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

Border2Border Part II: Becoming A 'Family', The Decision To Stay

Part 2: Kapan to Sisian

On the 6th morning of our adventure, we set out for an expected hike approximately 30 kilometers out of Kapan. Due to some delays, it wasn't until noon time that we walked out of Kapan. As we were making our way out of the city I got an unexpected phone call from my father. It's unusual for him to call me at that time of day, so I became a little worried. My fear was soon met with expected sorrow, as I learned of a yet another family member's death. Since my arrival in Armenia last May a total of 5 people, with varying degrees of separation and blood connection, have gone from this world. While I was not close with the young woman who passed away, my father and her father are first cousins with a close relationship. Uncle Richie, as I know him - played a small role in offering help to get me through the medical portion of the application process. It's never easy to learn of someone else's sorrow and that day I spent a good portion of the trek alone, contemplating the oddities and non-coincidences in life.

This was one of our hottest walks, and I was seriously grateful that my pseudo-grandmother, Marisa,  had made sure to fill my belly before I set out that morning. As a group we decided to take a long break on the side of the road in the only shade we could find. Everyone was profusely sweating, hot, tired and exhausted within our first break. We continued on, taking another long lunch break down by a river. At some point along the way, it became obvious that we had taken the wrong road. In Armenia, this is no small defeat. Our only choice was to continue walking to insure finding water as we were running dangerously low. Around 5pm, we convened outside of a small store in an even smaller village. Everyone was done for the day, and as a group we decided our only choice to get back on track was to take taxi cabs to the place we were supposed to be at the end of the walk that day.

We found a place that looked quasi-suitable and continued to walk another mile or two until finding our camp site for the evening. After setting up the tents, the boys promptly got to making a fire over which to grill our remaining vegetables. Soon after, thanks to Uncle Tender Breath (Kevin), the fire was burning strong. We had a lot of good laughs around the fire, while being eaten alive by the bugs. With not much sleep under our belts, we set out an hour later than expected at about 8 or 8:30pm for Tatev. This was by far my favorite walk throughout the whole trip. We had tree cover and soft dirt roads for the majority of the walk. Once out of this seeming forest, we came to a small town where our most valuable team member that day- Jesse found some children to figure which road we needed to be taking. A little ways outside of this village, we made the group decision to take naps during the heat of the day.

   Afterwards, we continued the journey and soon began to see what we could only assume was Tatev off in the distance. With our destination in site, our bodies and minds began to prepare for rest. This can be a dangerous thing when you find that you don't actually know which road to take when it forks. People get cranky after walking all day, to feel that while the end is in site... there's no end in site. It was at this moment that I called my friend Brian Bokhart for some confirmation about where we were and where we were headed. He walked last year and alleviated our frustration and near hopelessness by assuring us that we were where we needed to be and would eventually reach our destination (though how much longer until than was unclear). Jesse again, sought out an Armenian to confirm the right way. It was here that we did some off-roading and took the path less beaten. All I will say is that basically no one was smiling as they entered Tatev.

Yet, once we had cold beers and fresh food in our bellies - we were all smiles and laughter. It was at this restaurant that a wide assortment of inside jokes were born. We became our little family; with Uncles Cool Jesse and Tender Breath, the Irish Twins, the Middle Sister, and the Big/Little Sister. Apparently, we don't have parents. We were even more elated to be informed that it was no problem that we sleep on the grounds of the Tatev Monastery, one of the most important monument/tourist attractions in the country. That night, I fell asleep under a star saturated sky. In the morning we taught at the local school. Afterwards we bought some goods from the vendors and loaded the longest cable car in the world. The trip itself lasts around 12 minutes. We got to see the road we were avoiding walking, and an abandoned monastery that had been totally taken over by various greens. The walk to our next generation was very short and along the way, the group was met by some very enthusiastic Armenians that wanted a picture with us. (Because of a perhaps somber mood, I was not with everyone when this occurred but watched with entertainment at the event from down the road). We arrived in our teammate Branwen's village of Shinohayer sometime in the afternoon. The group promptly split up to pick up goods for dinner.

That evening our final team member, Meewa, joined us at Branwen's apartment. She was meant to be my replacement, as I had intended to finish my stint with the group at the next location, in Goris. It was in Shinohayer that I began to seriously consider staying. The team was so bonded and I had nothing except free time waiting for me back in Malishka. I knew that our most strenuous walk was coming up right after Goris. Also, the fact that I could lay low during teaching days now that Meewa had replaced me was also pretty appealing. With this in mind, we went over to Branwen's school in the late morning to teach the kids. Afterwards, we went back to her place for more time. That night I spoke to my family for the first time since being on the trip. It was then that I realized I wanted to stay on with the team. I was really enjoying my time with everyone and felt like I was quitting before the big game. I am a team player until the end.

The next morning we set out early for Goris, expecting a much longer walk than the one that was had. I checked in with our team captain and my sitemate, Lauren, about staying on with the group. I  consulted everyone else on the team, making sure that I was still welcome. Knowing me and my big personality - I wanted to make sure that no one was sick of me yet, before inviting myself to continue on.  Luckily, they claimed not to be and so it was settled - I was going to stay on for three extra days. This way, I have four days to prepare for the teams arrival in Malishka.

That afternoon we arrived in Goris. It was decided that the schedule would be changed and we would only be in town for one night, not two. We taught that same afternoon, and slept in the teacher's lounge that evening. Everyone was mentally preparing for the 27 kilometer walk that we had ahead of us. Unfortunately that night I didn't sleep very well - which I suppose is true for the majority of the trip. In particular though, I remember this night. It was rather inconvenient. At 6am, the taxis which would take all but two packs arrived at the school. By 6:45am we were out the door, hoping to hack off a good chunk of the walk before the heat of the day.

That day we walked ten hours in the blistering sun. I got a sun rash on my arms and legs, that faded over night but was uncomfortable. During the walk, we ran into a small grandmother who offered us cold water and coffee. It turned out that she was one of Lauren's University student's grandmother. At this point, we were a solid 3 hour ride from the University where Lauren works. It was a nice coincidence, a moment along the road that breaks things up and helps you keep going. Another nice breaking up of the walk occurred when we ran into a large cattle of sheep, their herders, horses and large cattle dogs.  We walked with them for some time and then eventually sat down for a lunch break. A little while later, that herd and ran into one another around us. One herd on the the road, the other to our backs in the field. The dogs were going absolutely nuts, the sheep where bah-ing their damn heads off and as if on cue an convoy of army trucks filled with soldiers drove past, blaring their horns at the herd. Once this scene out of a bad movie passed, we all promptly fell asleep on the side of road, under the hot sun.

By the time we made it outside of Sisian, I was lasting on pure will power alone. I was in some sort of yogic trance for the last hour as I focused on lengthening my spine and rolling back my shoulders. I was concentrating on my gait as if my life depended upon, because if I thought about how hot, thirsty and achey I was, I knew I was done for the day. Finally, the team made it to the Basen Hotel in Sisian. There we took pictures of our disgusting feet, had the best tasting meal in days and went to sleep shortly thereafter. For the first time since Kapan, I was able to lounge both during and after my shower in a state of utter exhaustion.

The next day we had our very first rest day with no walking or teaching on the agenda. We took advantage of this state of affairs and headed to a nearby lake with our favorite game, Bananagrams, some cold beverages and good humor. We hung out for the afternoon, swimming, trying to fix our horrid tan lines and playing the game. That evening everyone did their own thing, with Meg and Lauren back at Lauren's place and Kevin and I grabbing a hot dinner at a nearby restaurant. The next morning we taught at School No. 3 in Sisian, with a relatively good turnout thanks to Lauren, Meg and Meg's friend Hasmik. That evening I made dinner for the gang at Meg's and we headed back to the hotel. In the morning, I didn't have a chance to say goodbye to everyone as the taxi came even earlier than the planned 8am arrival. With an empty stomach and a craving for coffee, I left the team behind to carry on their merry way.

I admit, the silence and sudden lack of movement in the day was not an easy adjustment. I slept for most of the afternoon, checked some emails and sent a text or two to the team to see how they were doing. I missed them and almost wished I was still with them, except for the great calm that had come over me since returning back into my little oasis. Little did I know that our eventual reunion was short coming...

What's In Your Head?

Today is Army Day in Armenia, so there is no school and banks, etc are closed. Over the weekend, I traveled to the capital to do some business, and also for our book club. This was the book club's first meeting, so I was looking forward to seeing how Peace Corps staff lives and also to have a relaxing evening.

Luckily, I was able to do just that the night of the book club. The Assistant Director of the country was hosting and some of us stayed the night at her place, as opposed to a hostel. When everyone was winding down, she told us of the jacuzzi bath located in the guest room. I made a swift move to be the first person indulging in such a luxury. She had epsom salt, lavendar essentials oils and the whole bit! I felt like I was home and it was truly wonderful. I am such a hedonist, that I took yet another 45 minute bath the next morning.

While I was living in Boston in the winter of 2011, and in the midst of the application process, I was fortunate enough to have a clawfoot tub located in the bathroom right off of my room. I would spend the majority of my weekend in there, singing on the top of my lungs, incense burning, drinking chilled white wine and what ever else. After one such occasion, I sauntered into the living room, probably still in my bathrobe, flushed in the face from the heat and plopped down onto the couch with an audible sigh of contentment. My roommate looked at me and teasingly asked, "How are you going to live without the bath tub Carolyn?" I didn't have an answer for him at the time; so we laughed together about the multitude of indulgences I would have to give up upon entering the Peace Corps.

I don't know if he reads this blog, but if he does I would say to him, "Nah Nah!" At this moment, there are three baths in this country with my name on them. One right in the town next to me (this is a new development), my friend Chris up North's, and now the most prized one of all that I must wait until the 1st weekend in March to lounge in once again.

In other news, I found out this weekend that young Armenians are really into The Cranberries, particularly the song 'Zombie'. That was probably the highlight (besides the bath) of my weekend. Also, the search is still on for a house - no luck yet. And nearly all of the snow has melted, its stayed between 40 and 50 degrees in the day! Fingers crossed that the winter stays this mild!

I miss all my babies at home, in particular the four year old.

Quote of the Week: "There are alotta weird things to think about in this country." Tommy Ransdell
Song of the Week: The Cranberries 'Linger'

The Road Taken

The Peace Corps road is full of unexpected twists and turns. Flexibility is rightfully spoken about throughout the application process, for this very reason. To say this is an emotional roller coaster is an understatement. Every time I sit down to record the most recent happenings in my yellow leather bound journal ( I'm a very important person, I have many leather bound books), I find myself overwhelmed trying to simply recall the last five or seven days. It seems whole months pass from one weekend to the next. A lot happens that needs noting and I struggle to remember it all.

And yet, one time, I received a response email that I'd completely forgotten about writing. I thought to myself, "Oh right, that was a few days ago." When I looked at the time stamp from my original email, it had been 12 freaking days before. Being in Peace Corps is sort of like being high all day, every day... not to say I know anything about that. I've read many studies. From my leather bound books. While smoking a cigar. But, ummmmm yeah -right- like I was saying; Studies have shown that the active chemical component of marijuana affects our sense of time. Users report feeling time either slowed down or sped up, and their short term memory is temporarily affected. This pretty much sums up my life. A good example of this 'stoned' (as the kids like to say) feeling is the last few days of my life here in Armenia.

Typically, by Wednesday of the school week I hate everyone and can't wait to pass my day off (Thursday) alone, farting in my room. (Clears throat). What I meant to say was, I love everyone all the time and go to school on my off day because I can't stand to be away from the children. Regardless, Thursday I get to have a late morning, which means I can stay up as late as 10 p.m. the night before! YOWZA!! In the day I will do some school and personal inventory, do my laundry, clean my room, etc. In the afternoon I have club for the Sr. High girls and my diamond in the rough comes for tutoring at the house around 5:30. Recently, I've been walking her home, as it's dusk by the time we are finished and this time I finally agreed to come inside. I met her grandparents and spent quality time with her mother and brother. We had some tea and fruit, talked about various topics and I left soon after. My student and her mother insisted they then walk ME home, as it was fully night by that time. It was a beautiful starry night, with a new crescent moon shinning; and also the first time I was out walking around after dark since being in Malishka.

Once home, I sat down to eat dinner by myself and enjoy a glass of wine. Siranush eventually came to join me, as she can not guiltlessly allow me to eat dinner alone. Everybody has started making their homemade wine, including my host dad. He realized I was in the drinking mood, so he joined us at the table and broke out the good stuff. His most recent batch was so strong, it tasted closer to hard liquor than wine. We had a grand old time and got to a new level of understanding and respect for one another (which often happens in non-party drinking situations). I was able to ask him important questions like, "What do you want for your daughters' lives?", and, "Can the cat PLEASE sleep in my bed with me?" By the time I retired to my sleeping quarters, I was shocked to discover that it was after midnight! How unlike me, on a weekday no less! I promptly turned on my DROID to look up phone numbers of people in America I would not normally call. I had just had the most enlightening and important conversation of my lifetime! Someone needed to know! I believe I called five different people, and after not a single pick-up, I then resorted to gmail. Fortunately, a friend was on and I demanded that he call me, I had important things to say. The next morning, I was surprised to learn the duration of our phone call was 40 minutes. In times like these I like to quote Vonnegut, "I have this disease late at night involving alcohol and the telephone."

Luckily, my Friday schedule is short and easy. After getting home and eating lunch I started to crash hard. I called my site-mate Lauren to tell her that I wasn't going to make it out to Shatin ( our other site-mate Elisabeth's village). I took a quick nap before my very first English club for the teachers. My host mother, Siranush, is also a teacher so she sat in and then pulled me out halfway through to see if I wanted to hop a ride to Yeghegnadzor (the midpoint between my village and Shatin) with her and Samvell. I still needed to run errands in Yeg, so I agreed. After going to the bank, I ran into another site-mate Ed who was on his way to meet up with the rest of Club Yeg (as we affectionately call our little family). After pizza, beers and some more procrastination - I decided on a whim to in fact head over to Shatin with the gang. We had a grand old night, farting, cuddling and being generally ridiculous. We talked of all the things we want to do together as a family unit: be better about our spending, cook together more often, go to a festival somewhere in Europe over the summer...

The next morning, as we started preparing to head back to Yeg, Trevor - the 4th member of Club Yeg dropped the bomb he'd held on to for the last 15 hours, that he was ET-ing. ET stands for Early Terminate, meaning you leave and never come back. To an extent it came as a great shock to us. Lauren and Elisabeth were much closer to Trevor than I was; yet, Trevor and I spent our summer together in language class. We had a lot of good laughs and are close in our own way. That morning, I got to play therapist while the girls cried and I asked Trevor level headed questions about his decision. Essentially, he feels his place is at home - that that is where his purpose and priorities lie. Later that morning, as the shock passed we decided to stay together that day. We had a big brunch with mimosas and all. I am sad to see him go, disappointed that our relationship won't have a chance to be whatever it may have been after being site-mates for two years. Yet, I'm grateful for all he did bring into my life, for facilitating the great relationship I now have with Lauren and Elisabeth, for always telling me how beautiful my voice is, for supporting me through the final stages of my break-up and always accepting my oddities and quirks without blinking an eye. He's one of the good ones, but we do what we must.

In the end; it is as it always was, as it always was going to be.

The Daily Grind

Ok gang, so I realize I haven’t been so great at giving ya’ll a better idea of what actually transpires day to day.  I am going to talk about some things going on that are exciting and others that are… not so much.

As you may remember, I teach grades 3^rd through 12^th. At first grades 4^th, 7^th, 8^th, and 9^th were not a part of my schedule. After the TEFL director came for her visit last month, I started reexamining the areas where I might be needed and those in which I might not. It had been suggested to me that my time would be better well spent with the younger children than the older ones. Now, I skip 12^th grade once a week and go to 4^th grade twice a week. In my 11^th grade, I take the four students who give me their attention and work with them separately in the English room, while my counterpart babysits the others. Soon, once I get over this damn cold, I will start clubs for 7th, 8th, and 9th.

Over the summer during training, when previous TEFL volunteers would tell us how they had decided to stop attending certain classes, I remember not really understanding or agreeing with the decision. After a month in school, I now know better. Here’s the thing: while these kids have been ‘learning’ English since 3^rd grade, there are a handful of reasons why most of the 11^th and 12^th graders have retained as much of the language as the 5^th graders.  1. It seems English teachers are on high rotation. 2. Many of these previous teachers could not, themselves, speak the language.  3. The idea of the ‘America Dream’, which is used as a motivational tool by other teachers in the states, is out of the question.

By the time most of these students are in their early teens, they know what it’s going to be for them. Typically, the girls are waiting on a man to come ask for their hand in marriage, then later pop out a baby and maintain the household. One of my seniors is already engaged, and while she claims to want to leave Armenia ‘so freaking bad’ (a song lyric I taught her), she is the most stubborn in regards to learning. She will flat out refuse to participate in most of the activities I plan out. The boys will inherit the manual labor of their forefathers or continue perfecting their trade, whether it be fixing cars or driving them, fishing, farming, etc. On average, maybe two or three students per grade will go on to study higher education.  (I’m speaking in regards to my specific school here in Malishka).

If I were them, I would probably be similarly unmotivated.  They know that they are far behind, and many adults gave up on them back in the 5^th grade.  What do they care about this goofy unmarried American girl that tries to act cool, while speaking gibberish to them? They don’t.

Okay, so now for the exciting part. My little babies in the 3^rd, 4^th, 5^th, and 6^th grades are so excited to have me there. (Well, not so much 5^th grade, because my oppressive stern nature is required in that classroom). The 4^th graders literally celebrate my arrival to class twice a week. They still believe anything is possible and that they are just as capable of learning as their neighbor. One of my small victories thus far, is when the bad boys know they are being bad, I give them ‘the look’ and mockingly they say, “PLEASE BE QUIET!”. But hey, they are speaking English and appropriately (it also makes me giggle on the inside). 

Also, there is a big, fat diamond in the rough here. I discovered her one mundane afternoon in my 10^th grade class, maybe in week two or three. For homework I had assigned 10 sentences using new vocabulary. Most of the students reiterated a version of the examples we had gone over the class before; but these sentences she made, Oh.My.God.! They were impressive for a student in the states! They were thoughtful, complex and revealed a greater understanding of life. Luckily, the volunteer before me also recognized her shimmering, shinning light and had been strongly encouraging her to participate in the FLEX program. 

FLEX is a program sponsored by the American Councils, that sends between 20-30 high school students, from mostly ex-Soviet countries, to study at a high school in America for one year. The application process is really similar to Peace Corps, with medical exams and all. Malishka’s diamond just got through the final round of testing this past week. It’s a crime if she is not given the opportunity to see life outside the village! Just an example of how incredible this girl is: Last week, before the FLEX interview, I invited her over to my host family’s house for a mock interview. When I asked her to speak about important things she learned at GLOW camp from the year before, she started talking about the gender issue in Armenia. Gender issues.  I don’t even think gender issues were on my radar until college. Now, I have her reading Franny and Zooey by J.D. Salinger. It’s so inspiring to sit and discuss terms like ‘existential crisis’ with this girl.  I can’t get over it.

All in all, the good and the difficult are well balanced in my professional life here. Some things are tough, and I wine to Siranush about them, others are awesome and I gush to Siranush about them.  Then, I call my brother Andrew and we laugh about everything. 

Quote of The Week: "I did yoga for two weeks, it was good. Yoga is good."

Song Of The Week: Cat Power: Satisfaction

Sky's The Limit

As promised, I am posting off of my usual schedule. How exciting! 

You must excuse my recent theatrical, dramatic, I don't really know what, tone of writing. I have been reading Tom Robbins, again. Typically, when I am overindulging myself within the pages of an author with a very unique style of writing, I find my own writing (or 'voice') heavily influenced. You can see similar behavior in earlier postings, but at the time I was a Game of Thrones junkie, so I was using terms like 'small clothes' in regards to those silky undergarments scarcely to be found amongst my belongings.

Anywho, I finally had the opportunity to speak with the volunteer whom was here in Malishka from August of 2010 until April of 2012. He passed along some very pertinent information as I stood outside the school and six 11th grade boys stood around trying to look tough. I was so glad to get feedback from him about everything here. It's a funny thing to have never met a person, but be (somewhat) standing in their exact shoes, two years later and get to talk it over. I hear so much about him from community members and my counterpart, that after talking to him for an hour, I feel like we are close friends.

If you remember from my last post, I have been a little under the weather this week. I woke up last Wednesday feeling like poop and then on Thursday morning, just plain old shit. I was Zicaming and Emergencying all day long and after another day of rest on Friday, felt ok to go to our make-up day of school on Saturday. Yes- that's right; when there is a holiday on a Monday, school is held on a Saturday. The children are also allowed to run, scream and play in the hallways in between classes for five minutes. (This probably the reason why they are all so well behaved afterwards). As I was SAYINNNGG, I have been ridden with mucus coming out of every possible pore for about a week now. Unfortunately for me, Armenians consider blowing your nose in public akin to dropping your pants and popping a squat in the great wide open for all to see your goodies. All week, I've had to retire to my bedroom, the bathroom, or just somewhere away from others to honk the nasal horn. It's a real pain in my ass.

This past Sunday was the twin girls' 15th birthday. In the afternoon, their classmates came over to awkwardly giggle, blush and smile at one another until the 12 of them killed a bottle of red wine. And then, well, after that things got pretty wild. I decided to write letters in the meantime. I finally RECEIVED my letter from my college buddy, Sean. He's quite the character and I admire him for his complete lack of f-giving. I also received a package from my dear mother. I had asked her to please include some peanut butter M&M's as they are unavailable here. She swore they would melt and I bet her $50 they would not. She owes me. I nightly enjoy slowly sucking them down to their tasty peanut buttery insides as I watch episodes of True Blood and squeal in my nightgown inside the sleeping bag my brother Philip bought me two years ago when I was in the application process.

In the evening, the rest of the family came over for round two of the birthday party. There was much dancing and very loud music until about 2am (on a Sunday, mind you). I went to bed around 11pm and I suppose Siranush wanted to make sure that I wasn't mad about all the noise. Now, I have been sleeping on the floor since I moved here. The bed is more a less a hammock made out of springs from World War II. Nightly, I pull off the makeshift mattress, covers and such, and sleep. It doesn't bother me a bit, so I didn't feel this was something I needed to share with Siranush. In the beginning, I would be so anxious that someone might come in and find me! I haven't been thinking of it often, as I know now that the family respects the closed door. If the door is closed, it means don't bother me, or knock to make sure I don't mind you bothering me. Anyway, Siranush knocked and simultaneously opened the door. I felt like I'd been caught doing... something, with how guilty I felt. She played it real cool though and only finally addressed it today. She simply told me they would fix the bed to be more supportive.

And that, my loves, is why I am staying here for the winter.


Quote Of The Week: "Maybe, if they keep me teaching the brats, I will - I dunno, kill somebody." Anonymous 50+ y.o. 

Song Of The Week: Norah Jones - Travelin' On

In the Beginning...

Hey gang,

Sorry for the lapse between blog postings. I have been busy getting ready for school to begin and, with it’s actual beginning! And lordy lord, am I glad to finally get the ball rolling.

Here in Armenia, Sept. 1^st is considered a holiday. No matter what day of the week it is, students and teachers alike show up in their Sunday best to congratulate one another on the start of the new school year. Every school differs in their actual celebration of Sept. 1^st, but my school had a small awards ceremony to recognize student’s efforts from the year before. The event was held on the steps of the school, with the teachers standing behind the Director as he spoke and the students and parents watching from down below. (For some odd reason, it felt sort of like the opening scene of Hunger Games).  Once the Director was finished the students, overwhelmed with joy, ran into the school.

Afterwards a great majority of the staff gathered in the teacher’s lounge to sit around and shoot the shit about the upcoming year until the marshutni came, about two hours later. There was no teaching, no talk of schedules… it was interesting to say the least. I joined about 10 other teachers for a mini celebration complete with pizza and coffee at the café in Yeg., where I am normally throwing back beers with my site mates. It felt a little odd, but one of the things that I am getting pretty good at here is simply sitting back and going with the flow. For some of my acquaintances that might seem a little odd, that Carolyn Rodgers needs to learn how to go with the flow - but being here has opened my eyes to the fact of a certain little factor that assisted in my general 'go with the flow' attitude. I do not have access to it here and well, it has certainly changed things for me. One of the things that the Peace Corps application always talked about was flexibility. Now, it has come to take on a very, very different meaning.  Sometimes, that means getting over the union of your personal and professional life.

Monday was the first legitimate day of school, with bells and classes and everything. My counterpart had decided that I would be the focus of the day, which I was unaware of until after the first bell. Just a quick re-cap: In the Peace Corps Armenia TEFL program, PCVs (Peace Corps Volunteers) are paired with HCNs (Host Country Nationals) for two years in an collaborative effort to further develop the English skills of students and community members alike. I am to be working in conjunction with my ‘counterpart’ in the classroom, on a daily basis. I had previously thought it might be to my advantage that she had just spent the last two years with a different volunteer. This hypothesis remains unproved.

I am doing my best to reserve judgment and be open-minded. Yet, it has proven very difficult in the face of my day-to-day reality. I’m sure I have said it, maybe not on here – but definitely to friends and family- that while I am in an amazing post; one where I have daily access to internet, running water, the food groups I am accustomed to, and a taste of western life should I choose a 3 hour drive away – there is still much that is challenging about being here. I always need to remind myself to never forget why I choose to come here: to be challenged and to experience the sort of growth that can not take place back home inside the box.

So, you could say that I’m getting what I asked for.

 “So, you mean, I bucket bathed for this?” Jesse ‘Ger-a-lee-eh’ Garrison

In The Meantime

Please accept my apologies for the length of time between postings. Life, as we all know too well, tends to get in the way of pontification far too often. Also, there's been very little Peace Corps updates recently. I'll share what's been going on.


Sometime in December, I got yet another Dental package in the mail. It asked that I go get another check up, as the one that originally cleared me was going to expire before departure. Meanwhile, one of my wisdom teeth had been slowly coming in. The initial exam required a full jaw x-ray (I'm blanking on the formal term, but these are not routinely performed). It was then that the dentist informed me it was possible Peace Corps might request that I have all four wisdom teeth removed prior to departure. Fingers crossed and breath held while I waited for dental clearance, because wisdom tooth extraction is f-ing expensive when you are not covered for dental!


Anywho, I tried my hardest denial-like-self to pretend that the now visible tooth was a non-issue. It didn't bother me, so why bother it? My dentist thought otherwise. I made the appointment and two weeks later sat awake Novocained up the wazoo, doing yogic breathing while the doc drilled and sliced away. It was a most glorious afternoon. Being a female in the hormonal height of my cycle, the healing process was incredibly slow. It took two full weeks for recovery.  I had to return to the office because the discomfort was so extreme in the beginning. One of those weeks I was on a pain killer and wine diet = fat cow Carolyn.


Interestingly, they gave me the dry socket natural medicine - Clove. I injected the sticky brown goo into the gaping hole for about a week. Every application I thought, this is what cigarettes and clove cigarettes do over time - numb the area.  And I would feel proud to have (nearly) kicked the bad habit. I never thought I'd have to fight the urge to smoke cigarettes. I had my first drag when I was 18. But, because of my family's history with cancer and my childhood disgust with the smell (I would refuse to eat in restaurants that had smoking sections to the bane of my parents and brothers) it took three years of living and going out with smokers before I felt compelled to buy a pack of yellow American Spirits on my 21st birthday. Now, don't go thinking I bought packs in succession from there on out. Like I said, the relationship is a complicated one. There is only a small part of me that finds smoking acceptable. And with every glass of wine and emotional situation, that part grows until it's larger than the rational parts of my brain. It's then that I find a cigarette. And unfortunately, many of my loved ones smoke. They also tend to confide upsetting things to me, and then offer me a cigarette. It's a very vicious cycle. 


Why am I talking about this at all? I haven't bought a pack of cigarettes since September and haven't smoked more than one cigarette in a 24hr pd in over a month. But occasionally, the urge is still there and being that I was asked to sign a waiver by the Peace Corps proclaiming I understood the organization highly discouraged smoking, I want it to be irrelevant by the time I leave. Also, when comparing a 50 yr old life-long smoker to a 50 yr old that smoked but quit a good 20 yrs ago, it's obvious which side you want to be on. 


To sum things up: I'm vain and like a good buzz. Two things that I'm hoping will lessen over time while in Armenia. Oh, and I have one less tooth to worry about. 

Deadlines

     As previously mentioned, I'm quite the procrastinator. I hold my father fully responsible for this awful behavioral pattern. Just joshin'. He might've passed along the tendency but ultimately, it is I who decides to take forever to get things done.
     After receiving my invitation on (Halloween) Monday, I officially accepted and entered into the Peace Corps on Wednesday, November 2nd. I sent in an email and received a response later that day informing me I needed to send in my passport and visa applications (immediately) and write an aspiration statement to send to my country of service along with an updated resume. Even though the Peace Corps office has the second element of information on file, they need new, slightly different, copies for the Armenian office. 
     I was advised to send in these documents within ten days of invitation acceptance. I thought to myself, "I will start it over the weekend"... which happened to be my mother's birthday weekend. Instead of starting my aspiration statement, I ate, drank and lounged like the queen I often think I am. Not only was it my mother's birthday weekend, but a dear friend was home for the weekend. We hadn't seen one another in about a year, so I made sure to spend time with her as well. In a word, life caught up with me. 
     Since receiving my invitation, confirming my May departure date, I find that my thoughts do not focus on my service as much as they previously had. My time is spent working, reading and forever organizing my things in a way that I can easily pack up and go. Needless to say, I did not get around to starting my statement. In fact, it utterly and completely, slipped my mind. 
     Fast forward to the next Saturday afternoon: I am working, and an acquaintance asks "So, anything new with the Peace Corps?" and it hit me. "FUCK!! AM I PAST TEN DAYS?!?!" I checked my emails to confirm and in fact it was exactly the tenth day from receiving my invite. After work I grabbed my laptop, notebook, aspiration statement instructions and headed for Starb's.(There is a disappointing amount of coffee houses in the suburbs). I was able to get most of it done and around 6pm decided that it was not likely the email would be received until Monday morning. I also soothed my guilt and disappoint with myself, by reasoning that the 10 day deadline is really more for those individuals whom receive their invitations weeks (and not months) before their departure. 
     It was such a good feeling to be back in the mindset, thinking about my service, recalling why I decided to apply and what allowed me to continue my pursuit. Here is an excerpt:

     "As an American, I have been ingrained with a high degree of confidence in my identity; I am privileged and live a life of luxury. I choose to serve to challenge my comfort with this role.  While serving, I expect to meet this challenge with commitment and perseverance. Working with my Armenian counter part will certainly have its difficulties and I will constantly remember that I am there to serve Armenia and its culture – not my self; that compromise is key to any successful partnership. I am eager to begin working with someone whom I have no obvious commonalities. The greatest challenge whilst serving will be to gain the trust of my community members so that a successful partnership can be made. As a woman, I will need to adapt to the different role females play in Armenia. As a young person, I will need to be very respectful of the community elders and cultural norms. Overall, my strategy the first several months will be take in as much as possible and once I have a substantial amount of time and experience within the community, I will become a more active participant."

Fun Anecdote: I haven't had cable TV in close to two years (some would say I have been binging)and my new favorite show is American Horror Story. Sometimes, I need to fast forward through the scary parts, but I love a good thrill. While writing this post I was also watching the latest episode, and guess what?! There was an Armenian character! Loco shizz. I'm going to ignore the fact that he was a wealthy deusche.

Any Day Now

     Well, here I go - my first blog post ever. In the time between first applying and now, with an official invitation traveling through the US postal system, I've vacillated between the idea of sharing a blog and simply keeping in contact with only close friends and family through email. Then, a few days ago I read the Peace Corps blog of an acquaintance from Providence College and decided there will probably be others in a similarly disconnected position, curious about what exactly we Peace Corps Volunteers are sticking our noses into.
     When discussing my decision to enter the Peace Corps, many folks balked at the 27 month commitment. At this point, it feels like I've been committed to serving for over a year. Since being nominated in August 2010, about 14 months ago, I have made most long term decisions based on the fact that I would (eventually) be leaving for a third world country. 
     I originally applied in June of  2010 and as mentioned, was later nominated in August. My recruiter told me to start booking doctors appointments to get the necessary clearance as soon as possible - as the process normally took 3 to 6 months. I assumed that my general good health would make it easy to get clearance. Oh, how naive I truly was. Due to my own idiocy and other complications, I was not medically cleared until mid-July 2011. Shortly after, I was sent an email informing me that due to all-around government budget cuts departure dates (like many other areas) would be affected. I was given little information about when I would hear next and was essentially told to sit tight. I finally received an email from the Placement Office in the last week of September, asking me follow-up questions that would simply update my file. Three weeks later (two days ago) I was notified that my invitation packet was in the mail.


And so it begins.