"Let It Always Be..."

Is typically how an Armenian toast will begin. On February 13th, Armenians celebrate an equivalent of Valentine's Day, except their holiday is steeped in ancient tradition. Families will light a small fire, circle around it several times while holding hands and then each person jumps over/ through the fire 3, 5, or 8 times. This is a very big day for those newly engaged, or newly married. If this is your case, then your family will throw a big 'ole party and the small fire will be more like a bonfire. I'm not exactly sure how people jump over that fire... I celebrated with my host family and Siranush explained to me that jumping over the fire would cleanse the soul of sins, opening your heart to God's light (or something like that). Then I found this explanation for an Armenian news outlet, "The celebration of the Trndez is pagan in origin and is originally connected with sun/fire worship in ancient pre-Christian Armenia, symbolizing the coming of spring and fertility. On this day, sweethearts leap over bonfires with their hands clasped to symbolize eternal love." (Panarmenia.net)

Siranush had cooked up a tasty meal and Samvell was eager to drink his homemade wine with me once again. The last time we shared drinks together was before I left to go home. When he poured my first glass, the strong brandy-like smell hit my nostrils and the way that things were before I left returned to me. The sense that this is my family that cares for me, that I was truly happy and comfortable living here, and how I felt close with Samvell. I'm realizing that maybe my being away for so long, and returning was not only an adjustment for me - but for the family too. I can't presume to know the thoughts that went through their heads, but whatever tension that's existed the last few weeks between Samvell and I was totally washed away in that evening. 

I hate to say it, and I'm sure that there are people who might disagree, but sometimes sitting down for a few drinks and getting buzzed will form a bond between two people. In this case, when we sit down to share his wine, Samvell forgets that I am this confusing anomaly of an independent, unmarried, young woman. I am Carolyn, who likes to talk about politics and the differences between Armenian and American culture. And he is Samvell, who loves these topics too and likes dancing to Michael Jackson. It was a long evening with toasts to the dead cat, my family back home, my new house, and to my always being a part of the family, that I will always have a place in their home.

In other news: I have found a house to live in! Next week my Regional Manager will come to approve the house and make sure that it meets Peace Corps standards. Once I have the place the my liking, expect pictures! We had a conference last week, it was great to see all the other volunteers that I don't normally get a chance to see. I brought one of the English teachers with me and it was great to work with her. My friend Phi is back home in California visiting family and I can't wait for her return! Though we will go weeks without seeing one another normally, the idea that I can't call her if I feel like it makes me miss her!!

Quote of the Week: "Look, I can do something like that, too!" (hacks a loogey)
Album of the Week: Cake 'Fashion Nugget'

Week 1 in Malishka

As most of my darling readers will have already known, I got sick the night before I was meant to depart for my permanent site. It’s taking my body a little while to fully adjust and acclimate to being here. I am totally exhausted by the end of each day and I’m not doing very much, but…

In short, everything is great here. My new host family is definitely a different flavor of Armenian than the last, but in a good way. I’m almost certain they come from a longer line of edumakated folk. (I don’t know why I wrote it that way but that’s what was in my head, so like, deal with it). They have a piano; on which one of the twin sisters was playing My Heart Will Go On the other day during my daily afternoon yoga session. Armenians f-ing love Celine Dion and in particular, that song. I have yet to meet a young Armenian girl who didn’t know the chorus by heart.

In my last host family, there was no residing Tatik or Papik (Grandma or Grandpa). Typically these folks just putt around the house doing whatever extent of housework they can manage. In this house, they call him Poppy (which is what we were trying to get my niece Soleil to call my father, but she went with Tim instead). Poppy messes around in the garden for an hour or two in the mornings in his Adidas sport pants pulled up to his ears, ripping cigarettes. He really digs watching the T.V. and has an impressive ability to hear. I actually saw him turn the volume down the other day.  I guess Poppy’s room is too stuffy at the moment, because he’s been sleeping on the old bed outside the house. It sort of reminds me of Grigor, who would sleep in the kidnapper van…

Anyway, Poppy fucking hates the cat that hangs around here. He yells at it the moment one of its paws hits the inside of the house. It’s a tiger cat (for my close friends and family, he looks just like Darryl Strawberry) and Poppy calls him the equivalent of ‘ginger’ in Russian, when telling him to scram. A few mornings ago, I was internet-ing while Poppy was screwing around in the garden and my little buddy was twirling around my feet, eating up the attention and the fact that he was in the forbidden zone! After a little while, he was pooped from the excitement of it all and laid down for a nap on the carpet a couple of feet away from where I was sitting.  Poppy came in, kitty doesn’t move, and so Poppy shuffles over to him, winds up and gives kitty a swift ‘ole kick in the ass. It’s really not funny, but it sort of is, in that ‘oh, old people’ way. Come to think of it, most of Poppy’s words per day are directed at the cat.

I also have acquired a new Tatik since moving to Malishka. Unfortunately, she doesn’t live with us, as she is the mother of Siranush (new host mom). Here in Armenia, when a couple marries, the wife moves in with the husband’s family and then they live out the rest of their days. Sometimes though, if you have more than one son, the older son is allowed to move out on his own – I think. Anyway, this lady is really amazing. When I first came for my site visit at the end of June she, above everyone else, made me feel welcome and relaxed. There is something about the way she peers into my eyes that makes me feel at home. It’s difficult to explain, but for example, she was asking me whether or not I call home to talk to my mom. I said that I did, but only once a week because, once we talk I miss her more. As she was getting ready to leave, she gave me a big hug and said, “Don’t miss your mother, I am your mom now”.

Two days ago, I was walking home alone from the post office in the middle of the afternoon and I hear someone call out my name. I turn to look and who is it, but Tatik! She yelled for me to wait for her, as she was a little way down the block. I’m not exactly sure how old she is, but she moves around pretty good for a woman her age. Anyway, we walk and talk, she asks me where I’m coming from and is totally surprised that I can remember the way home. As we near her house she invites me over (well really, commands me). I know that this means coffee, fresh fruit and cakes, so obviously, I agreed.

Once at her house, she shouts for her daughter-in-law to entertain me while she washes up quickly. Soon coffee is ready, and Tatik returns from her garden with fresh grapes, peaches, apples and hazelnuts.  She then tells me to follow her into the back room, where she wants me to try on some of her other daughter-in-law’s clothes. She picked out a navy blue polka-dotted full-length dress. Coincidentally, I left a dress back home with the identical pattern. After trying it on, she took some measurements and started to tailor the dress for me. An hour or so later, we walked back to Siranush’s house together, dress and all. She was very proud of her work, and rightfully so, the dress does look good on me. Of course, I had to give a mini fashion show for the twins and Siranush, while Tatik beamed proudly at me.

That was not the end of my day, but I will save the other part of that afternoon for a different post.

I hope you are all happy, healthy and enjoying the wind-down of the summer season!

It's Official, I'm a PCV

75 days later and I am still here.

When I first left home, I told myself I would just try. I definitely had doubts and concerns about the decision to come, but felt it was important that I took the opportunity for which I’d worked hard. I did a pretty good job of putting aside most of my fears and anxieties prior to leaving. Life in Armenia was an illusion to me, so it was easy.  Now, after having been here for the last seventy five days, living with my host family, learning the language and culture, I am know this is where I will for the next two years. And yet, those fears and anxieties have become real.

I have been able to get a small glimpse of where it is I am headed and I know things are about to change drastically. There is a great expectation of me within my next community. The previous volunteer was active, well liked and successful in his assignment. In essence, he left a legacy that I will not fulfill. When I first returned from my site visit, this prospect was scary. My fear of failing, in this attempt at boldness and courage, started to creep it’s way into my head. Was I capable?

The last month has been spent mentally preparing for, what is now, right in front of me. Tomorrow morning I will leave my host family and head for another. I will be truly alone for the first time since arriving. My time will be my own again (to a certain extent) and I have three weeks to get my bearings in the new community. It’s interesting to realize that in two months time I have just started to get in a groove here, with my family, my extremely scheduled life, etc. I will have to start all over again. This time though, it is up to me to have a purpose.  So, I am going to start writing more letters and mapping out my village as a start. I am going to recharge the batteries so that by the time school begins my mind is once again open to a whole new experience.

I will be ok. I will succeed. And my life at home will always be waiting for me but Armenia will not always open in this way for me. I miss home and I miss my friends, but I am excited about the new friendships I have here. Mostly, I want to press on and see what awaits me. It’s not yet time to go home, there is still so much to learn...

After drafting this post, I got violently ill the night before my scheduled departure from Akunk. My family was really concerned for me and insisted on calling my LCF (language teacher within in the village) to say there was no way I was leaving. Luckily, Peace Corps obliged and allowed me one last ( albeit sick) day in Akunk. I slept on and off throughout the afternoon, was advised to eat nothing at all and drink only tea. By the next morning I was good to go so I took off in a white Peace Corps Toyota truck. The door to door service was excellent in my weakened condition, but I also felt like the queen coming into town... so that was sort of awkward.

I've been in my new home with my new host family for two nights now. I have a lot more privacy this time around. The area's terrain is completely different from where I was. You can look up my site Malishka, Armenia on Google maps! I'm in the valley of a mountain range, from where my house to located there isn't much view but it's still very beautiful. Glimpses of the beauty are too be had and I was really wanting to get out and walk around the neighborhood to see the view. Yesterday, with my new family I went over to their Tatik's (grandma) house just up the hill. She has this beautiful balcony that overlooks the community. It was so gorgeous and breathtaking. As I sipped my coffee and ate some of the freshest fruit of my lifetime I simply took in this view. It was a lovely afternoon.

School starts on September 1st. My Armenian counterpart will return from a translating job in Yerevan on the 18th, so I am looking forward to getting together with her and beginning to prepare for the school year to come. In the meantime: yoga, writing, singing my guts out, walking around town, yoga, writing, meeting other volunteers in the nearby town and studying my Armenian!!

Oh, and I may or may not have picked up Season 2 of The Wire in the PC library...

Chicken Testes

I apologize for the delay between postings. Two weeks ago we started our teaching practicum. There has been very little free time with lesson planning on top of homework. At the beginning of the month everyone switched language teachers in an effort to … I don’t actually know. But, there is definitely a disconnect between the language people and the TEFL people. It feels like I am in school again sometimes, when the one teacher doesn’t really give a shit that your workload is already great, because their assignments are far more important than the rest.  To say the least, I have been busy.

I have also not known what I wanted to write about…the re-built ruins we visited, my stress, the fact that I don’t want to leave Akunk yet, how much I appreciate my host family, my anxiety about going to site, the flies, the heat, my friends? Or maybe even the food? Then yesterday, as I was walking my dear friend Debra out after finishing up our final lesson plan, I decided to go and talk to my h.mom Silva about the noxious smell outside and where it might be coming from. I had just seen her out of the corner of my eye, going to the part of the house in which I shower and where she has been preparing the winter preserves. Remember the dungeon I mentioned? Well, this is the same place.

These three rooms are the original house and have their own separate entrance. The immediate room after the entrance is the old kitchen; and then a window through to the shower area, which is just tile, a weak light and a shower head; and the other room off to the side is a mystery to me because I find it terrifying and I’m pretty sure a ninja or a monster awaits me there. The old kitchen has no light except for whatever natural light comes through the door. When you first poke your head in, it takes a few seconds for your eyes to adjust. 

Anyway, I poke my head in and ask Silva how her grocery shopping in Abovian went. As she tells me that her head was spinning, I notice the large knife in her hands with some blood spatters, and the dark wet thing in the pot full of steaming hot water. As I got closer, I realized the dark wet thing is one of the chickens from the yard. I was so stunned and excited! I was going to get to watch her prepare our dinner from the moment it’s neck was broken!

The whole process was fascinating. The boiling water was for pulling the hair out faster and easier. It was as simple as… well I can’t actually think of an appropriate comparison, but she did it with ease.  The feathers on the wings were more difficult and took some muscle. She turns to me with one in her hand and says, ‘Columbus’ pen!’. After removing as much of the hair as possible, she turned on a burner (which is really more like a torch) and passed our dinner through the flame several times, burning away the remaining hair. After the chicken was bare she removed his neck, arms and legs; first by breaking them and then sawing through the remaining muscle with her knife.

She began to clean out the internal organs and other gunk inside the frame of the body; first opening the chest up with her skilled bare hands as I simply stood there with my mouth open - the whole time. At some point, my English speaking sister Angela comes over and tells me she loves eating the eggs. I was so confused! Did she mean eggs, eggs, or the two testes that were now visible inside the carcass? She meant the two testes in the carcass, which was carefully explained to me by mother as she referenced her sometimes naked grandson Vartancheek and motioned her hands in a manner I would understand. I couldn’t think of the words testes or testicles, so I just said “Oh, you mean the balls?!”. Which my two host sisters and mother each repeated in turn ‘balls?’. After a minute or two I remembered testicles and shouted out this word, which they also repeated. My h.mom said ‘testicles’ about five times during the rest of the dinner preparation. It was awesome.

For dinner I ate a testicle and some lung in my chicken potato soup. Narine had forgotten to add salt to the fresh bread, which we all had a laugh over. Grigor came to sit down, throw back two shots of vodka and then leave.  Silva gave him grief about how fast he eats, because he always complains that his belly hurts afterwards.  Armenians use a lot of motioning and moaning to get their point across. I am a huge fan of this communication technique. There is no point in my trying to write them out here, you will just have to wait until you see me and I will give you an impression.

So, one week left to go, three more official days of Pre-Service Training. I honestly can’t believe how fast the time has gone. Do I say that every post? Oh well, it’s the truth. I am simultaneously excited, nervous, tired and energetic. I pass through nearly every possible emotion on a daily basis. As you might imagine this involves the occasional cry, but it’s not the end of the world.  At this point, I just need to push through the next week with the remaining fuel I’ve got left.

I’ll tell you what: I am seriously looking forward to having three weeks of rest before school starts on September 1^st. 

Raspberries and other stuff

Sometimes, it actually feels like I am in the Peace Corps.  This past Saturday was one of those days. After four and a half hours of language class in the morning, I sauntered home to be fed and have a nap. Unfortunately, the day that I returned from site visit one of my other sisters was rushed to the hospital. Not the same sister as when I first arrived, but the 17 year old. Everything is ok now after surgery. So, this weekend it was just myself, Grigor and Narine.

There are many trees in my backyard/garden and right now everything is ripe! My host father Grigor will climb one every couple of days and shake out the blackberries or yellow cherries. On Saturday, as I was napping under the cherry tree Grigor climbed it and hung out there for a good thirty minutes eating cherries. Sometimes I feel like I still live with my brother Andrew, but he’s 53, my height and married with children. Like Andrew, Grigor starts his day with coffee and a cigarette. He likes to fix bikes and sleep in the kidnapper van because ‘it’s cooler’.  And of course, he loves to climb trees and eat the fruit. This weekend though, Grigor was rocking his wife’s bedazzled slippers everyday and I’m not entirely sure why… but I loved every single second he had them on.

A few hours later I felt like eating some raspberries.  There are so many raspberry plants in the garden! I grabbed a basket and started picking. I have never before picked raspberries, but it’s something I plan to continue doing. You can get lost in thought seeking out the deep red hue popping out against all the green.  As I went along I realized that I would really love to have a backyard/ garden such as my host family’s once I return home. It makes so much more sense to water plants instead of grass, to fill the soil with seeds that will bear fruit the entire summer and give you winter preserves. Plus I enjoy the sensations of being in the garden. My bare feet in the damp dirt, sweat gathering at the nape of my neck as the sun beats down, the delicate skin of the raspberries… it’s all very sensual.

Later on, my friend came over for tea and sunflower seeds. Armenians freaking love sunflower seeds! They can eat a wild amount of them in a sitting. They are served at almost every gathering and I will look over at my neighbor’s plate to see the mound of sunflower seeds compared to my pathetic pile. It was a lovely day. My visitor was another American volunteer though, so I did not feel as badly about myself.

The next morning I woke up early to do language homework and clean up my room before heading over to the village of Kotayk.  A group of ten was meeting to go hike the nearby mountain. It was about a 3hour hike up, with a steep incline nearly the whole time. It was so intense with the heat and no shade at all. I have only ever hiked mountains in the Adirondacks, where there is tree coverage the whole way up.  This was quite a different experience. An hour into the climb I decided I was going to take my sweet ass time because I didn’t want to be utterly exhausted this morning.

When I woke up I was definitely dehydrated with a slight headache and my legs still feel like stone. The pictures were definitely worth it though, so check those out on FB ( I will post them in a few days).

And for those of you swimming in the ocean this summer, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you! All I want is a long afternoon at the beach followed by chilled white wine, the best hair ever, great color and laughs with my friends. When that day does come again, my god, will it be ever so sweet!

Kisses! I ruv youse!

A Weekend in Malishka

On Saturday morning, I woke up to my (Akunk) mother Silva making my favorite little pastries to send with me on my journey. I was only leaving for a few days but the whole family said goodbye like I was leaving for good.  It felt nice to have them send me off so genuinely. Obviously, for my host father it can be awkward in those situations, so to settle our shared uneasiness I gave him a karate kick and headed for the door. (Sometimes, I feel like the boy Grigor never had… We karate chop at one another on a semi-regular basis and one day he was swinging from the door frame kicking his little legs at me. It was awesome).

In Yerevan I started feeling a little bit queasy and even more so as the counterparts showed up to escort us to the metro station. The already hot city started to feel suffocating walking around in jeans with a full backpack. When we got down to the track it was much cooler and I started having cold sweats. This might be the first time I experienced anxiety in this form. It was so odd because mentally I wasn’t freaking out, but my body was.  Luckily, the five other nearby volunteers and I were all travelling together. After four stops we got off and headed to the bus, where we loaded the private university bus that a counterpart (and host brother to a separate volunteer) had organized for us. At this point I was not looking forward to the two -hour drive but I just put my shades and headphones on, and then passed out.

After arriving in Yeghegnazdor, I took a 15-minute marshutni into the village of Malishka with my imposter counterpart. She unexpectedly took me to her personal home instead of my host family’s home. After meeting everyone in the family, eating a meal, checking out the garden and suffering her cousin’s 21 questions, I was losing steam and patience fast.  Instead of picking up on this, she suggested I take a nap at her house… so I made it very clear I was ready to go see my new host family.  Once in their house, I ate the meal that they had prepared for my arrival and introduced myself to another 10 people and answered another set of 21 questions. As you may imagine, I was completely exhausted. Luckily, after my kidnapper left the house my new host mom picked up on this and told me to go relax in my room. I was so, so grateful for this reprieve.

It’s hard to describe the amount of energy it takes to go through these introductions. In my room I had to seriously pull it together, because honestly, in that moment I wanted to be home. I wanted to never leave the room and sleep through the weekend. Instead, forty or so minutes later I exited the room, then sat and watched as the women made dinner. It was an incredibly delicious vegetable soup, which helped me to feel much better. My host family was so gentle with me; it was exactly what I needed.

In the morning I finally met my counterpart and the director (principal) at the school where I will spend the next two years teaching English. I am so grateful that my school has electricity and amazing resources. With grant money, a computer and projector was bought for the English classroom. I am stepping into a strong foundation and it is giving me great ease of mind. Yet, I also know what I must now live up to; the legacy of Chad the American volunteer lives largely in my village. He only left this past April and all were sad to see him go. I wish he was around to show me the ropes a little bit, but wishing won’t do me any good. I shall simply have to prove myself without the help of an established volunteer. 

Unlike most other regions, all of the volunteers before us will have returned home by the time we move there.  All but one early terminated and she is leaving a few weeks before our move.  She gave us a lot of sound advice and showed us a great café.  I met with my other future site mates there and hung out for a couple of hours. The next day was very low-key. I did meet around 20 more people but in a much more casual setting. I was so happy to tag along with my new host mom Siranush to her girlfriend’s house. I spent the afternoon laughing and trying to follow the gossip amongst this friendly and warm group of women. They are all teachers within my new school!! It was a wonderful way to get my foot in the door, and I look forward to seeing everyone when I return for good in August!

…And guess what, my new h.family has a cat!

Enter

“You too, put your foot forward. If you do not wish to, then follow your fantasies. But if you prefer the secrets of the love of your soul you will sacrifice everything. You will lose what you consider to be valuable, but you will soon hear the sacramental word, ‘Enter’.” Catching the Thread Llewellyn Vaughan-Lee

This is a quote from a Sufism text that I downloaded before leaving. Every couple of days I will read a paragraph or two when I am waiting for gmail to load. I found this this quote to be so very apropos.

Tomorrow I will travel to Malishka, my permanent site. We found out where we were going on Monday and the last two days we had a counterpart conference. Our counterparts are Armenian teachers with varying experience and skills. My counterpart did not show up, but her friend came instead…Her friend, whom has no association with Peace Corps or my future project.

Anywho, I’ll be staying with my new host family for three nights and then am to travel back to Yerevan on my own! It’s about a two-hour trip via marshutni. Marshutni’s resemble kidnapper vans with seats in them. Have I talked about these before? I can’t remember, oh well. But yea, there are about 12 actual seats and will be packed with about 20 people. It’s ALWAYS an interesting ride, always. Whether it’s the snow cat* in the back, the loud Americans, teenage boys making fun, the women offering a sliver of a seat to an elderly woman, or the smelly armpit you could reach out and lick if you felt like it, there is always something entertaining happening. 

I will write a nice long post about my time down in Malishka when I return. Wish me luck!

*Snow Cat: An attractive Armenian man, exotic, nearly extinct and beautiful. I coined this term for all of my lady friends.

One month down, 26 to go!

This last week has been jam packed with travel. Last Sunday afternoon into the evening I was in Masis, which is about an hour from Akunk. On Monday, I took a field trip with nine other volunteers all the way to Stepanavan to visit GLOW Camp. Stepanavan is about a three-hour drive through the Armenian countryside. Girls Leading Our World is a worldwide organization, with Armenia’s version  a six-day camp with 40 participants happening once a year.

I had a day off on Tuesday (meaning I didn’t leave Akunk and had class all day).  Then on Wednesday the whole group went into Yerevan for the day. Armenia’s capital city is much like any other Western city. There’s a lot of traffic, stores, cafes, restaurants and even a Marriot. And, just like every other city in the world, it’s much more stuffy and hotter than the country. Thursday and Friday were both low key, but still full days of school.  Yesterday (Saturday) was a very long day. In the morning, we had a morning cross cultural session and language class in the afternoon. Afterwards, I rushed home to prepare for my twenty-two year old h.sister’s engagement party. Her fiancé is currently serving his mandatory two years of service in the army. He just finished up his first year and is home on break for ten days.

The Armenian engagement process is slightly different from that of the American one. There is an informal agreement between the couple and later, they become engaged at the party itself. Prior to the party, the bride and groom families come together and agree upon a date. At the party, the groom’s family arrives jointly in a procession, presenting the ring and other gifts (like 30 year old brandy). 

 Shortly after all the formal greetings, toasts begin. There are so many throughout the evening, mostly made by men. It was a tight squeeze in our makeshift banquet room, so I quickly learned how to eat an entire meal with my left hand. I probably looked incredibly ridiculous. Sitting across from me was the groom’s grandfather. Seeing that I understand 3% of what is being said, I watch everyone around me most of the time. This man was so hilarious and interesting. He made a lot of toasts right off the bat and for every toast, the men take a shot of vodka. All booze is drank out of shot glasses, even wine.

About 20 minutes in he got really emotional during a toast and started crying. It was short lived because it was time to eat. He wrapped meat and cheese inside a lavash wrap. He then reached into his pocket to whip out his own personal knife. He proceeded to cut this meat and cheese sandwich into tiny, tiny pieces. I was avidly watching him and as I looked up, he was smiling at me and pointed to his one tooth!  After this, we were friends. A little later on, he was making yet another toast and looked straight at me and said, “WOMAN! WHAT ARE YOU DRINKING?!” That cracked everyone in the room up, and then I was poured some more brandy.

He kept shaking my hand and winking at me the whole meal. I was having a swell time laughing at everything because well, they were laughing.  Papik (grandpa) was saying many toasts to me. Eventually, my h.uncle asked if I knew what he was saying and of course, I didn’t. He said something along the lines of “You beautiful American will be my wife for a short time”. My uncle asked me if I agreed, I did. Papik was pretty drunk after awhile and passed out in the bedroom.

Even though I couldn’t understand what was being said around me, I had a really good time. They had me toast my host sister in English and Armenian at different times. At the end of the night, my host sister's kids were blasting music in Grigor's industrial van. Nelly's "Just A Dream" came on and I experienced yet another surreal moment. I flashbacked to living in Boston and not knowing if Peace Corps was going to happen at all. Now that it's my reality, it sometimes feels like a dream. 

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. 

In Recent News

From here on out, I intend to post at least once a week. I'm trying my damnedest to daily be in the Peace Corps/Armenia mindset. 


Recently, my Armenian study time has been gradually increasing. I make a point to surf the internet for any Armenian news and visit Armenia news outlets. In my limited free time, I also have been trudging through a very dense history of the 1915 genocide. 


'A Shameful Act' written by Taner Akcam is a detailed account of the years leading up to, events of, and aftermath of the Armenian genocide. He was the first Turkish historian to publicly acknowledge the genocide and is considered an international expert on the subject. It's most likely he was very pleased this past week. The French Senate approved a law that criminalizes the denial of genocides that are  officially recognized by France, including the Armenian genocide. Thus was Akcam's reaction: 


"If we want to prevent genocides and mass crimes; if we want to increase the awareness against the crimes of Genocide and crimes against humanity, we should not allow the denialist regimes to bully the democratic nations in the international arena...Turkey must understand that bullying and threatening others is not the behavior of an international actor."


Turkey's feathers are quite ruffled and they have stated that there will be serious trade consequences due to this 'betrayal'. Interestingly, some of Turkey's founding fathers played major roles in the genocide. It is the Turkish belief that the mass deportation and Armenian deaths of 1915 were not a 'genocide'. I was surprised to learn that the American government has yet to officially recognize the genocide.


With this weeks news I find my eventual departure becoming a greater reality. Who could have predicted that in all this time, as the days to my departure dwindle, Armenia is finally getting some international recognition. But, like all politics, it is hard to predict what this will mean for the lives of everyday Armenian citizens. Or even what it might mean for international relations (i.e. Peace Corps). The communities which Peace Corps works in are undereducated and there's a high probability that the average citizen is somewhat oblivious to current events. (This is true in my country, as well). 


But that will just have to be one more thing to wait and see about. 

Things We're Not Taught

     The list could go on forever. So much of what makes us individuals comes from things we learn outside the classroom. Yet, what we are not exposed to in the classroom can be a disadvantage. Today, the term 'disadvantaged' is often used in conjunction with 'youth', commonly referring to large groups of black and latino low-income families. Their disadvantage lies not in their color or household income, but rather the lack of education they've received.
     I had the privilege of working with such a group of about ten teens whom qualify for this label over the summer in Providence, RI at Goodwill Industries. My work as an AmeriCorps VISTA contributed to the education and betterment of this group. At YouthBuild, the goal is to strengthen both the character and skills of individuals. Most are high school dropouts seeking their GED or high school diploma and job skills. They all dropped out for their particular personal reasons, but generally (in my opinion) it is because with their life experience and knowledge they could not see the value of staying in school. Essentially, they didn't know what they were missing out on.
     Lacking the opportunity and encouragement to gain a college degree, my mother raised my brothers and I to value our intelligence and pursue whatever we chose. My father did the same, and with their combined support we all think we're the greatest thing on planet earth. Just kidding... but not really. My point is, I can in no possible way be considered a disadvantaged youth and yet, when I commenced reading about Armenia ( beginning with a book entitled "A Shameful Act" focusing on the genocide) I was embarrassed to realize I know jack shit about everything outside of Western Civilization.
     The Ottoman Empire. Sounds familiar, right? I, like many people, often pretend I know things that I truly only have a vague idea about. I've learned this is how to get people to like you by impressing them with your worldly knowledge. So, the Ottoman Empire, or the OTEP as in my new marble notebook, was a vast Muslim empire the offered it's protective services in exchange for taxes and discrimination. Non-muslims in the OTEP were treated much like black folks were in America after slavery. They were not equal, made to know and accept this, in return for some semblance of rights. The fall of the OTEP, and emergence of independent states resulted in the modern Middle East.
   
This was all news to me, about a week ago. A college graduate. Pathetic.
   
     Oh, the joy in finding a new reason to despise the Western Civ. program enforced upon all Providence College graduates! When unsupportive professors (because those are really the only ones I cared for) joked that the program was the "history of a bunch of dead, white men", they were spot on. It feels like my fellow classmates and I - in a time of war with Middle Eastern countries, no less- were robbed of a full education. Wouldn't it be beneficial for American youths to understand (or even begin to) that the Christian and Muslim communities have been at odds since the dawn of day? That Hitler was not the only man behind a genocide? Or that the British Empire wasn't the only wide spread Empire? It's almost like anything outside Western culture is deemed of no importance or influence in American public education. Well, that's gotten us really far, hasn't it?