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.

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...

How Can I Explain?

I have been meaning to write a blog post for close to two weeks now. So many new, great amazing things have been happening. Yet, the only thing I can think about recently is Boston and the idea of 'home' that is far broader than the house my parents live in. And while I was thinking about it, I couldn't necessarily articulate any of those thoughts, beyond: "Holy f*ing shit".

Two years ago, I was living in Boston. Two years ago, the streets whose images are being broadcasted across the world are streets I felt safe on, streets I walked. I admit, my little hiatus from Facebook took a hiatus as this ordeal continued to unfold. For a little over a year, Boston was my home away from home. It is still a place that I consider returning to once my service is done. So, as I began my morning routine of putting the tea kettle on, turning on my computer, plugging in the flash drive that operates as my internet, then going outside to relieve myself and re-entering the kitchen again, I quickly glanced at nytimes.com and thought, "Huh?" I was sleepy, foggy, so I turned my back and made the coffee. When I sat down in front of my computer again, the shock didn't truly set in for several minutes. I read the headlines over and over again, then I watched the video.

At first, I was extremely confused. Then I was nervous, scanning my brain to think of any friends or contacts that might have been there at that time. Then I realized it was getting late and if I was going to go for a run, I needed to leave. As I climbed the hills of Malishka that morning, I can't say I was thinking about the tragedy. I was thinking about my time in Boston. The times I went downtown to the Public Library because it was just so awesome. And the ever reoccurring thought returned, "How the hell did I get HERE?!" When I got back to the house I immediately sat down in front of my computer and logged onto Facebook. I checked all the pages of friends, and people I've lost contact with who live in or are from the area. I read moving posts from peers I went to school with who I didn't even realize were from Boston and from friends that are runners. Surreal is the closest word that comes to describing how it felt to read the updates every morning there after.

Today, one week later, I am understanding that while unimaginable physically removed from Boston, I was still very much affected by the events that went on. It left me feeling wildly homesick. I wanted to be there, or with people I knew during my time there... or just SOMETHING. I wanted to be out celebrating in the bars when the 2nd brother was caught and the lock-down ended. I wanted to be surrounded by people who KNOW Boston, who LOVE Boston. Instead, it rained and was cold everyday. Instead, I laid in the dark listening to yet another midnight shower. I had vivid, odd dreams about people from that place and time in my life.

There was only one Armenia who asked me about the events. I find this odd, because a good chunk of Armenian news is taken directly from American news outlets. For instance, last fall there was air time given to the Texas high school cheerleaders who made banners with Bible verses displayed. And yet, no one seems to know about the bombings, nor do they really care all that much. When the man at the vegetable market asked me if I knew what had happened I said, "Yes, I do. But how can I explain?". He took me literally, and began explaining - in Armenian- that two bombs had gone off.  What I really wanted to say was, "NO! How can I explain the decisions of another human? How do I make sense of someone doing this? Why is the world at a place and time, when news of a bombing gets a mild reaction, almost like hearing that it rained yesterday?" Unfortunately, I don't have the language to say these things. It is times like these, that I feel truly isolated in my community.

There is a part of me (for once) that wants everyone here to know there's something going on and ask me how I'm doing. I wanted the children to know that I don't have the energy to deal with them lately because a place I once lived in is in a state of chaos. Then, I began to think of the Peace Corps Volunteers that sat on the other side of the world while the towers burned in New York in 2011. I wonder, how many of them went home? Were they allowed to? Did they stay together until they were able to go home? How many of them called New York home?

Another thought I had last week was the overwhelming irony in my being in Armenia during both the Boston Bombing and Hurricane Sandy. Before coming, whenever asked where I was headed, 90% of the time the reaction was, "Sorry, I have no idea where that is!" I would then explain that it bordered Iran and Turkey. The look of horror was almost always imminent after imparting this information. "Aren't you scared, to be so...close..to there?" My answer was the polite nod of, "Yes, I understand your concern, but no I'm not scared." Nowadays, the idea seems laughable. Scared? What would have been scary was being in the last two places I lived during the horrific events that have occurred in them this last year.

I guess you could say that the honeymoon phase of having my own place is complete. I promise to post again in the next few days with pictures and more things about new secret admirers from across the street. (Though, it's not a secret because they come one to two times everyday asking if I can come out and play).

Jigsaw Falling Into Place

After closing the computer on my last post, much of what I was looking forward to awaited me. Siranush had made my favorite meal (which isn't really a meal at all, but a sauteed vegetable that is somewhere between spinach and seaweed called 'bonjar') and sent me home with some goodies. This time it was fresh homemade cheese ( YES!), a jar of sauce I helped jar last summer (YEESSS!), and a bag full on onions (yes?). She also informed me that I should not be purchasing my potatoes from anyone, but that she would supply them for me.

She inquired about where I buy my eggs, lavash and other vegetables. She asked me why I didn't bring my clothes to wash. I told her I would return to wash them either today or tomorrow. She then told me that one of her twin daughters moved into my old room. She told me that for the first time in their lives the twins are sleeping in separate rooms. Her daughter has decorated the room the same way that I had, with pictures and writings on the walls. She then lead me back to the room I lived in for eight months to see with my own eyes.  I can't properly relay the response this evoked. Somewhere between surprise, validation and pride.

All this time, one of the areas I've felt most disappointed in has been my relationship with Siranush's twin daughters. American twin sisters that are 15 years old are going to be difficult to bond with, no less Armenian ones. There are several reasons why I found this relationship challenging. Firstly, I've never had a sister. Secondly, Armenian youth are experiencing this two-sided-coin sort of life: The way their parents understand life and the world; and the world they're being exposed to through internet and television. Finally, they're my students and I never quite knew how to balance those two very different relationships. So when I saw that Anna had literally followed in my foot steps there was such a sense of relief. I wasn't able to see until that moment that I had made an impact on the girls, maybe even more than I realize now. The very cool thing about this impact, is that it was one I wanted to have. I wanted them to become more individual, independent so that there was more room for personal growth and it seems that is exactly what will ensue.

I was on such a high walking home from the 'ole host family home that evening that when one of the school's cleaning ladies came running outside, asking that I come inside, I agreed. Since moving, I have received a lot of invitations to go sit, have coffee and candy. It's a regular and normal thing for Armenians to extend this sort of hospitality. Hosting friends, family, and strangers is a normal and regular part of the culture. The word 'huerasirel' means 'to guest love' literally, but in our terms it would mean to be a very good host. There's also an understanding that you are 'pleasuring' your guests. I recently had a male Armenian friend begin to say, "So, when we are pleasuring you..." My friend Lauren and I, once we stopped snorting in laughter, explained this wasn't exactly an appropriate phrasing for the circumstances. Anyway, I hung out with Annahit and her daughter-in-law for a half hour or so and they sent me away with a bottle of fresh cow's milk. Overall, it was a very good day.

The day before an Armenian Peace Corps Staff member had stopped in Malishka on his way down South to drop off a tank of gas. Once opening the stove to reveal the smaller tank, he explained I would need a new reductor and a new schlong. No joke. This man stood in my kitchen and explained, "You will need, maybe, a one to two meter schlong will be long enough." If there was a single other American around I would have lost it, but I did not feel like explaining myself to this man and so I kept my mouth shut.

Also, Samvell helped me to pick up my bed in the nearby town AND THAT was another ridiculous highlight of last week. This may be the first time that everyone was truly gawking at me, and it wasn't just my imagination or a bad dream. We simply had to laugh it off. Now I sit in my living room that's decorated and arranged precisely how I want it after a wonderful evening and morning with my sitemates laughing, commiserating and most importantly, sharing.

Life is good. Life is real good.


Song Of The Week: Rachel Yamagata 'Elephants'
Quote Of The Week: "Hing rope, arten yekav!"

Week 3 in Akunk

This last week was the roughest one thus far.  Now that the adrenaline and excitement has worn off, reality has settled in some. Language class has gotten increasingly difficult and we only get one day off a week. There are few stolen moments of down time.  It may not appear that way to my host family, but it’s hard to consider it down time when you’re not in your home, not speaking your native tongue and have to let several people know of your whereabouts at all times.

Things were a little different this week, as the TEFL director insisted that her two-hour trainings be treated with the same importance as language class. We did an experiment where TEFL training was switched into the morning slot and language the afternoon. Nobody, nobody I tell you, was happy (this is false). Sitting through four hours of Armenian in a hot stuffy classroom after eating a heavy lunch is not ideal. I’m not complaining, but… well I guess I am. 

I so look forward to getting more familiar with the culture and eventually being off on my own. It’s easy to forget how awesome having FREEDOM can be. I am free in the philosophical sense but a lot of my life is scheduled here. There are things I have to do that frankly, I do not want to do. It’s also weird to feel guilty about wanting/needing to decompress. Some days I feel like a monkey in a cage whom needs to be performing at all times.  My host sisters are sort of fascinated with me; when I come home from school they want to hear all about it and take me places, and all I want to do is take a nap. Having a younger host sister is making me appreciate the fact that I was the baby of my family. It’s definitely a switch up in the roles…and necessarily an easy one.

Six days a week, I walk to and from school twice a day. One morning an enormous, hideous, terrifying bird began harassing me. It is the first time that I have felt truly afraid since being in Armenia. I have never seen a bird like this in America, but he’s a little smaller than a seagull and loud as hell. He was darting and squawking at me over and over until I literally started running a little bit. Just in time, I realized that I was about to trample over two other similar looking birds.  I was glad to understand why he was harassing me, but it didn’t make it any less scary. The next day, I saw some of the little boys that live near there messing with the hurt (maybe old?) birds. And as you might have already guessed, this same bird was losing his mind again.

Now, everyday I have to suck it up as this bird does his best to scare me away. Then on the way home, I have to get tough for the 10 little boys that harass me. They range in ages five to about fifteen. Some days, I feel like an 8yr old again. My new defense mechanism for the boy gang is to speak to them in English, just as they speak to me in Armenian. That worked for about two days…

But don’t worry. There is a lot of laughter, with my host mother and my friends here in Akunk. On Thursday of last week we had the opportunity to meet up with the group of volunteers who got here one year ago (A-19’s). We had group sessions for about three hours or so and then everyone went out to the field to play Capture the Flag. It was so much fun. I forgot how much I love to compete in big team games like that.  On the hour drive back to Akunk, in my favorite seat on our bus, Bobby D crooned through my headphones as the sun began to set across the Armenian landscape. Moments and images like these are truly worth every frustration. I smile to myself, giggle like an insane person and realize again, I AM IN ARMENIA!! 

Akunk, Armenia

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

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

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

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