Coming Full Circle

Our first week in Armenia, a walk in the mountains!

About two weeks ago I said goodbye to the best friend I made in this country. It’s taken me this long to write about it as I wasn’t entirely sure how I felt, or really how I could articulate my feelings. The morning that we spoke on the phone and she knew it was her time to go, the conversation was fluid and easy. I remember cooking myself breakfast in the now warm kitchen. The night before I’d attended my very first Armenian wedding and had a rather obvious full-circle moment.

As you may remember my very first visit to Malishka was quite alarming. Looking back on it now I wouldn’t react to the same scenario in this country so severely, but the truth is I was scared. I was scared when I first arrived, intimidated by the idea that I couldn’t express myself – a strength and inclination I’ve had my entire life. I was scared that I wasn’t cut out for Peace Corps, that I’d made a huge mistake. In truth, that first trip to Malishka was terrifying.

Site Announcement Day

Anyway, my guide or host was a young woman unable to communicate well in English. She wasn’t even the person I was told I was going to be with that day. She was no one, as far as I was concerned – a random member of the community. Already I was skeptical of the whole situation and then she didn’t stick to the plan I was aware of, the one where I get brought to my host family that has been vetted by the Peace Corps. I knew there was somewhere I was supposed to be and where I’d been brought wasn’t that.  I didn’t like this, not one bit. I didn’t like not being in control. I didn’t like that I had to ride this particular wave.  And yet I had no choice but to ride it, albeit cold sweats and a minor panic attack. Peace Corps had gotten real; I was alone in the middle of bumble fuck Armenia dependent on the good graces of others and depending on the good graces of others is not a thing I’m known for.

A birthday party during training, summer 2012

Flash forward to approximately 20 months later, in a silk party dress I used to wear at bars as an illegal underage patron, shoes from Italy and a simple braid in my hair because the blow dryer broke in the most inconvenient of moments, I watched as this same woman entered the reception hall in her wedding gown. Without realizing it, I was attending her wedding party. All I had known was that the bachelor of the school, the 30ish blue-eyed man that always had the teachers in giggles was finally getting married. I had no idea that he was marrying this particular girl. I laughed for about 30 minutes straight at the irony.

Areni Wine Festival 2012

Of all people in Peace Corps, Phi was going to understand exactly how hilarious this situation truly was. I texted her saying “I’m at my kidnappers wedding” and even though I hadn’t used that term in close to two years, she knew exactly to what I was referring, responding, “HAHAHAAH OMG”.  The next morning I called her after seeing a curious post on a private Facebook group for volunteers. She was offering up her printer, which is the equivalent to gold amongst volunteers. The moment I saw that post I knew what was happening. Later we had the conversation I had been prepared for, the one where I tell her it was the right thing to do, it was time to let go. I was lucky in that my schedule worked out and I got to say goodbye to her in person.

My 26th Birthday

We laughed, we cried and we indulged in our favorite food and drink, all of our favorite past times. The day after saying goodbye to her I was tired and irritable. I went to a performance at the school and encountered my greatest nemesis, snarky teenage boys. They have an uncanny ability to get under my skin and that day was no exception. I walked out of the school feeling beaten up and battered and had a most defeating realization, “There is only one person left. There is only one person in this whole country that I can call to comfort me because Brian is gone and Marisa is gone and now Phi.” It was one of the loneliest moments I have had in my time here. Maybe I am greedy, maybe I should be happy that there is at least one person. And I’m sorry for anyone reading this thinking, “But what about me?”. I can think of a few others who are comforts but they are not Phi, no one can begin to fill her shoes.

The last two weeks have been difficult. I’m mad at Armenia for taking my friend away. I’m jealous that she’s already home. I am tired of feeling tired and beaten up and needy. Then I have days that I want to continue the battle in memory of her … or something. I feel motivated and invigorated, ready to finish strong for the both of us.  In so many ways I feel my service has come full circle. With Phi gone, attending that young woman’s wedding, the start of Spring and the National Poetry Contest on the horizon… my time here is wrapping up. Like Dorothy before she leaves Oz there is a sense of both relief and sadness, a love and a hatred of all that has passed, the hope that calm and serenity will come now that some questions have been answered, and home isn’t really home anymore is it?

Pretty soon I’m going to wake up in my old bed, to sounds and smells so familiar they are a part of me, and wonder if it was all a dream.

I Declare It Spring!

As I write this I'm sitting barefoot in the still strong but fading sun on the stairs outside my house. Frank, as per usual, is crying intermittently in an attempt to be held. All doors leading out are open to let the fresh air into the house. It is warmer in the sun than inside the concrete palace which I reside. I had officially declared winter over after returning from Italy but I knew there was still some volunteers suffering the harsh winter cold. After just returning from Gyumri, where the local volunteers claim the coldest site, I feel safe in making my declaration official. Granted, there are still dangerously icy sidewalks dirtied with snow up there but things are melting consistently.

The weather has finally broken here in Vayots Dzor and with it my mood has lifted. Today I spontaneously baked banana cherry bread. I have had this jar of preserved cherries since last summer and was never able to open it, then this morning violà!  Afterwards Frank and I relaxed in the sunlight together and have been doing so on and off throughout the afternoon. One of the less obvious reasons warm weather is so healthy for me is that I can still enjoy my privacy and separateness but at once feel a part of the community I live in. While I read, the sounds of two siblings playing in the dirt calling out to each other in Armenian while their grandfather sighs over his garden work fades in and out. It reminds me where I am, keeping me grounded here in Armenia

This weekend was a lot more relaxed than the last one. I wrote and then later removed the following post on Facebook:

No doubt the most eventful Valentine's (and perhaps Peace Corps) Day I have ever had. 8:57am urgent phone call from Lauren Michelle that our sitemate Rosie Jeffery's dog (who doesn't have FB and THIS IS THE MOMENT I WANT HER TO!) that she is watching while Rosie is in America, has been violently ill for 48 hours. Hearing the hysteria in her voice, without question I tell Lauren I'll come over. Out the door at 9:05, hoping to have all necessary belongings. Phone call from Liam Johannes about the National Poetry Recitation Contest while waiting for the marshutni (bus). The bus passes by full and I instead hitch a ride from some good samaritan that asks not a single question, not even my destination. Receive a phone call from Meg, checking in with me about Lauren and the pup. Arrive in Yeghegnadzor at 9:30am, walk to Lauren's apartment. Enter Lauren's apartment and see she has cleaned up all the vomit, quaratined the dog in the bathroom and managed to cut open her thumb in the process. I remove my jacket and shoes, grab Lauren's Peace Corps medical kit (because when you're someone's site-mate you JUST KNOW THAT SHIT) wrap and tape her thumb. After triaging, we are out the door at 10:07 and into a taxi with a garbage bag full of vomit covered blankets, sleeping bags, towels, (because the routine hand-wash in this situation is incomprehensible) a newly bathed emaciated puppy, an apple, almonds and a veterinarian in wait. Along the way, our taxi driver comes upon a car accident saying, "One minute, I'm gonna see what's up", (a loose translation of dialect). Turns out a large vehicle had flipped over and was sinking into a decently size frozen pond, having uprooted two large trees. Getting into Yerevan around noon we make the decision to grab red eye iced-coffees and a sandwich to split to go, BECAUSE WHO CAN GO THROUGH THIS WITHOUT FOOD AND CAFFEINE? Prior to arriving at the vet's I told Lauren not to expect our norm having been there before. Arriving around 12:45, the vet greeted us, finishing a cigarette in his office/examination room. He assesses the situation and informs us the dog has Parvovirus, a very dangerous and deadly virus. Due to the fact that I had been with the puppy ( and Frank) when she was originally vaccinated the vet spoke to me as though I was responsible for not having given the second round of vaccinations. The guilt weighed on me as Nali's 2nd round of vac's were sitting in my barren refrigerator. The vet begins to explain that everything he is doing, we too, will need to do three times a day for 3 to 5 days. As has been the go-to mode of operation in Armenia, you merely accept that this just is the way it's going to be - you laugh, because it's absurd, because- SERIOUSLY? The vet begins to administer 14 different shots to the dog while informing us that this is a very, very bad situation. Lauren takes notes as the vet explains to me where and how much medicine needs to be administered. During this process in his most casual manor, the vet accidentally sprayed Lauren with some of the medicine, laughing. Before leaving, on non-descript paper the vet wrote out the needed 'prescription' for the dog. Lauren and I leave, dropping off her laundry at the dry cleaners and then head to the ATM for some cash-flow. At this point, we again assess the situation and start planning out each sentence for the phone call to Jennifer Abeles, being the saviour/founder of this particular puppy. Sitting on a bench to eat our sandwich in the area outside the Opera house, Lauren begins to create a make-shift leash from our taxi-ride-emergency-throw-up-garbage-bags when I spot the Archbishop of our town (the most influential individual in our area), waltzing through the square. I point out Lauren's boss to her as she uses her teeth to rip open the garbage bag for the makeshift leash (supposed to be at work). I really wanted to take a nap at this point. Lauren and I were delirious in our laughter over the situation. After 15 minutes or so we headed to the nearest human pharmacy, after having asked some by-standers where it is located, and bought all of the pup's meds for around 10 USD. Before heading to our bus stop, Lauren and I made sure to take the pup into the supermarket for chocolate, something salty and some gini. We were happy to discover that the marshutni (bus) bosses were cool with the puppy riding along. Home at 6:00 pm to administer 6 shots (ourselves) while the pup cried like a banshee. We have 3 more days to go. Pray Jesus.

Care for a sick puppy- $100

2 Coffees and a sandwich- $10

1 puppy, 2 exhausted volunteers transportation home- $5

Feeling like true Peace Corps Volunteers- Priceless.

Jeez, even looking at it now I understand why people were complaining about the length. I ended up taking the post down after some comments I misunderstood and a long conversation with my brother about whether or not Facebook was the appropriate forum for such a story. We argued our points back and forth; he stating that if I was looking for an outlet, perhaps calling a friend would have been a better option and I understood his point. Another reason I took the post down was because two days later, more than 20 injections and a lot of suffering on the part of the puppy and the humans involved this 4 month old pup, Nali, died in her sleep. I didn't want to make the death of this dog a lighthearted Facebook/ Peace Corps anecdote. Also, the somewhat brag-like tone in the final sentences as the AMEX commercials was in no way a reflection of our attitudes. 

The experience of trying to save this puppy's life against all odds was a huge learning lesson in Armenian culture. We were lucky that the pup passed in her sleep, otherwise we were going to be responsible for euthanizing her. Two different Armenian vets insisted we continue the medicinal treatments, despite the fact the dog had a 20% chance to live. This would have never happened at home in the states. The veterinarian we met in our local town, Yeghegnadzor, was more open about how wrong he felt it was for us to intentionally put Nali down. He crossed himself saying, "This thing isn't done in Armenia, no one does this, I will not do it... if you want, leave her in the mountains." It was a hard thing to have the professionals in the room making Lauren and I feel like bad people for doing what we as Americans find more humane and reasonable. 

The irony in the vets aversion to putting the pup to sleep is in the flip side of Armenian attitudes toward domesticated animals. I don't want to sit here and put behaviors on blast without making it clear that there is a hierarchy of needs here in Armenia. Yeah, we have internet and electricity and cellphone service. Yes, a good majority of people have running water, but this is ultimately a developing country. Many Armenians can not afford proper health care, if any at all. Why would they even begin to give a shit about the animals around them that don't provide any source of food or income (aka cats and dogs)? The mistreatment of animals in this country is something every volunteer faces at one point or another. Some of us grow a thick cultural skin, feeling it's not something that can be changed. Others remain sensitive and make efforts to impress ideas of animals rights upon Armenians they are in relationship with. Personally, the issue of animal rights is something I want to leave alone. I care for my cat, really I love Frank dearly but after my experience with a sick animal I acutely felt how ridiculous all that we went through might seem from an outsider's perspective. 

Case in point was the reaction of my friends at school when I explained why my weekend was so terrible. "Oh a dog died?!?! Carolyn! I was worried there for a second!", and I knew this was going to be the case, so it didn't upset me. It's the reality of where I live and it is something I feel I must accept. I hate to sound so callous, but the truth of it is I feel most at peace as a volunteer when I surrender to the norm. The rock in the river flowing.

I am me and they are them and that is all. 

One of the Good Ones

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

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

Movsisyan in Siranush's house taken with Photobooth

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"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

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.

Summertime And The Livin's Easy

Hey There Beautiful/Handsome!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

Quotes Of The Week: "MARIAH!"

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

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

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

Brotherhood (Malishka)

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

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

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

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

Meg is a boss.

Kevin plays human knot with my babes!

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

First dinner on the 'patio'.

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

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

Putting the boys to work.

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

B2B in Malishka!

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

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

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

South Team and my family.

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

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


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


And now, let normal life resume...

1 Year Mark (...or... Mid-Service Crisis)

Last Saturday was the one year anniversary of my arrival in Armenia. Several friends posted something on Facebook, whether it was a shout out or a "I should have something to say but I don't" sort of post, most of us take a long (or brief) look over our shoulders that day. Quite honestly, I have completely forgotten how I felt on that particular day. I know that there were several days leading up to the 25th of May that I thought "I should be thinking about this", and then would worry about something else. There has been so much going on the in the last month, and upcoming in the month of June, that my thoughts are all over the place.

There are some things that I need to catch you all up on. Where did we leave off? Oh right, my birthday (which was exactly what it needed to be thanks to a few good friends and a quick but strong rain storm). During the month of May, school was not exactly in session. Every week there was one or two holidays, and some of them consecutive. I think I went to school a total of 10 times in the month of May (possibly less). I had the honor of creating some final exams, about which my counterpart was very excited to print out papers to all the children.

The weekend before the last week of school my dear friend Brian, held a 5k at his site. Several volunteers went down to support him. I travelled there on a marshutni (bus) with my site-mate and friend Lauren, our friend Meg and her new puppy Mia, as well as Meg's site-mate (and my friend) Branwen and my friend Phi's site-mate Kelsey. We went to the bus station early, and luckily got the last seats on the bus. We were chatting a bit before the bus left and more or less got told to shut up by another passenger. We then confirmed she had indeed shushed us, and continued talking. I was lucky enough to sit next to puppy Mia and she very cutely slept and nuzzled between Meg and I on the hour long ride. We were all staying at the Sport's School where Brian works, so it was like one big sleepover.

That night we ate and played some games. I got to play basketball for a little while, which brought back a lot of memories from my childhood. It inspired me to dream up a future bacherlorette weekend with my girlfriends from home that will include a game of 5v5. The next morning we all prepared to run the 5k, and helped the kids decorate their numbers. They were so excited to run, and most showed up close to two hours in advance. After the race, Meg, Mia, Lauren and I rushed back to the capitol to run some errands and wait for the arrival of my expected cats. Unfortunately, the volunteer who I was adopting them from did not manage to convince her Armenian friend to hand over the Mama cat, and arrived only with the son. This 1 year old was non too happy about the arrangement and cried for 90 minutes of our taxi ride back to site. Once home, I let him out of the cat carrier and promptly prepared food and a litter box in my kitchen. He promptly hid under the fridge. About three hours later, before bed I made sure that he was safely out from underneath the fridge and laid down for the night. Around 2am I awoke to relieve myself and went to check on Stringer Bell's status. After a few minutes of no response, I turned on the light for a better look. He was nowhere to be found! It was then that I noticed the petals from the flower on the windowsill scattered on the floor. Low and behold, he had pried open the window with his paws. Since the great escape, there have been two sightings of Stringer Bell. The first, by my neighbor and student Tigran, next me about a week ago. I called to him, but it seems he has chosen the life of a kitty on the run. Thus is life.

In Armenia there is the tradition of 'Last Bell' on the final day of school. It is treated as graduation for the seniors, but considered a communal holiday. I arrived to school around 9:30 and waited in teacher's lounge with my colleagues for the festivities to begin. Mother's of the 12th grade brought champagne, fruits and a large cake into the teacher's lounge. Then, all 15 of the seniors lined up inside the room and waited for the arrival and the Mayor and his sidekick. Both gave congratulatory speeches around 3 minutes long. Afterwards, we popped the bubbly and dug in. I must say that I really enjoy watching everyone during these events. I find it particularly entertaining taking notices of the similarities and differences in human behavior in different cultures. It tickles my fancy to realize that no matter where you are, someone will be sneaking extra drinks. About 15 minutes later, we all went down the the auditorium to watch the performance of the 12th graders. Each year, the students and their homeroom teacher do something different. Generally, it includes dancing and songs, as well as some comedy. I am really looking forward to next year's as I have closer relationships with some of the girls in that year, and their homeroom teacher is quite ... interesting.

Since the school year is over, I have been trying to prepare for a lazy summer. One afternoon was spent scything overgrown weeds in a section of my garden and setting up metal boxes to lay out and get a tan. I like this place a lot, because I feel hidden from everyone and can let a little more skin show. It's also soothing to listen to the constant chatter of various bird species occupying the trees.  I also got to visit Brian one last time before he leaves the country in July.  He invited me to lead a yoga class at the sport's school during his fitness class time. We got to spend some time at his Music School, where I sang like the raspy lounge singer I've always dreamed of becoming. This weekend, I helped my other sitemate, Elisabeth clean up and move out of her house for the summer. Her landlord is returning, and she won't have a place to live again until end of August / September. At the moment, she is homeless.

Whew!

In four days I will begin the Border2Border project with five other volunteers in the South of Armenia. Simultaneously, another group of 6 will begin in the North Region. Both groups will walk for twenty one days and meet up in the middle, which just so happens to also conveniently be my site! I chose to walk for only 10 days, and I am glad I made this decision. Not only for physical reasons, but because that is as many days as I can stand to be constantly surrounded by other people. Before we leave, I will finish up the grant report for the National Poetry Contest, and complete my VRF (Volunteer Reporting Form) which is required every quarter, and very much loathed by all volunteers.

In other news, I finally gave in and bought an electric beater to satisfy my high standard for chocolate chip cookies and other baked goods. I also picked up ice cube trays (yay, iced coffee!), a new neon green colander and a well over-due welcome mat.  Also, my friend Phi and I have begun planning our COS (Close of Service) trip to India, Nepal and Tibet. I am so ecstatic about this adventure! And lastly, but by no means least, my brother and his girlfriend recently got engaged! They have asked me to officiate the wedding next late summer / early fall.  I told them I would accept this offer if they allowed me to wear a crown during the ceremony. In the meantime, I have been spending a lot of time looking for the perfect dress.

Ok kiddos, that's all for me right now. I'm sorry my posts haven't been to enlightening or thought provoking these days. I swear, once B2B is done - I will once again begin pontificating.


Quotes Of The Month: "DUDE, you just ate my bad ju-ju nut!"
"And then I realized, I ...live...in...Armenia." (one year later)

Follow our Border2Border blog here: http://walkacrossarmenia.wordpress.com/

Catch-Up

Hello Babies,

Sorry for my extended delay in writings, things have been quite hectic. Every time I sat down to write, I found it difficult to gather my thoughts or decide upon the topic/ theme. I am going to attempt to briefly summarize some of the goings on since my last post.

New House/ Neighbors:

I am absolutely loving being in my new place (which I feel you are all aware of anyways…). One of the unexpected adjustments to moving is managing relationships with my neighbors. At this point, I have only gone for coffee with my neighbors directly across the street. The brother and sister that live there are both of my students. The boy, Tigran is in the 4^th grade and while he’s not a great student he is a very sweet little boy. His sister, Ophelia is in the 7^th grade and equally sweet.  Their enthusiasm to be close with me is pretty adorable, but sometimes can be annoying. They come knocking at the door nearly everyday. I decided that to balance things, I would agree to tutor them once a week – hoping that 40 minutes of my undivided attention would mean less house visits. This hasn’t exactly been the case, but to a certain extent.

All of the other neighbors have expressed interest in being guests at my house. Yet, the idea of strangers coming in and going through my house and things, asking questions and expecting to be ‘guest loved’ is not my cup of tea.  One of the challenges as a Peace Corps Volunteer is dealing with a lot of unwanted attention. We are so accustomed to being more or less anonymous in America, that having everyone in town know who you are – whether or not you have met them- can at times be overwhelming. Anyone could enter (the bottom half) Malishka, ask about the American girl living in the village, and be pointed in the direction of my house.  I hope to one day meet more of my neighbors, but I am taking it one step at a time.  At the moment, I’m perfectly content with the amount of neighbors I have met.

Poetry Contest:

The National Poetry Contest was held last Sunday, May 5^th. I can’t say exactly that it went off without a hitch- but in general it was a success. I was lucky to have the priceless help of my friends Phi and David the morning of the Contest. It is because of them that I was able to get through that very long day.  It was really cool seeing all of the kids recite their poems. All of them did an amazing job, and while the two students from Malishka did not place – it was a proud moment to watch them recite their poems. I have a lot of plans next year on how to makeover the Contest and look forward to implementing them with the help of current and new volunteers. A special thanks also, to my site mate and friend Elisabeth for helping my kids get safely to the capital in my absence. 

My favorite part of this day was riding on the bus home with my friend Phi and two students.

Softball:

Recently, the American Embassy softball games have been opened up to the public.  Two weekends in a row I was able to attend and play in these games. The first weekend, there were only a few volunteers, some other non-embassy people and a group of Armenian men. The Armenians had never played softball/ baseball before and it was pretty comical watching them learn how to play. It was like watching a t-ball game, but all the players are grown men. Afterwards, the man who organizes the games invited us back to his gorgeous home for my first American style BBQ since living in Armenia.  That whole day was perfect, with beautiful weather, good company and good food. Hopefully I will get a chance to play again!

Birthday:

Two weekends ago I celebrated my 26^th birthday. This is the first time that I have celebrated a birthday outside of the country, without my family. While there have been years I wasn’t with my family day-of, we were always able to have dinner and cake a week before or after. Luckily, my best friend Phi was gracious and kind enough to take a weeks vacation from her site to stay with me throughout the week. I give her a lot of credit for having patience with my birthday blues self. Throughout the week she cooked, cleaned, made me breakfast in bed and gave massages! Woop, woop! It was wonderful not to be alone on my birthday and I’m grateful is here with me in Armenia. In total, I had four birthday celebrations. 

The Long Awaited House Photos

                                              Looking from the 'dining room' into the kitchen.

                                                                                 Kitchen

                                                                Looking at the front door.

                                                            My own personal dressing room.

                                                                               Living Room

                                                                            Living Room

                                                                     Bed in the living room

                                                        The view outside my 2nd story doorstep!

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!"