arrive in Meghri a day early to have David and his house all to myself. I am not so sure that Frank agrees with this sentiment but I was sure to save him a kitty treat to serve him once returning from my four day vacation.

My metro stop

About a week ago my wood stove was finally installed. At the beginning of November my site-mate Elisabeth and I had purchased a total of six cubic meters of wood together. Her half was sent over to her nearby village of Shatin while the rest remained with me. At the time, I was still comfortable enough to have only my space heater on. Yet, just as in most of American right now- the last two weeks have been pretty chilly and snowy. I love having my wood stove but GOOD LORD is it a lot of work. I'm lucky enough to be familiar with starting fires in my parent's wood stove back in New York but I am working with the 1990 Toyota of a wood stove while they have a 2013 Cadillac. I am hoping that I will eventually get over the difference and learn to simply enjoy the fact that for the most part I am toasty and warm.

Marshutni ( in summer)

In other news, volunteers recently had a gathering in Yerevan to celebrate Christmas before folks started heading home for the holidays. It's incredible to me that this time last year I was at home, hanging out in my parent's hot tub imbibing all the best chilled white wines I could lay my hands on. I can NOT believe that was already one year ago. Throughout my time in Armenia it has never ceased to surprise me how fast time moves.

A bad decision

Anyway, the day after the party my other site-mate Rosie and I decided to travel back home together. Typically this drive takes about 2.5 hours and it takes around 30 minutes to get from the center of Yerevan to our bus stop. On my way over to the bus station it had been raining but by the time the marshutni (pictured left) departed there were already big fat snow flakes coming down at a good rate. I looked at Rosie saying, "It's going to be a long ride today." Little did I know that the particular marshutni we were seated in was in no way equipped to handle the weather conditions. The only reason we made it over the mountain was because after four hours a good samaritan in an Army Jeep towed us with a thick metal chain. The entire experience was at once exhausting, terrifying, hilarious and absurd. After 8 hours of traveling, I finally hopped off at the side of the road outside Malishka. Then I peed my pants, then once I got home I realized the power was out in the whole neighborhood, AND THEN I realized I had locked Frank's food and water in a separate room, explaining his erratic and disconcerting behavior upon my arrival home. Now, one might expect to cry in this situation out of frustration. I was in surivival mood though, making sure to change my pants, feed the cat and start a fire in the dark. Thank god for trusty flashlights! Just another day in Armenia, folks! You can read a more detailed account of our journey, written by Rosie here.

Saying goodbye to my dear friend, Marisa, a volunteer who ended her service early.

In other news: The latest winter fashion in Armenia is the classic peacoat. Half of the female teachers in school have recently purchased one and I'm glad to know that my trusty old grey guy has suddenly become fashionable once again. It's nice to wear something right once in a while.

Next On Carolyn's Blog: Christmas is Ruined!... It was a Christmas Miracle!!!

Shows I've been obsessively watching: Breaking Bad, Mad Men, Mob Wives and The Daily Show
A book I read: My Name Is Red by Orhan Pamuk
A Song I've been listening to: TKO Justin Timberlake

A quote: "I GOT YOUR DAD!!!!"

Hard Times Come, Hard Times Go

At this point in time, I have about 8 months left in my service. It occurred to me when I was posting Facebook pictures of the Areni Wine Festival two weekends ago that it was the last time I would be there. It's highly unlikely that I will ever attend another Areni Wine Festival. At the very least, I won't be gathering in the Field of Dreams with several other volunteers as the high sun moves west. And so,  I feel compelled to make the best out of what’s left before the time gets away from me. Yet, the following post is not going to be about the things that I know I will come to miss. I want to give a voice to my experience of hardships as a Peace Corps Armenia volunteer. I do it because it is the thing least spoken about publicly. I do it because I think shedding light on the difficult parts of volunteering is just as important as shining light on the positive ones.

I remember during my application process looking at an acquaintance’s pictures of the beginning of his service in Kazakhstan. While Armenia and Kazakhstan are not direct neighbors, they are in the same part of the post-soviet world. I recall seeing pictures of a television, cabinets, couches and rugs and I thought, “Are you kidding me? That’s not Peace Corps!” I was under the impression that hardship meant living in a hut under an oppressively hot sun. I thought Peace Corps was bare feet and eating with your hands. I thought it was reading by candlelight and going weeks without speaking to family or friends. That was what I wanted, that was what I felt I needed. I saw service as something cleansing, a sacrifice of values and luxury to get to the heart of life's meaning.

I definitely didn’t think that Peace Corps was electricity, Internet, a cell phone, or pizza and beers. I never imagined that I would become more self-conscious about the state of my clothes and the possibility of being seen without make-up in the Peace Corps than I had been in America. I wasn’t expecting to become obsessed with having as much privacy as possible, as opposed to spending time with people in my community or host family. I thought my heart was going to open, not close.

The reality that your expectations, your hopes and desires are probably not going to be met is hugely disappointing, even devastating. When does this realization come, if at all? I can’t speak for others but my moment of realization happened about ten months into my service. I had been feeling down and out for quite some time. I had been feeling confused and lost. I was angry a lot of the time. I felt isolated and misunderstood by anyone who wasn’t a fellow volunteer. There was so much I didn’t bother telling friends or family at home. They read my blog, they heard some stories but they could not imagine what it felt like. When I spoke to people back home it was to hear their voices, to smile at my niece and hear her high pitched giggle. It was to have a sense of normality, if only fleetingly. It was to not be gripped by the anger or anxiety I felt the rest of the time.

The moment this storm cloud, so to speak, moved on came while I was walking the Border2Border route in the month of June. Maybe it came from the strength I felt in my heart and bones, lungs and legs. Maybe it came from the beauty I was surrounded by and experiencing all day long. Because even though I was still being stared at and I was still not being understood fully, I inexplicably felt free. I remembered what freedom felt like in my heart and my head. I had been in a prison of my own fears and disappointments. I had been holding on to the idyll I had so badly wanted before arriving in Armenia. Over the course of that walk I was able to feel present and centered again.

As soon as I was done with the walk, I called my father asking him to fly me home at the end of the summer. I knew that if I was going to get through Year 2 in one whole, happy piece I was going to need to spend some time at the beach, and at my favorite place on earth - Lake George. At first, I felt somewhat ashamed of my decision. I felt weak for needing to go home FOR A SECOND TIME. Yet, as soon as I landed and was with friends the shame was gone. When I returned to Armenia, I knew I'd made the right decision for me. Sometimes as volunteers we get so caught up in this reality that in many ways we lose touch with actual reality. We tolerate treatment and behaviors that we would never stand for at home, in the name of respecting the culture and being a good volunteer. Sometimes this is healthy and appropriate but sometimes it's not, and it is SO difficult to know the difference between the two. 

What's my point here? I don't really know. It's not to complain and it's not to gain sympathy. It's to shed some light on the parts of being a volunteer that aren't so easy to articulate. It's so that if someone where to come across this blog while they're in their service, they know it's normal to feel unhappy. It's normal to be utterly frustrated and overwhelmed with the cultural differences. It doesn't make you a bad person, it doesn't make you a bad volunteer. It makes you a human being living in a place that you're not from, a place where you are constantly feeling the need to explain your self and answer for your country. It isn't easy and there are days I want to quit. But I won't, because the whole point in coming was to learn to live with discomfort in a healthy way. It was to see what I was made out of, and what I could endure.

And well shiiiiit, am I getting a lesson.

...and then sometimes you take the marshutnit home from Yerevan after a long night and the beauty of the country takes all of it away. You smile, because you know there's still room to grow and to love. 

Song Of The Week: Gin Wigmore- Happily Ever After

"Welcome Home! Btw, you need to move..."

Dearest Babies, Lovas and Friends,

It's been so long since we last spoke! I know Ari had her guest spot, but I have not sat down to share with you a tale or two in a over a month. I haven't taken this long of a hiatus in I don't know how long! You must forgive me as I was busy giving Ari the good 'ole Hayastani tour, then frolicking in the land of gold and honey, THEN some very unexpected housing upheavals. I have been trying to find the time/energy/will to write you all since I have been back but alas, it only came to pass now.

So, perhaps you are such an avid reader that I need not remind you of what was going on at the start of August but I fear the truth of the greater majority is that you do not have any clue nor do you care. Alas, a quick recap is needed. At the start of August I was wrapping up the grant completion report for this past National Poetry Recitation Contest and gathering together a team of volunteers to create a committee for the 2014 installment. Unfortunately, about two weeks after the first committee meeting the team lost its most valuable player as she decided to end her service early. Luckily, I have been able to keep the ball rolling without her, even though it just isn't quite the same. Expect more about the 2014 National Poetry Recitation Contest soon!

My time with Ari in the last two weeks of August was absolutely marvelous. It engendered a completely new lens through which I am currently viewing my service. While there are difficulties and challenges faced on a daily basis Armenia truly has a special place in my heart. From the comfort and love I share with my host family, to the beauty of the landscape, to the taxi drivers calling me their sister upon hearing my Armenian there was much I felt proud to show Ari. All these things and more began to take on a new shade of meaning. The thing I appreciated most about Ari's trip was our on-going in-depth conversation about the culture here. We did many a thing, met many a volunteer and spent our final night together on the green patch of grass in Yerevan until 2 a.m. waiting for out flight times.

On the morning of August 28th both Ari and I boarded flights back to JFK airport. Unfortanutely, our flights were booked about four months apart and we did not have the same itinerary. After a day of time travel I arrived in my beloved NY and was picked up by dear friend Meagan. The first thought I had upon exiting the baggage terminal was, "UGH, the freaking humidity!". I had truly forgotten the oppressive nature of late August heat in New York. Without hesitation Meagan and I headed over to the most reasonable sushi joint in Babylon. I thought I'd be a pal and take care of the check as she'd driven all the way out to pick me up. Good lord! America, can we please relax with the cost of a dinner out?! Jeez louise. In the morning I was very grateful to spend time with my other dear friend Kaitlin. In the bagel shop I exclaimed, "OMG, KAIT! LOOK! THEY HAVE ARIZONA ICED TEA IN HERE!!!!!", all the other normal Americans in the place looked at me like I was on drugs. I think I embarrassed Kaitlin a bit but after a lifetime of friendship this is merely something she has come to expect.

Lord, I could tell you every last detail of my trip home but it would truly take too long and I don't want to waste either of our time. The highlights of my vacation were as such : a most perfect beach day on Lake George swimming with my niece Soleil; docking the boat before a storm like a champ; gurlfrands and brothers camping; a night cap at The Point with MK and 'firsty'; a most perfect beach day on Long Island with Regina; mani pedis with Momma; a night out in Babylon full of ridiculousness; yet another beautiful day riding the Cross Island ferry to CT; good times with cousins; a tasty meal with brother Andrew and sister Tess; kitty snuggle fest; motorcycle rides in the night and day; last meal in America with seriously tasty mussels; the royal treatment to end it all perfectly. Whew, feels good to finally get that all out there. In all honesty, it was the perfect trip home and I am so glad I made the decision to do it.

After waking up for my connecting flight in the Paris airport with 30 seconds before the intended departure time, I safely arrived in Armenia. I headed over to my friend Ashley's apartment in a small village which sits directly outside Yerevan. The next morning my host father Samvell called me. I thought it was a kind 'Hey- welcome back!' but I shortly realized his phone call was so prompt due to necessity. The family whose house I'd been living in was set to return to Malishka in approximately 5 days. He explained that I had that same amount of time to leave the house. I was on such a high from America that I floated through this process as in a dream. I felt no rush to return to a place that was no longer my home so I instead visited my friend Phi at her somewhat new place.

Five days later, my site-mate Elisabeth and I packed up the OBSCENE amount of shit I have gathered since being out on my own, then into Samvel's car and later his house. I have been living back with my host family since September 16th.  There was a house which I fell in love with which wasn't approved about a week and a half ago. I don't want to remember the beautiful balcony there because it only makes me want to cry. Yet tomorrow I finally get to move into my new place. I will post pictures as soon as it's ready!

Songs Of The Month: Sara Lov - Frankie
The XX - Stars

A Guest Writer! (Also, my first visitor)

Hey Babies! I hope you're enjoying your last licks of summer, soaking up those rays and shameless wet breakfasts. The following post was written by my dear friend Arielle Schecter. I asked her if she wanted to write a guest post as I thoroughly enjoy her writing and also because it makes me feel special to do so. I haven't edited or altered anything beyond adding pictures to the narrative; it's pure Arielle! I will update ya'll on other happenings next time. Meanwhile, enjoy a fresh perspective!

8/21/13

Church, Yerevan 

We were in Yerevan yesterday and the day before. I jogged across a tall bridge yesterday morning, over and back, over and back. I pretended in my head that I was an elite athlete training for the Olympics, hoping the gawking men would understand my fiction and be proud for me. I don't think it worked.

There's a park underneath the bridge where smooching young people go at night, but not too late. Carolyn tells me that women in Armenia are virtuous, or they're considered 'bad girls'. I don't think you're allowed to be a combination of both. The men all have tattoos on their thumbflesh webs indicating blood type - a souvenir from army conscription.

Lots of women wear high heels here. Carolyn admits this doesn't make sense in the villages, where the roads are bad, but they do it anyway. That's why the old women have smushed-up feet and backs.

Yesterday we saw a radiant pregnant lady in a white dress. She walked with her cautious-looking spouse through a park near the biggest church in Armenia. I got dizzy just looking at the arched ceiling in there. Carolyn got propositioned by an elderly gent who at first scolded her for taking photos of a janitorial worker. "I think they think it's shameful to do that to her while she's doing that kind of work," Carolyn explained.

Piano, Yerevan

We lit orange vigil candles in a side room and walked over to the park, where a man in a striped shirt made conspicuous circles around us on his child-sized white and red mountain bike. We didn't like that, so we left for an outdoor cafe near a giant wading pool guarded by a set of honking black swans. There was also a piano made out of fake grass. I bought my niece a coloring book from a vendor who shook his calculator at me when I failed to understand the 200-dram (50-cent) price quote. I think people assume I'm Armenian not because I look like one but because they're not used to foreigners. I'm getting a lot of practice for my smile-and-nod routine.

As the Clouds Roll In, Lake Sevan

8/22/13
It rained yesterday at Lake Sevan. We sulked in a tented cafe while Euro-pop blared from the speakers. I think I had five espressos. A fly-covered dog tried to befriend Carolyn, but she wasn't having it. "He's probably dying," she pronounced.

I've already broken my watch and dropped a towel in a muddy puddle. Things are going well otherwise. Carolyn picked a rose flower from her yard to put on the table alongside the almonds, coffees, and German yogurt cups. She's on the phone planning a poetry recitation contest for her students. She's already informed me that if we wanted to smoke cigarettes or have a glass of wine while I'm here, we'd have to do these things in secret.

Carolyn and Dog, Lake Sevan

There is a pear tree in Carolyn's yard, and also one with figs. There is a nice view of the garden from the outhouse doorway.

Judging by Carolyn's stickered pantry items, olive oil is nearly three times more expensive than sunflower oil. Tomato paste is a popular Armenian cooking ingredient; it comes in large jars. The water tank suspended over the sink is a great conservation motivator.

The requested imports of peanut butter and Papermate Flair pens are displayed prominently in the kitchen. I've never seen Carolyn as excited as she was when we found pesto in the SAS grocery store in Yerevan. "You don't understand," she enthused. "This is unprecedented." I smiled encouragingly. "And tuna!" she almost shouted. "Ari, they have tuna!"

(I asked Ari if she wanted to wrap-up her post; she declined. I can not leave the post in the middle of the highway...so...this is where I say "To Be Continued" and you anxiously await the next episode!)

Busy Bee

This past week has been one of the more productive since the end of Border2Border. I am almost certain that the National Poetry Contest grant completion report is finished. I am keeping my fingers crossed though, as there's something new required every time I turn around. Meanwhile, I have gathered together a team of volunteers to start work on the 2014 Contest. I am so excited to take this project to the next level. As the chairperson (or Boss, as I like to refer to myself) I have the great pleasure of 'nay-ing' and 'yay-ing' ideas. I am going to give a big shout out to a fellow TEFL volunteer Erica Vendetti right now, as her professionalism and enthusiasm thus far has already greatly exceeded my expectations.  You should just see the meeting minutes she sent me yesterday...

Big Daddy Ararat in the background.

Over the next couple of weeks, things are going to start gearing up significantly. This year I am hoping to have the Poetry Context grant live by Thanksgiving. If you are thinking 'have the grant live - what does that mean?', let me explain. As a Peace Corps Volunteer I am not allowed to directly receive funds for projects. To get around this, there is a special grant opportunity (though the word 'grant' is misleading) which allows a volunteer to fund-raise officially through Peace Corps. Essentially, I write an almost identical grant application as the one which is not a fundraiser and it gets sent to both staff here in Armenia and in Washington, D.C. It is then either approved or not; when it is approved Headquarters will put it 'live' on their official website (where some of you may have visited for last year's project). From there, the volunteer is fully responsible for insuring that the money is raised. Friends, family and interested organizations can visit this temporary website to donate to the project. Only once the total amount of money is raised do the funds get handed over to the volunteer. Are we on the same page now? So like I was saying, I want that puppy live by Thanksgiving so that come Contest day there are no money problems.

Phi Baby Jan

The day before the A21 Swearing In Ceremony  I went on a day trip to Lake Sevan. I wasn't exactly prepared for swimming, so I had to suffer through this great yearning for a couple of hours while tanning on the shore line. On the way back to the city, there was a beautiful sunset hitting Mount Ararat. Unfortunately, I didn't have my good camera with me so please forgive the picture quality. I also got an opportunity to spend some time with my beloved friend, Phi. 

Cameron and I at a cafe in Yerevan.

Here in my region of Vayots Dzor, we officially have three new volunteers. There is both an older woman and young man in the nearby town of Vayk,  and another young woman in Yeghegnadzor with the existing volunteers. On Wednesday, they took the Peace Corps Oath and graduated from trainees to volunteers. As tradition, we all gathered at a cafe for drinks as a large group. Here is a picture of my new site-

mate and I... as you can tell we will get along fabulously.  

There is a lot of decision making to be had before my friend Ari arrives in country so that I can give her my complete undivided attention. She lands in Yerevan on Monday the 19th, only 10/11 days away! I am seriously looking forward to showing her around. GAH!

In other news, my dear friend Kaitlin was able to send out a letter, a very belated birthday card and a second beaded necklace that I will wear as a bracelet. I realized that of all the people very close to me, she is the only one I wasn't able to see when I was home back in December. In light of this fact, receiving mail from her means more to me. (Brittany, the same goes for you). I was happy to know that she's been reading the book I sent to her, 'Untethered Soul' - which my brother Andrew sent to me back in November. Coming home from the capital to find some love waiting for me was exactly what I needed.

We are always together in spirit!

One Month More Of Summer

With the month of July behind me, I look forward to the upcoming events of August. First on the agenda is the Swearing In ceremony for the incoming group of volunteers in a few days. Most of the current volunteers will travel to capital for this event. It will definitely be interesting to be a part of the audience this time around. I look forward to officially welcoming our new site-mates to the Vayots Dzor Region. I am looking forward to some fresh faces in the area and the official start of Year 2.

A few days after Swearing In, I will travel to my friend Branwen's site to help out with the sports camp that she has organized for the kids in her community. I am so excited about this day because I get to share basketball with Armenian children! Though I quit after 9th grade, I still love this game with a passion. Give me a good, fresh Spalding and I'm a happy girl. The plan is to teach them some fun drills, so everyone is moving all at once. I don't know if we'll be able to play an actual game... but it will be funny if it ends up happening. It might be something like the softball game back in April with Armenian men who had never touched a glove in their lives. All I will say is that it was more entertaining than any MLB game (especially a Mets game).

Then, on the 19th of August my dear friend Ari will arrive in Yerevan. Quick story about my friendship with the one and only Arielle Schecter. We met three years ago in Seattle, Washington during an AmeriCorps VISTA training. Like with all other large social gatherings - I slowly ease my way into finding like minded folks. At first, I like to sit back and watch people pretend with one another. This social phenomenon never ceases to amaze, and I imagine that as I get older and this trend continues, I will still continued to be entertained. Anyway, there I was in a large conference room of other 20-somethings who weren't quite ready for big real world jobs and opted instead for AmeriCorps.  I was keeping to myself and scanning the room for potential husbands as people flowed around me. One individual (gods bless their soul) struck up a conversation with me. Upon learning I was a New Yorker, they pointed at a young brunette across the room saying, "She's a New Yorker too." "Oh, really?" I responded, and promptly walked away to introduce myself.

From the moment we introduced ourselves, Ari and I spent the rest of the conference trading witty and sarcastic remarks about the shenanigans of events such as the one we were made to suffer through. Unfortunately, she was headed off for her year of service in New Orleans while my job was located in Boston. After three days we were both certain we would keep in touch, which has become a fact over the last three years. Since our time together in Seattle, Ari and I have only had two other opportunities to spend time together face to face. On both of those occasions, we were in New York. While I consider myself a New Yorker , in truth Ari is far more New York than I can ever claim to be. She grew up in the city, lives and breathes and knows the city.  The two times that we've had a chance to meet up, she took me to low key places she's familiar with. We sit, talk and laugh and there never seems to be enough time. Well now - there's going to be plenty.

Ari will be in Armenia for 9 nights and 10 days. I have lots of things in store for her and she's compatible for me in that she's going to go ride the Carolyn wave. Hopefully, by the end of our 10 days together we will have discovered more common interests and grown closer than before.

p.s. Ari is an amazing talented and entertaining writer. Read about her life happenings down in New Orleans here: http://arielleschecter.blogspot.com/ 

Quote Of The Week:

Me: "I watched a bug come to life for 8 hours the other day."
Country Director: "Okay..."
Site Mate: "So he was too big to be killed by the electric fly swatter?"
Me: "Yup. Anyway- it was fascinating. I wrote a poem about it."
Site Mate: "HA- what did it say."
Me: "Nothing- I'm lying. I didn't write a poem. But I did think about writing a poem. HEY! Have you guys every watched a cat stalk and kill a butterfly?"
Country Director: "I think I'm going to require more secondary projects..."

Summer Unplug-ish

Well, well, well. My efforts to remove myself from the outside are and were not as solid as originally planned. I never expected that the grant report I was working on would require so much communication with my advisors and supportive friends. Unfortunately, my version of Microsoft Office is not compatible with the format and therefore I had to travel into the capital where our Peace Corps Office is so that I could put all the required information into the form. There were some other complications and hiccups, plus the beer at lunch time helped none for motivation. I ended up staying at a friend's for the night so that I could finish work the next day. Now, all I need to do is collect all necessary documents and receipts and send that bad boy in to staff. Yay for a completed project!! (In case you were wondering, this report is for the National Poetry Contest that took place back in May).

While to my great embarrassment I have been checking Facebook and gmail daily, then yesterday I spent two hours gchatting with girlfriends at home, I still have been getting things done that I sought out to do when the Unplug was planned. Most important among those things is spending more time with community members here in Malishka. One of my goals for Year 2 is to spend more time socializing with Armenians, not saving my social hours for Americans. It will also continue helping my language along. Speaking of, I have had a lot of funny language incidents recently.

One came with my little boyfriends who will be in the 5th grade next year ( they have the naivete and energy of boys entering the 3rd grade in America...). My neighbor's son Tigran will come over my house nearly everyday and occasssionally his friend Eric will join him. They enjoy using my electric fly swatter and playing 21 questions. Typically, once I shoo them away they will come barreling up the stairs one last time, just for the thrill of getting yelled at when they reach the top. Once they're really on their way out, they will break roses off the bush in my front yard and shoot them into the kitchen window with Tigran's hand made bow and arrow; which I might add, is pretty impressive...now making me suspicious of who actually made it...anyway, I digress.

The boys love to meet other volunteers who come through town and were particularly infatuated with a boy from Chicago for his desirable good looks (blonde haired, blue eyed boys are admired by all for their Caucasian beauty) and athleticism. Last week, when Eric returned from a little vacation with his family, he and Tigran came for their usual visit. I hadn't seen Eric since the Border2Border team was staying at my house so we had a lot of catching up to do.

But first, a quick lesson in language. In Armenian, if you want to indicate that a person or thing is in a certain location, you add "oom" (ում) to the end of the place. For example, if I wanted to tell my family that I was in Yerevan, not Malishka I would say: "Yes Yerevanum em, hima. Malishkaum chem." (I am in Yerevan, now. I'm not in Malishka). Ok, hopefully you can understand that. I will now give a transcript of my conversation with Eric.

Eric: "Ms. Caroline - do you have a place in Chicago?"
Me: "In Chicago?" (Having not understand that 'chikagoyum', pronounced with a hard 'ch' sound instead of the 'sh' Americans use, was indicating in chicago, thinking instead that it was an object).
Eric: "Yea, you know - like your friends."
Me: "Uh, I don't know Eric."
Eric: "UGH, IN CHICAGO, DO YOU HAVE A PLACE? IN CHICAGO!? IN CHICAGO?!"
Me: "What is this word, I don't know this word 'chikagoyum'... what is it, can you explain?"
Tigran: "ERRRRIIIC, she doesn't understand. But she's from New York."
Me: (Beginning to pick up the gist) "Eric, are you asking me what state I'm from?"
Eric: "Yes. No. I mean, do you have a place in Chicago!?"
Tigran: "No, my brother, she is from New York. Her parents live there."
Eric: "Yea, brother, but does she have a place in Chicago?"
Tigran: "Oh my god, Eric, you're an idiot."
Me: "Ok, Eric, say this word again I will find out what you mean."
Eric: "Chi-ka-go-yum."
Me: "Alright, I'll ask someone."
Tigran: "Ms. Caroline, did you call Kevin yet? I want him to bring us an electric fly swatter like yours, so call him - okay? OKAY?!"
Me: "Yea... I don't know Tigran, maybe. Alright, goodbye youse, I have work to do."
Tigran and Eric: "AAAAAAAHHHHHHH GOODBYE( in English)!!!!!!", as they run out the door and down the stairs.


The next day I met with my student, Christine, who will travel to Texas on August 5th to stay and learn for one year in an American high school. I wanted to take her out for ice cream in Yeghegnadzor and catch up on lost time. If you remember, this is the Malishka gem that I've referred to in the past. She's incredibly intelligent and mature. Even though I am ten years older than her, I admire her in many different ways. On our way back to the village, I remembered my conversation with the boys and decided to ask her about what it meant. As I was trying to remember the exact way that Eric had pronounced it, I ended up using the soft 'sh' that as Americans we use in pronouncing Chicago. The moment it left my mouth, I realized the misunderstanding. Together, Christine and I laughed at this very simple word that got seriously lost in translation.

A couple of days later, my gas tank (with which I cook) emptied. I called my host father Samvell to take care of business, as he so loves. A few hours later he and his friend showed up, took the tank, called the electrician about my dying refrigerator and headed into town. They returned less than an hour later and then took me over to the host family's to do laundry. I was unexpectedly and pleasantly surprised to find Siranush's mother, two sister-in-laws and their beloved family friend Shushan all sitting around the table. I had arrived just in time to be fed (which, lets be honest, is always the case). I didn't realize how much I'd missed tatik's (grandmother's) cooking. When I was living with the family she'd come over a few times a month and cook us a meal. I haven't had her cooking since probably March. She was just as excited to see me as I was her, heating up the food and setting me a place at the table. She didn't sit down until I was totally situated.

Over the next two hours, I sat listening to the women laugh and trade stories. It reminded me of sitting around the table in my Nana's house in Rhode Island as a kid with my cousin, Sara. My mother and her sisters would relish in the company of one another. Sharing stories about their husbands, laughing so hard they cry, reminiscing about ridiculous times from their youth and just like the women at the table in Siranush's house forgetting for a while that they had an audience and talking about...adult subjects. It has been a long time since I sat around listening to my mother and her sisters laugh with one another. It didn't exactly make me homesick, as I simply felt grateful to be a part of a sisterhood like that once again.

It's moments like that when I forget that I am not 'one of them' and feel at home. It's moments like that, when I can see and understand why I am who I am. One of the things I appreciate most about being in Armenia is the very different colored lenses through which I am able to reflect on my life. In general, I am very introspective and reflect on all things that occur in my life, good or bad. I try to understand them fully and intricately. Often times I will be in the midst of a moment or experience here and suddenly memories will come to me, things that I have not thought about in forever. Not that they'd been forgotten, but that they had gotten lost in the mix of things. Generally, they are positive memories. Almost always the thought following the memory is something along the lines of, "God, at that point in time, I would have never imagined my life where it is today. At this table, with these women, in this language, and me - 26 years old. Ha. Weird."

I will continue with my unplug as planned until the 1st of August. Now that the bulk of the grant report work is finished I can sit back and relax. I picked up one of my favorite books, Forever by Pete Hamill, at the Peace Corps Office so I have something to occupy my time with. Some of you should expect letters in the mail, as I have been writing more of those than usual.

Alright my babies, back into my bubble I go. Tell yourself I said, "hi". Then, go buy a nice bottle of dry Sauvignon Blanc and drink it on my behalf. Stare at the stars and moon, and know I do the same every night.


Lovers youse

p.s. Can you (Phil, Crystal, Mom, Dad) give my baby Soleil a kiss for me? Tell her I miss her to death.

Summer Unplug

Today is Thursday, the fourth official day of  my summer unplug. Back in the Spring I had decided it would be good to give myself the sort of isolation/separation from other American folks that I originally desired when joining the Peace Corps. I recall talking to my boyfriend at the time about my mother expecting to speak with me weekly. I thought she was so out of touch for thinking this was a possibility. He told me that I should expect regular Internet access, and I thought he was also crazy.

Little did Carolyn know that they were both closer to reality than she. Yet none of us could have predicted that not only do I have access to the Internet at all times but I carry around a cell phone that almost always has service. The sole difference between how plugged-in I am here in Armenia versus America is that I don’t use a Smartphone. (Which definitely is a big difference when you consider all the ways a Smartphone can be utilized).  So, what’s the big problem?

The point I am making is that I still place value in spending more time in the present, whether it be while you are alone or when you are with others. Over the last month and a half I have spent most of my time with other Americans. While it was great meeting Armenians from all over the south of the country during the Border2Border walk, my social and downtime was only with other volunteers. I guess you could say I hit my point of capacity recently. While I was heading home from a weeklong conference with the group that I came here with back in May of 2012, the light bulb went off in my head, shouting: UNPLUG!

I was so excited to remember this intent, especially after the past few emotionally intense weeks. In fact, I was so excited that I nearly texted my friend just to tell him I wouldn’t be talking to him for three weeks. I realized that seemed odd, so I waited until I was back in Malishka to send out an email to friends that I am in touch with a few times or more a week just so they knew that I was turning off my phone and did not intend to check my email. I Skyped my parents, my brother Andrew and friend Raivis just to get some last licks and tell them what was going on so that they didn’t become concerned when our Sunday skype sesh didn’t happen the next two weeks. (Speaking of, ya’ll make my Sundays with those calls). 

Monday I kept myself busy cleaning the house to prepare for the upcoming long and slows days that I knew would be a result of the unplug. I am well versed in summer uplugs. My family’s home in Lake George, New York has been without reliable Internet and cell phone access forever. (Though, there is now access to these things it just feels wrong using them). Ever since I was in high school and could appreciate what it meant to be away from a computer I have always looked forward to my time at the lake to unplug. It’s so nice not feeling that you need to answer emails or check your phone every 30 seconds to make sure you haven’t missed a call, Facebook notification, text message or forwarded email. 

While I have used my phone and the Internet, it has not been for American social purposes. I made plans with the student from my village (do you remember that post about my ‘gem’?) who will fly to America on August 5^th to spend a year as a transfer student at an American high school in Texas. I made plans with my counterpart to go visit her tomorrow and of course have been in touch with my host family.

The rules are as such:

No calling/texting Americans (exception: birthday phone calls)

Phone is on only to make outgoing calls, then is switched off

Facebook is only for contacting Armenians; check/send the message – get off

You are allowed to post on the blog (but not obsessively check your stats)

You are allowed to return phone calls to your country Director

You are allowed to get needed work information

You are allowed to make plans to visit someone or for someone to visit you

You are allowed to watch a television program or movie only if:

            You have journalled

            You have practiced yoga / ran/ walked

Quotes Of The Week:

“I am SO happy you now know that there’s still time for you to fill out the survey, Ms. Rodgers!”

“Am I supposed to know what that means by the words you said?”

“Right now, I’m like a 6 but when I arrive I’ll be about an 8.5. You need to confirm that later, okay?”

“Can I ask you a personal question?”

“WHAT IS THIS?  I MUST PAY MORE THAN $20 A MONTH TO RENT AN APARTMENT!?” (Expectation to re-adjusting to American life)

“Ah – that was nice.”

“What, making a man cry?”

“No man, being in love.”

Songs Of The Week:

Gravel – Ani Difranco

Hyperballad- Bjork

Green Light- Florence + The Machine 

Summertime And The Livin's Easy

Hey There Beautiful/Handsome!

I hope you got your groove on just as I did this past 4th of July. The celebration with my site mates this year blew last year's out of the water. That probably has to do with the fact that we got to call all of the shots. Elisabeth and I put together a traditional American style BBQ, complete with tasty cheeseburgers, pasta salad, beers, chocolate chip cookies, watermelon and my first ever brownies from scratch. I thoroughly enjoyed both preparing for the get-together and the time spent with my site mates - new and old.

Last week, the three volunteers that will officially become Peace Corps Volunteers six weeks from now and then move to Vayots Dzor (the region of Armenia in which I currently reside) were here for four nights. If you have been following my blog since its birth then perhaps you remember my 'site visit' to Malishka. It was the first time Peace Corps felt real, and my first experience without the Peace Corps training wheels. Site visit can be many things, but my current site mates and I made it a point to insure that the new volunteers' visit was memorable in a positive way. Hence, the BBQ Liz and I planned together. After stuffing our faces and sharing a few good laughs, we sent the newbies on their merry way and Lauren, Liz and I got down to business. And by business, I mean a well needed girls-only dance party.

The next day our honorary PCV, Lucy (a Fullbright) came down to stay with Liz and I for the night. She and Liz put together a nice pasta dinner with a tasty homemade alla vodka sauce, the first I've had since being in Armenia ( or possible ever, I don't really think I've ever had homemade alla vodka...). Afterwards, we watched 'Grave Encounters' in the dark, dead of the night. It was both hilarious and thrilling in that thriller/suspense way only bad scary movies can be. The next morning I helped Lucy get on her way down to Kapan. She is in the process of seeing what she can of Armenia before ending her time here and heading back to America. It's been a delight having her here during my service and I look forward to meeting again Stateside.

Later that afternoon, I left Liz at home to meet up with the newbies and my current sitemates. Together we headed down to the river outside of Yeghegnadzor. There is no direct road down to the river and on our way there we had a few hiccups. The final one, was my, Lauren and Rosie's attempt to wade down the river with our backpacks on. Considering I had my speakers and good headphones on me, this maybe wasn't the most well thought-out idea. A half hour or so later we finally met the guys down near the bridge where there is a place to sit around and lounge. Lauren and I decided to get in the water and go for a little swim. She suggested that we ride the current downstream and see where it took us (as least I think that was her suggestion). Lauren is from Colorado and has had far more experience with rivers than oceans, where I am the opposite. Before I knew what was happening I was being pulled quickly downstream. Luckily, I do have faith that I am a strong swimmer so I didn't panic. Yet, I can easily see that having gone in a much worse direction had I not the faith in myself as I do. That shit was no joke!

Good lord! Do I trust the ocean, know the ocean and miss the ocean with all my heart. Sigh.

That same evening, back at home, Liz and I had laid down for bed with a movie on. Around 10:30 she stepped outside for a pee break and heard someone coming up the stairs (but couldn't see him). He heard her and they both stopped. "Carol?", he called out. She came scampering inside saying, "Carolyn - there's a man at your house!" So I ran and grabbed my coverup, then went outside with a hammering heart. "Alo?" I called. "Carol?" my landlord responded. While I was able to exhale, it was still a little disconcerting and took me a second or two to regain my senses. I continued down the steps and asked him what was up. "Look at the bees!" he declared. A week earlier, it had become clear that some bees had made a hive in the outdoor couch downstairs. That evening he had come over to kill them. The hive was about a foot by a foot. An hour and a half later he called for me again- and very proudly presented the massacred hive. I went to bed happy that I no longer had a bee problem nor a man-killing-bugs problem.

The very next day was a children's holiday here in Armenia called Vardavar, or "Water's Day". Essentially, children spend the day outside dousing each other with buckets of water. Last year I did not participate in the festivities - and no I don't have a good reason. But this year - I had Liz with me to join in on the fun. For about an hour we played with the neighborhood kids. I had a really good time and am glad that I let my hair down for a day with the kids.

Tomorrow I will go to Yerevan for yet another, lovely, Peace Corps training/conference. Then on Saturday I will spend the day with my beloved Brian Bokhart, before he leaves the country for good. I am going to miss him to the moon- but more on that next post. My eye lids are beginning to shut and the bugs are driving me crazy!


Songs Of The Week: 'The Sun' The Naked and Famous
                                  'Back To Black' Beyonce & Andre 3000

Quotes Of The Week: "MARIAH!"

Border2Border Part III: How Do You Say Hostess In Armenian?

That is the question I asked my host mother Siranush, as I continued to kill time at her house - hiding from my guests. I am lucky to have someone like her, because nearly 100% of the time our natural ability to understand and communicate with one another always leads to the word I am seeking. Our conversation went something like this:

"Carol-jan, are you hungry?"
"Yes, very much so."
"Sit down, I made your favorite."
"I love you Siranush."
"Oh, Carol."
"So, I have all these people at the house right now. What does that make me?"
"I don't understand you."
"Ok, I have guests, right? So then, I am...what?"
"Carol, I don't understand."
"Ok, ok. When you have children you are a mother, when you have guests you are..."
"A hostess! Hahaha, oh Carol-jan."
"Yes! This word! I am a bad hostess."
"Ha, carol, carol, carol. Why are you bad?"
"Because, I am always trying to leave the house."
"Ahhh, whatever. Sit, relax, eat your lunch and take your time. Let them work in your garden for five days - who cares? Come here everyday."
"Yeah, I probably will."

Brotherhood (Malishka)

   The morning of June 20th, I departed from Sisian and soon arrived in Malishka. Once home, I realized my landlord had turned my water off. I called him, he said he would be over in an hour...that turned into four. Meanwhile I walked in circles around the house, throwing away the food that went bad in the refrigerator because it had turned itself off at some point.  I was smart enough to leave myself some eggs, but didn't have much of an appetite. I decided to finally do some redecorating in my living room, pulling out letters, postcards and pictures. I thought I would make something pretty in my free time before the group's arrival.

The next morning was pretty rainy and cloudy. I was happy to be in my house, and not out there battling the forces of nature. Without much thought I sent a text message to Lauren, letting her know that if the group wanted they could come a day early. I was thinking that two nights with everyone was 100% doable. A little later she called me, and asked that I check weather. It was around 10 a.m. and they hadn't yet moved from the so-called shelter of an abandoned building they sought the night before. The forecast wasn't' looking too good for the next day and a half. I jokingly mentioned that it was going to be 80's in Malishka the next day. I told Lauren to let me know what they were going to decide. About a half an hour later I got a phone, explaining that while they 'weren't proud' everyone wanted to come to 'Florida'. ( I secretly believe that their missing of me was too much to bear, and the weather a convenient excuse).

Do you not realize I have a knife in my hand?

I called my host father, Samvell, to help me figure out how to get taxis to the middle of nowhere and back to Malishka. Without a moment's hesitation he decided that together we would go rescue my friends from the rain. A little while later we were on our way with another car in tow. They turned out to be an hours drive from my house. Once we picked them up, we stopped in the town of Vayk (where two new volunteers are bound in August!) to grab food stuffs.

Meg is a boss.

Kevin plays human knot with my babes!

Once in Malishka, I promptly began politely barking rules. No shoes in the house; wear these shoes in the out house, smoke outside, smoke outside and use this ashtray, no luggage/clothes/dirty socks/
basicallyanythingbutmyshitandyoursleepingbags in the living/bedroom; if you cook you don't clean; if you're not cooking or helping to prepare the meal you better be doing something useful; we do not fall asleep with the t.v. on; limit your peanut butter intake; morning voices until I say; there's organic and non organic trash- do not confuse them; this is the pee bucket- do not cook with it...and so on and so forth.

First dinner on the 'patio'.

After everyone was fed and beveraged, I took off for my host family's house. They'd told me a letter had arrived while I was gone. I love receiving letters and it was a convenient excuse to escape. I told everyone I would be gone for 30 minutes, I returned 3 hours later. At my family's I caught up, told them how I wanted to prepare for B2B in Malishka. Samvell and I drank his wine, and then he remembered the letter. When I looked at the return address my draw dropped. I had forgotten writing this individual at all. I crumbled up the letter and put it in my pocket. Samvell gave me a funny look, and gestured ' What the f?' I laughed, and explained I wasn't ready to see what was inside.

I had purposefully left my phone back at the house so no one could call me while I was gone. Once I waltzed back into the door, the gang was already laying down for bed. I informed them that I had a letter, grabbed a cigarette and shut the front door behind me. Afterwards, I crawled into bed with Lauren and began reciting lines from the letter. "Dear Carolyn," followed by insane laughter.

Putting the boys to work.

The next morning I woke at 5:30am and decided this was an opportune time to clean and organize all the packs, hanging the wet tents etc before anyone else got up. About two hours later Lauren and Kevin woke up and enjoyed the last of the American coffee my dear cousin Regina had sent me. We had a full beautiful day ahead of us and that afternoon Kevin, Jesse and I worked in the garden gathering berries, clearing a patio space and loads of other things. That evening we enjoyed our first meal out on the patio, then later prepared the berries to be turned into wine. I had quite the time mashing them up with my feet. When the boys and I decided to embark on the endeavor in the early afternoon, I had no idea what a long process it would actually end up being. Hopefully in a few weeks I will report that it was worth all the effort.

B2B in Malishka!

The next day, the gang left to teach in Vayk early while I stayed behind. I wanted to clean the house again, bring laundry over to my family's house and shower there as well. Once back in Malishka, the team headed to the river for some swimming and I stayed behind to begin preparing dinner. I had been looking forward to making them cookies and eggplant parmesan since the beginning of B2B. The next morning, we had the Malishka edition of Border2Border. Our Peace Corps Country Director came out for the day to watch and visit my village. We had a huge turnout and it was so awesome to see all my little babies again. I had four of my most responsible girls come and be our team teachers, and it was great to see them as well (two of whom are my host twin sisters). Afterwards, Siranush invited us all over to the house for coffee and treats, which in the end turned into a full blown meal.

From Left: Hasmik, Tsoghik, Me, Anna, Christine

It was only then that I took a big sigh of relief. My part was totally done! Now, I could just lean back, kick my feet up and watch. The next day the team in the North arrived in Yeghegnadzor. Again, I let the group go ahead as I wanted some decompression time to myself. I met them all for dinner a few hours later and was elated to see some of my closest friends for the first time in over a month! After dinner, we all grabbed some food and headed back to the house. I had switched up some of my guests, taking all my best friends from the North Team into my home. The end of their route was rough like the beginning of our route had been.

South Team and my family.

The next morning we set out for the finale. The teams taught (sans yours truly) together for the 87 kids that showed up that day. Afterwards, we had a small get together at a nearby restaurant where we watched a slideshow of all the pictures that had been taken. Everybody was pretty tired, so we all headed home to relax shortly thereafter.

I must admit, the end of B2B felt anti-climatic. I was so focused on getting things together in Malishka, and staying in one piece (peacefully) while hosting six people for a week that the 'finale' seemed sort of irrelevant. It felt like the whole shebang wasn't done until my eventual return back to site after going up to Yerevan for Site Announcement. Site Announcement is where the current trainees learn of their permanent site. All current volunteers go for the big announcement and then hang out afterwards.   It was great finding out who will be joining our little Club Yegh family come August. We are getting three new volunteers, a young man and woman, and an older woman. It'll be interesting to see the ways in which the dynamic changes...


Yay! I am done! It is done! A huge thanks from the soft part of my heart needs to go to Siranush and Samvell (my host parents, for all the favors they do with nothing asked in return), Phi ( my unwavering source of love and support),  Brian Bokhart (kisses when I ask), Meg McGinty ( Irish twin sister, agape love), Marisa Mitchell (nobullshittoughlove), David Corsar ( garden talks, dance raging, reading my mind ALWAYS),  and most importantly Andrew Rodga ( the voice I need at 5am).


And now, let normal life resume...