Nothing But The Water

I have seen

What man can do

When the evil lives inside of you

Many are the weak and the strong are few

but with water, we'll start anew

Won't you take me down

to the levy

take me down

to the stream

take me down

to the water

We're gonna wash our souls clean

Take me down 

to the river

take me down 

to the lake

Yes, we'll all go together

We're gonna do it for the good lord's sake

I have fallen so many times

for the devil's sweet cunning rhymes

this old world has brought me pain

but there's hope for me again

Won't you take me down

to the levy

take me down

to the stream

take me down

to the water

We're gonna wash our souls clean

Take me down 

to the river

take me down 

to the lake

Yes, we'll all go together

We're gonna do it for the good lord's sake

I've tried my hand at the Bible

tried my hand at prayer

but now nothin' but the water

is gonna bring my soul to bear

but now nothin' but the water

is gonna bring my soul

to bear. 

Listen to "Nothing But the Water" by Grace Potter

Tsaghadzor

Hello my beloved followers, secret stalkers, lovers and friends. Yet another month (two!!) has passed by without a posting by yours truly. Just recently I was telling my Aunt Therese that I suppose I've been feeling uninspired as of late; that it just feels like the same-old, same-old. While that's true to a certain degree, it's not the entire truth. Before I update ya'll on thangs I'd first like to explain why I posted these song lyrics. 

About a month ago I had drafted this post, with these lyrics as you see them. I had just returned from my final All Volunteer conference in Tsaghadzor. The conference was scheduled over Halloween weekend so volunteers wanted to enjoy their time in the evening and this year a talent show was organized. For anyone who has known me for any length of time they will know how much I love performing for people, or no one at all it doesn't actually matter. Anyway, I never got around to officially signing up before the conference but I was in luck as not too many others had as well and the MC's opened up the floor for whomever felt inspired. I of course, could not pass down this opportunity. I hadn't prepared anything so I decided to sing the first song that came into my head. I also was inspired my friend Phi's performance (which you can watch here). The song carries a lot of meaning for her and while she was singing, the only song that felt appropriate to follow up with was 'Nothing But The Water' by Grace Potter. I strongly identify with this song and most of my family members and friends have already been forced to listen to it as I find it so powerful; but for those of you who have not please have a listen into the deep recesses of my psyche.

It feels a bit overwhelming to try and recount in great detail the goings-on of the last few months. There was some drama with my counterparts at the school but that situation was resolved and things are back to their usual  one part gratifying, two parts frustrating normalcy. Things that frustrate me at school are the general culture and atmosphere at the school. It's also frustrating that these things are still frustrating. One wants to believe that after being in a place for 20 months that they would become accustomed to attitudes and behaviors but I suppose some things are just immutable.

Frank in his spot.

I believe I mentioned previously that I was given a teenage kitty by my host father back in the middle of October. At first he was very scared and spent most of his time hiding under the bed or staying within five feet of my person. Now, 1.5 months later he insists on being held in some form or fashion at all moments of the day that I am not moving around (and sometimes even when I'm moving around.) It's heart warming to have this little animal be so obsessed with me. My favorite part about living with Frank is that each evening and morning he will crawl into the covers of my bed and curl up under my chin into my neck. I've had many cats in my life, but none that I've raised on my own and I've definitely turned him into the ultimate lover cuddle kitty. I like to complain about it to my friends but they all know how much I love it.

Thanksgiving crew

Once again this year I celebrated Thanksgiving in the southern most part of the country, Meghri. Last year we were at Tall Tom's place in a nearby village but this year my good friend David hosted us in his most energetically positive home. (Check out how close we were to the Iranian border here!) This Thanksgiving was quite possibly one of the most enjoyable in recent memory. David and Jessica planned a two day extravaganza of crafting and cooking. I was happy to arrive in Meghri a day early to have David and his house all to myself. I am not so sure that Frank agrees with this sentiment but I was sure to save him a kitty treat to serve him once returning from my four day vacation.

My metro stop

About a week ago my wood stove was finally installed. At the beginning of November my site-mate Elisabeth and I had purchased a total of six cubic meters of wood together. Her half was sent over to her nearby village of Shatin while the rest remained with me. At the time, I was still comfortable enough to have only my space heater on. Yet, just as in most of American right now- the last two weeks have been pretty chilly and snowy. I love having my wood stove but GOOD LORD is it a lot of work. I'm lucky enough to be familiar with starting fires in my parent's wood stove back in New York but I am working with the 1990 Toyota of a wood stove while they have a 2013 Cadillac. I am hoping that I will eventually get over the difference and learn to simply enjoy the fact that for the most part I am toasty and warm.

Marshutni ( in summer)

In other news, volunteers recently had a gathering in Yerevan to celebrate Christmas before folks started heading home for the holidays. It's incredible to me that this time last year I was at home, hanging out in my parent's hot tub imbibing all the best chilled white wines I could lay my hands on. I can NOT believe that was already one year ago. Throughout my time in Armenia it has never ceased to surprise me how fast time moves.

A bad decision

Anyway, the day after the party my other site-mate Rosie and I decided to travel back home together. Typically this drive takes about 2.5 hours and it takes around 30 minutes to get from the center of Yerevan to our bus stop. On my way over to the bus station it had been raining but by the time the marshutni (pictured left) departed there were already big fat snow flakes coming down at a good rate. I looked at Rosie saying, "It's going to be a long ride today." Little did I know that the particular marshutni we were seated in was in no way equipped to handle the weather conditions. The only reason we made it over the mountain was because after four hours a good samaritan in an Army Jeep towed us with a thick metal chain. The entire experience was at once exhausting, terrifying, hilarious and absurd. After 8 hours of traveling, I finally hopped off at the side of the road outside Malishka. Then I peed my pants, then once I got home I realized the power was out in the whole neighborhood, AND THEN I realized I had locked Frank's food and water in a separate room, explaining his erratic and disconcerting behavior upon my arrival home. Now, one might expect to cry in this situation out of frustration. I was in surivival mood though, making sure to change my pants, feed the cat and start a fire in the dark. Thank god for trusty flashlights! Just another day in Armenia, folks! You can read a more detailed account of our journey, written by Rosie here.

Saying goodbye to my dear friend, Marisa, a volunteer who ended her service early.

In other news: The latest winter fashion in Armenia is the classic peacoat. Half of the female teachers in school have recently purchased one and I'm glad to know that my trusty old grey guy has suddenly become fashionable once again. It's nice to wear something right once in a while.

Next On Carolyn's Blog: Christmas is Ruined!... It was a Christmas Miracle!!!

Shows I've been obsessively watching: Breaking Bad, Mad Men, Mob Wives and The Daily Show
A book I read: My Name Is Red by Orhan Pamuk
A Song I've been listening to: TKO Justin Timberlake

A quote: "I GOT YOUR DAD!!!!"

Border2Border Part I: Hitting The Road to Kapan

Note: Due to the fact that there is SO much to say, I have decided to split the post into three parts. This is the beginning.

Babies! Lovas! Oh, how I have missed thee! I must admit, most of you were not on my mind throughout the last month, as Border2Border literally took over my life. Although, there was one person on my mind the whole time. My walk was dedicated to my dear, life long friend Kaitlin. At the moment she is facing her own challenges with great strength and courage. Throughout the walk I was wearing the necklace that she made for me prior to leaving for Armenia. Every time that the I wanted to stop, that I thought I couldn't take another step, I reached for the beads around my neck and carried on. I made it through the walk and then some; I know she will do the same. I love you, babygirl.


   So anyway, we last left off with me a mild nervous wreck, butterflies in stomach as I awaited the arrival of the girls. Together we rode six hours south, arriving in Meghri around dinner time. The car ride was beautiful and once in our final destination the temperature difference was apparent. It was as though we left late Spring and entered full blown Summer. My dear friend, David, was gracious enough to open his home up to my teammates and I. We were at his 'Summer House' for two nights preparing for the walk ahead. David participated in Border2Border as well, but walked in the North. We had our final showers, hot meals and rest before gearing up for the three week walk ahead of us. On the final evening in Meghri, my anxiety levels were at an uncomfortable level, so I did the right thing- and began my yoga practice. David's home has a second story balcony/porch that overlooks the mountainside, facing west. As the sun burned itself into evening, I flowed like I haven't in months. I feel it was David's existing energy in the house that facilitated such a practice. I love you too, babyboy.

      Alright, there is one more shout-out to get through before I get to the walk itself. Next is my dear Aunt Therese. Before leaving for Armenia she took me out to a nice lunch and then insisted we shop around. She wanted me to pick out something that would without a doubt become handy. We entered this quaint, overcrowded shop full of pretty little hand made things. It took me all of 5 minutes to find the glass case of mahogany dyed leather bound journals, and all but 30 seconds to know which one I wanted.

This little guy kept me sane throughout the walk. You're a doll Auntie Therese, I lover you!

      On the morning of June 7th after a sleepless night, we set out for our first teaching site in Shvanidzor. Due to Iranian border restrictions we were unable to walk this length of the route. It was surreal driving along the fence that separates the two countries, as a place that was once only a name on the television became a mountain-scape before my eyes. Once in Shvanidzor, Tom Cyrs helped set us up with the school. Our first day of teaching was a great success and around noon we headed out with six students for the hike ahead.

       For the next 6 hours we walked at a relatively steep incline for 17 kilometers (10 miles), heavy packs weighing us down. This walk was, at least for me, the most difficult of all. Most of the time I was with Meg and her dog Mia. At one point we felt totally alone and decided this was a good opportunity to play the screaming game. The point is to see who can yell the most powerfully. We were enjoying this challenge, until a group of roadside workers came scrambling along the road. They thought we were being murdered; we explained we were weird Americans playing a game. They then invited us to a 'chill' spot where we could rest and drink some water. We naively assumed it was a legitimate establishment, but it really just ended up being their truck and a blanket. We got our water bottles filled and got out of there.
      Just at the point of exhaustion, we made it to our destination for the evening. We stayed in the 'dacha' (Russian for summer home), of a previous volunteer's family. A little old lady who lived up on a hill had been awaiting our arrival all day. She  served us tea, bread and cheese before we all passed out for the evening around 8pm. The next morning we got an early start around 7:30. It wasn't until 3pm that the estimated 23 kilometers (14 miles) had been walked. The only problem was, we were in the middle of nowhere and not the village of Tsav. After everyone got a turn at the map, it was clear that we had been marked to the river Tsav, not the village. There were another 3 miles to go. Nobody was happy about this turn of events.

      Once in Tsav, our spirits were lifted by the hospitality that awaited us there. We were welcomed by the Mayor and a woman associated with the school we would be teaching at the next day. The school's neighbor saw our arrival and decided to feed us. She brought us jarred sauce, fresh cheese, greens, mashed potatoes and bread. That night we slept on the floor of the school's gym. In the morning we woke to teach the kids. One little baby, Tigran, became my new best friend. This sweet little four year old hung out with me all day as I taught, took pictures and did whatever tasks needed doing.

After teaching, Kevin arranged for a bus to take us about 10 kilometers outside our next destination, the city of Kapan. During the downhill we kept focused on the cold beers, hot pizza and the showers that awaited us. There are three volunteers in the city, one of whom happens to be a close friend of mine. Marisa is the 65 year old version of me. She says what she wants, how she wants, and pulls no punches. What most people don't realize is that she is as authentic and loyal as it gets. Once she loves, you're in forever and stay that way. I am lucky enough to be one of those on the inner circle and got to have a nice bed all to myself while some of my other teammates remained on the floor with another volunteer. I practically collapsed onto her floor when I arrived at her apartment. While the first walk was the hardest, after this third day of strain my body knew it could shut down and sort of did so. It was close to 45 minutes until I could move myself to the bathroom for an hour long shower. 

    The next day we taught in Kapan at the American Corners. After another night of luxury, we had a short walk to the nearby town of Syunik. There we were greeted by singing children, a traditionally braided bread with dipping salt, and our most hospitable director of all the sites combined. This man was jovial, charismatic, and welcoming. It was our biggest turnout yet, and the first time we got to do the environmental bottle project ( empty plastic bottles used to create plant pots).

   As we were leaving the school to head back towards Kapan, a woman and her two daughters invited us back to their house for lunch. This is very common in Armenian culture. They have this incredible ability to go from a normal average day, to the most amazing hosts you could imagine. They don't begrudge the lack of notice and take great pride in the hot food and strong drinks put on the table. We had a wonderful lunch with this family, and left with a bouquet of flowers and a bottle of homemade. To say the least our spirits were soaring high on our way out of Kapan. 

In my mind, this is part one of the trip. It is more vivd in my mind than the middle and took a lot more out of me physically than any other part. A huge thanks to David Corsar, Marisa Mitchell, Terrance Stevenson and Tom Cyrs for making it all possible. You guys are gems :)


Memorable Quotes: 
"Your demon voice lacks a certain baritone."
"Himself."
"Bad Ju-Ju, man, bad ju-ju."
"I feel like I'm in a North Korean war camp with these goddamn rice balls." 
"It's the husband, it's always the husband." (In regards to a marathon of SVU)
"Ok, I'm not talking for an hour."
"Nooooo, crazy-pants."

Songs Listened to Repeatedly While Walking:

"New York State Mind" Billy Joel
"Let Me Talk To You" Justin Timberlake
"Bad Romance" Lady Gaga
"Heads Will Roll" Yeah Yeah Yeahs
"Jigsaw Falling Into Place" Radiohead

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/

How Can I Explain?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

An Act of Kindness

That's what Peace Corps is hypothetically all about, right? Being good to those less fortunate than you, and all that other Lifetime feel good stuff. I realize that I rarely divulge information about anything outside of what's going on in my head, the friends I visit and other positive things. If you have the honor of speaking with me offline or are a PCV also, you know well that there is much more going on behind the scenes. That sometimes I leave school after only three classes, because I feel my head is going to explode with frustration with my counterpart. And somedays, I want to scream on the top of my lungs at the children.

If I'm wholly honest, all of January was a tough month for me. There were a few highlights, yes - like the bathtubs and traveling to see my friends. On a whole though- it was the most difficult month that I have had in service so far. I know where I'm hitting glass ceilings and it's utterly infuriating. I want to reach these kids, for them to like me, respect me and realize that I'm not a joke or a party planner or a babysitter. I am their teacher and I feel this is a fact often forgot.

The twin sisters that I live with, I am not going to call them my sisters (as many other PCVs do with their host family) because that would give you the wrong idea about our closeness. These girls have made it a point to distance themselves from me socially. I suspect their friends don't think I'm 'cool', and for crying out loud they are fifteen years old - the most wretched age of all, so there is quite a bit of distance between us. They are in the 10th grade and their classmates are at a precipice in their educational careers. There are few that will go on to University, as scholarships and such are not readily available here, and there are maybe two or three kids that can afford the tuition. And so there are few who care to try hard in class. They know the game: come to school on time, sit, make minimal disruptions, go home. Two years left and then mundane adult life will begin.

You may remember that there are no systems in place to punish students for bad behavior. Unfortunately, we were given no training in the ways of classroom management. In fact, we were assured that this responsibility was solely that of our Armenian counterparts. In my case, this is practically a joke. In many cases, the students are more likely to listen to me than to her. It's incredibly exhausting, frustrating, and makes me think 'I don't want children'. Last week, I hit my breaking point with the 10th grade. I had created a lesson where they had 'Agree' and 'Disagree' signs that I wanted them to hold up in response to questions like "My life will be better if I can speak English''. The plan was to hold a discussion where I would hopefully convince some students to care more about English class.

Well, they were so disruptive that we didn't even get through the questions. Some students refused to participate at all. They know well, there is nothing I can do about this. Maybe a low score for the day, but no detention - their parents won't find out, and in the grand scheme of things it really makes no difference at all. I got their attention by raising my voice saying something like, "THAT'S ENOUGH". It's very possible that I was purple in the face, as well. I then began to give a speech that went something like this:

"What did I do? Did I do something for you to have no respect for me, none, not even an ounce? Do you realize that the only reason I am here, in this country, is for you? My whole life is in America - my family, my friends (at this point I was on the verge of tears), and you hurt me. Everyday that you laugh at me, disrespect me, you hurt me. So everyday that I don't show up to class, is a day that I don't want to hurt. Do you understand?"

Apparently, I got my message across this time because their homeroom teacher ( a close mentor of Siranush) came over at the end of day. She looked entertained as she said, "So you got angry today? What happened?". I explained to her what I had said. She simply listens and told me that maybe today they understood. Ironically, my counterpart has decided that it's a good idea for me to take over this class complete for the next month. She has admitted to not knowing how to teach in anyway other than reading straight out of the awful textbooks. Well, these kids are for a real surprise when they learn this news. No more bullshit, no more nonsense.

So, my act of kindness? Well, it wasn't mine, it was Siranush's. Though I haven't been confiding or talking with her nearly as much as I was before leaving, she understands that I am struggling with things here at the moment. This morning she was awake the same time as me - a rarity. I wake up about 2.5 hours before school. I enjoy taking my time getting ready and having the kitchen to myself in the morning. At the moment, the shower is out of comission. I am getting the feeling they simply don't take full showers in the winter. I don't want to go out there either- it's freezing. (Don't worry kids, I shower at friend's). I badly needed to wash my hair before school today and I guess Siranush did too. She realized what I was preparing to do, and confirmed with me, then suggested that she wash my hair for me. I have seen her do this for the girls before, so I figured what the hell.

It struck me as such an act of love. It was really touching to have her wash my hair with such care, the same as she would her girls. It's moments like these that I rejoice in, holding onto these moments in the darker ones.

The Road Taken

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Reckoning

Don’t ever forget

the true source. It's location


what it looks and feels like


how it tastes. Though beauty


and magnificence are fleeting, their


origin is constant. Don't lose

what you know


to be true, to be real. Seek love

from those with their arms already extended,

you can not force open closed fists.

You can not will a thing.


Know this. Remember

you are the rock in the rushing river.

This past week, I was at a conference with the rest of the volunteers. The group I came here with in May ( A20s) all arrived together Tuesday evening. Then on Thursday, the group that came the year before (A19s), as well as the RPCVs, rolled in. The hotel we stayed at was the nicest one yet. It meets your average expectation of a Marriot. I was excited for everyone to be together again, if only to jot down all of the very ridiculous things that come out of people's mouths. I also was looking forward to facilitating my first TEFL session with one of my site mates, Lauren, and to teaching my first ever group yoga session! I was far more excited about the latter, as you may imagine.

I want to give you some back story on my relationship with yoga. For the last three years, we have been dating seriously and had been fooling around for maybe five years before then. In the beginning, I simply wasn't ready to be committed. This had to partly do with how we'd gotten together. Things started out pretty casually, I didn't take it seriously and found it to be unimportant in my life. Later, when I decided to get my act together my senior year of college, we took it to the next level. I began realizing that yoga gave me what I had been seeking out in all the wrong places, all the wrong people. The hours I spent with yoga started to become all I really needed. When I finally let yoga become a part of my routine, making time to be together and eventually being alone with yoga, taking it back home; well, that was when I understood the true nature of our relationship. My love for yoga is not jealous, it is kind, it is all those things people like to recite at weddings. 

I am grateful for all the hours spent in the English classroom, because the jitters and stress of leading a group of people have nearly washed away completely. For my first class, I tried to be fancy and give a regimented Ashtanga Series A session. Everybody had really wonderful and encouraging responses, but I knew to some extent they were being kind. I didn't feel totally in the groove, so there's no way that they did. Later that evening, I experienced some jealousy, some anger and then later, total elation when I won. The evening came to a close with my friend David catching me repeating something I'd said earlier in the evening to my reflection in the window.  In summary, there was a lot of dancing and good times, sliced with some hurt. 

The next morning, when David came over at 7am for a private session, I explained that hopefully he wasn't seeking anything in particular, because I really needed to do my own thing and simply have him follow.  He complied and we commenced our practice. There is nothing better than an early morning yoga session. I have always loved (but not always been so committed to) rolling out of bed and onto the yoga mat. That morning, Lauren and I kicked off the day with our TEFL session. We received a lot of positive feedback from both my Director and peers. 

Somewhere in that day, lines from the above poem started coming to me. In the morning, before yoga, I felt I'd acted immature at some points in the night. That I'd digressed to a less evolved version of me, somewhere closer to my state of being during college. It's never a good feeling and it isn't the first time in-country that I've felt this way. Many of us joke about this state of affairs; that it feels like high school and we act like we're in college. The high school aspect comes with the cliques, the gossip, and other bullshit. The college part, is the sleeping around and the attitude that this isn't 'real life'. In an effort to cope, we lose ourselves completely and the aftermath (for the most part) it ain't pretty. I'm not alone in this feeling. Many of my friends are experiencing something similar. Maybe not so much with the social aspect, but for many of us - the parts of ourselves we wished to leave behind in coming here, have somehow escaped their cages. We are forced to confront them and it isn't easy. For me, it means seeking from people who simply are not capable of giving me what I need. 

So, I digested these thoughts for a day or so, had some useful conversations and the next day, spit out the above poem during a Safety and Security presentation (...oops). The poem was also partly inspired by the sunrise I'd chased that morning. At the end of the day, I had another group yoga class and felt that I would be more in-tune with the classes needs if I practiced alongside them. The conference was over with and everybody just wanted to celebrate this, via relaxation. For me, coming back to what I know makes me feel whole and complete. My yoga practice has been, hands down, the most integral component of this experience. When I am on the mat, everything retreats: my insecurities, my fears, my doubts - all of it. I am left only with a relaxed body and a clear head. I feel sexy, empowered, energetic and fearless. 

So yes, yoga is my most long term, serious relationship and I am certain we have a future together.


Album Of The Week: In Rainbows Radiohead
Quote Of The Week:  After a long pause on the phone...
                                    Soleil: "Carolyn?!"                                       Me: "Yes?"
                                    Soleil: "I ate dinner."

Regrouped, Refocused.

"There are those of us who haven't yet told our stories, or refuse to tell them, and so we become them: we hide away inside the memory until we can no longer stand the shell or the shock." Zoli Colum McCann

Zoli is a novel loosely based on the life of a Gypsy poet roaming Czechoslovakia as fascism spreads in the 1930's. I’ve shared the above quote with a lot of different folks as I travelled around the central region of Armenia last week (which you can blame my recent delinquency on). I also read it to my Daddy over the phone, encouraging him to start writing me some freaking letters! (And that there, my friends, was another plug).

Last Saturday, I caught the 9am bus to Yerevan on the side of the road all on my own- like a big girl! This was the first time my host father did not insist he drive me the 10 minute walk to the roadside. For some strange reason, I felt like a small child running away with my big backpack, increased heart rate and six-pack of Hot Cars in a plastic bag. The toy cars were for Vartincheek, the grandson of my first host mother, Silva. Just thinking back to that morning, which was about 10 days ago, feels like a month.

What’s that age old saying, “time flies”? (So much for the teacher who once told me to avoid, at all costs, using clichés in my writing). I am struggling to come up with some clever, poetic way to describe the whirlwind effect of life these days. It seems I woke up a few days ago and it was October, and in one more it will be November. I haven’t yet figured out how to straddle and ride this horse in a manageable way. It all just keeps getting away from me.

Anyway, once I got into the city I dropped my stuff off in the most American feeling apartment in Yerevan and headed out to Akunk. It was surreal driving back nearly three months later, alone and twice as independent than when I first left. The first bit of time was a little awkward, both the family and I needed some warming up. I admit, I've been slacking in keeping contact with them. I feel badly, but I don't feel close or connected to them the way that I did over the summer. It's almost like they were my starter relationship. I was naive in the ways of the nature of this relationship and while in it, felt it was the perfect fit for me. Yet now that I have found someone new, I realize that we weren't really all that close or similar. Ultimately though, I was happy to see them and we laughed at the same old jokes. They asked me about my new family, school and told me to come home soon. 

Afterwards, I met my friend in the nearby town and later we headed to Yerevan for a birthday celebration. I guess I needed to remind myself why I should steer clear of Jameson. Well, I remember now. Sunday morning, I was lucky enough to have the wonderful facilities of the Norwegian Consulate's apartment (an American who's been in Armenia for 13 years and works closely with Peace Corps). My friend Brian was kind enough to bring me back some breakfast from my favorite establishment in Yerevan, Green Bean. It feels like America in there. They serve unlimited unfiltered coffee, bagels and other gloriously American things. I got to bake in the hot sun for a good two hours on the back patio, sipping coffee and eating my bagel. In the afternoon, I headed back to the city of Talin with Brian and his sitemate (and my friend) Erica. Brian and I reminisced about high school as we watched 10 Things I Hate About You, then later made chocolate chip cookies with the girls and watched another movie.

In the morning, I left with my friend Phi's sitemate and headed to their site. I got to walk around Karakert and go to Phi's English club. I taught the kids the Barney "I Love You" song. It's ironic to be so in love with teaching this song when as a kid I thought it was really stupid. My third graders and I sing it together every class. Now that they actually know the words, it makes my heart melt. But, as I was saying, my time with Phi was short but sweet and the next morning we hopped the train with her two counterparts and headed back to Yerevan. I left her at a Peace Corps workshop and walked to the center of the city. It was really cool to explore a part of the city to which I had not yet ventured out. I parked my bum back at Green Bean. They started playing the album Rumors from start to finish and I opened my journal. For a two full hours, I was in absolute heaven. 

By the time I finally made it back to Malishka on Thursday afternoon, I was totally wiped out. I had been gone for five nights, but it felt more like ten. The next day I had the same workshop with my counterpart and peers from this area. We all got together afterwards to celebrate Halloween, as we weren't able to make it up North to meet with the rest of the volunteers. Fun was had by all; jokes were made, wine was drank, songs were rapped and tears of laughter were shed. I could not have asked for a better Halloween weekend. I didn't even have to get dressed up! 

Now, I am getting back into the groove with my counterpart at school. I swear, I left for one week and a quarter of what we had worked up to had been lost. This week my school started the winter schedule, so we do not begin until 9am. It's really nice for me because I am keeping my 6:30 alarm, but have more time to pretend like I have no responsibilities as I lay there listening to music afterwards. It's also really incredible how much that cold was sucking the life from me. I feel like a new person, both in and outside the classroom. It's so nice to be healthy again, after a full month of battling germs. 

Ok, that's enough for now. I'll share more thought provoking stories another time. 



Quote Of The Week: "I am computer." My student
Song Of The Week: "Every Single Night" - Fiona Apple

The Daily Grind

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Song Of The Week: Cat Power: Satisfaction

Sky's The Limit

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

Song Of The Week: Norah Jones - Travelin' On