Hard Times Come, Hard Times Go

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And well shiiiiit, am I getting a lesson.

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

Song Of The Week: Gin Wigmore- Happily Ever After

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

Dearest Babies, Lovas and Friends,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sprung!

With the mountainside in my view, the sun splashing the kitchen walls, I sit and write this as the fire burns and breakfast’s potatoes sizzle in my new non-stick pan. This is my second morning to wake in the house which I will be in until at least October.  While there are drawbacks, like the non existent bathroom ( but there’s an outhouse) and the bare cement walls (which my brother noted made it look like I was in the newest SAW movie), I am happy to be here. There is a wild satisfaction engendered by cleaning all of my own dishes, organizing things in the kitchen (and every where else) into the precise way I want them. It’s mine. 

Now that I have total control over my environment, I have very high expectations of myself. I no longer want to melt into a make believe world watching movies or TV shows on my computer. There is no reason for me to sit in my room for hours on end anymore. Luckily, there have been times in my life when the last thing I felt like doing was turning on the TV and so my challenge will not be as great as possible. Recently, I can’t stop thinking about my favorite little paradise on earth, Lake George. Only, it’s not just the body of water and land that is Lake George that I yearn for, it is the summertime Huletts Landing Community as well.

Last summer I didn’t find myself wishing for this oasis at all. With all the new sensory experiences, there almost wasn’t room for missing anything. Now that my group’s year anniversary in Armenia creeps closer, I think we are all reflecting on the time that has passed. Not only are we seeing how very fresh and fragile we were upon arrival – but also we are remembering why we are here and what we sought in coming. I’ve been having a lot of conversations with my friends here and it seems we are all coming around this first year bend. We know what we want to focus on and how exactly we are going to approach that goal, we know who our friends truly are and finally, we just watched our first year flash in an instant. With this is in mind, we are all taking mental note to accomplish whatever it was we sought from the beginning.

I know that one of the things I desired most was an opportunity to take a large step back from my reality and realize what is was I needed to be happy.  Already I am seeing a much greater difference than before, understanding that some things are far more important to me than I had previously realized.  For one, cooking meals daily and entertaining folks semi-regularly is a great passion of mine. I’d forgotten how much I love to host get-togethers. Lengths of uninterrupted silence is yet another need that I have discovered. While I had known that each of these things were enjoyable for me, I didn’t quite understand how it would affect me were they to be taken away.  Huletts Landing has always been a place where I could have many of my needs met. There is such a serenity in the atmosphere and people , joy in the voices of children and an attitude that whatever you want to do to make yourself happy, just go ahead and do it. I miss that sort of freedom, I value that freedom.

One of the greatest challenges of my Peace Corps service will be the limitations of freedom as a young American woman. Yet with the new house, I get to spread my wings that much more than before. And Lordy-lord, does it feel good.

Mama, Mama I'm Coming Homeeee

Well, technically I already am. As I write this, Soleil is sitting next to me, complaining, "You talk in a different way." Once I started showing off my Armenian to her, every time I correct her English, she claims to not understand me. The title of this blogpost comes from an Ozzy Osbourne song that I often heard growing up, and was stuck in my head for all twenty hours of my travel time. Once I landed in New York - with no sleep since I was in Armenia - and saw an entire group of women standing around smoking, the song changed to "I'm in a New York State Of Mind" and also "AMERICA  F-YEAH".

Then, I got in the car with my mother and headed over to my great aunt's wake. I was dirty and smelly, in the same clothes for the last couple of days. I wasn't expecting to be going straight there, but we needed to pick my father up. "Everyone's waiting for you," my mother explained. First things first, we stopped off at a pizza joint to grab a slice of some New York pizza. I felt compelled to tell the girl behind the counter that this would be my first slice of heaven in over six months and that she should feel honored.

Now, I want to give ya'll some back story on what awaited me at the funeral parlor. While Patricia Hennessy was a 'distant' relative, I've known her and most of her descendants my whole life. My grandmother, Patricia, and their brother all bought summer homes within the Huletts Landing community on Lake George in upstate New York, sometime in the 1970's. My grandmother and her brother Luke had eight children and Patricia had ten. A good majority of those twenty six cousins got married, had children of their own and are now grandparents. All in all, at the time of her death Patricia alone had around 35 grandchildren and 26 great-grandchildren. Throughout my life, I have spent two to three weeks at a time at Lake George in the summer, sometimes knowing who my third cousins were and sometimes not. Ironically, I did not find out until about five years ago that one of the cousins' whom I most strongly resemble, was in fact a family member. The families that have homes in Huletts are a sort of family in and of themselves, and I have the element of actually being related to a great number of those people.

What I'm trying to get at here, is that when I entered the funeral parlor - it was pretty overwhelming. Some people knew I was returning, others did not, but they all had a ton of questions. For just having traveled 20 hours, with no sleep - I think I handled it pretty well. The first twenty-four hours home in general were overwhelming, but not in the way that you are thinking. I was surprised at how easy it was to slip back into the life I left behind. I had no idea what to expect about returning- what it would feel like, if I would experience culture shock, etc. The next morning, as my brother and I were driving home from the burial he asked me what I saw. I didn't really understand the question, so I explained that it was easier to be home than expected. He pushed further, asking, "No- what are you seeing, right now look around - what do you see?". "Money," I replied. "Money, and people who have places to be, jobs and things to buy."

So, I've got three weeks left in America. I am already missing my Peace Corps family to death. In a way - I feel like I am in this weird time limbo. I was able to come back, and pick up where I left off - even go to the same yoga class. Back home, it feels as though time has stood still here in many ways and gone on in others. While for me, I have seen and experienced so much in the short six months since leaving home, that it's hard to resolve those two ideas. I don't really know where to begin. A few folks have asked me, "How was your trip?" At first, I found this a little insulting. Six months is a little more than a 'trip'. Armenia is my home now, that's where my life takes place currently. And yet, now - it does feel like a trip - in the slang definition. (ie: That show was a real trip, man.)

So. Yeah. Armenia's been a real trip.

... and I can't wait to get back!

Song of the Week: Grateful Dead - Truckin'
Quote of the Week: "If ya press this button hea, it gets one more hotta." TJ


Special thanks to the following for lending a helping hand during a difficult and trying time the week before I left Armenia: Phi Nyguen, Brian Bohkart, Chris Sherwood, Marisa Mitchell, Chris Boyle, Lauren Leary, David Lillie, David Corsar and of course, my super amazing host family.

Settling In

Hey Babies

I miss you, I love you!

I just had an awkward experience where my host mother’s family came over around 9pm at night and her nephew told me “ I would like you in my house” in English. Things just keep getting more and more interesting…

I get internet about three times a week and for two of those days it’s only for two hours. Once I get to my permanent site, it will be more regular. I have finally gotten myself a working phone and it’s so nice to be in contact with the volunteers not located in my village. It definitely lightens up the day when I get an ABSURD text from a friend that I can giggle to myself about.  For those of you interested in sending me presents, love notes, or pictures of yourself to put up on my wall then ask me and I will send you my address in an private email or message.

I have been able to get some sort of physical activity in at least once a day. There are two other women that I practice yoga with two times a week. It is such a pleasure to have these ladies in Akunk so that we may relax and rejuvenate together. I am so pleased with myself for having purchased a travel size, battery operated boom box thingy. (It’s cool as hell and all I want to do is put on some futuristic outfit and walk around with the little guy on my shoulder).   If you’re looking for something portable with good sound quality, check out Logitech.  It is exactly what I need and the envy of all my friends. (I made that up). I really must say, I brought a lot of unnecessary clothing but my speakers, yoga mats and essential oils have been so imperative in this transition. With these things, I can easily get back to a place of normalcy and calm. Interestingly enough, I have not really had to ‘get back’ to that place, as I’ve  yet to stray too far away from equilibrium.

Maybe it hasn’t hit me yet, but I feel totally at ease about where I am. Of course, there have been some minute challenges in the last couple of weeks. At times I have been irritable, exhausted and overwhelmed but all of these moments have been passing and temporary. Now that my host family’s situation has returned to normal everything else seems inconsequential. I’m amazed at how much I have been able to pick up the language thus far.  This morning on my walk to school (which takes about 7 minutes) I came upon a neighbor that I have yet to see. I was able to have a fluid interaction with her and could understand what she said to me. It was so exciting!!!

I got placed into the group of advanced speakers when we first arrived and a lot of Armenians have been complimenting me on my Armenian, so my confidence is pretty high right now. I don’t always get things right in class, but I sound good. As far as I am concerned, if you have the correct grammar but you can’t pronounce the words correctly, it sort of defeats the point. But hey, that’s just how I feel annndddd I probably feel that way because my grammar sucks but I pronounce things very well.

So, the other morning I was dreaming that I was in upstate New York, where my family’s summer home is on Lake George. In real life, I was invited to the annual 4^th of July party on Facebook. In the dream, I was at the party. It was early in the day and I was distressed because I was supposed to be in Armenia!!  I just recall being confused that I wasn’t there and wondering how I was going to get back. I awoke with a jolt and was totally surprised to find myself actually in Armenia in my comfortable little warm bed. I thought it was interesting. My immediate family members probably will not think so, as they have been listening to my dream recollections and expected to be as fascinated with my subconscious as I was my whole life. Ha. Maybe you can find some meaning in the dream!

Hope ya’ll are doing well!

Cold Feet

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

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

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

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

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

The vagabond who's rapping at your door

 Is standing in the clothes that you once wore

Strike another match, go start anew

And it's all over now, baby blue

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