Border2Border Part II: Becoming A 'Family', The Decision To Stay

Part 2: Kapan to Sisian

On the 6th morning of our adventure, we set out for an expected hike approximately 30 kilometers out of Kapan. Due to some delays, it wasn't until noon time that we walked out of Kapan. As we were making our way out of the city I got an unexpected phone call from my father. It's unusual for him to call me at that time of day, so I became a little worried. My fear was soon met with expected sorrow, as I learned of a yet another family member's death. Since my arrival in Armenia last May a total of 5 people, with varying degrees of separation and blood connection, have gone from this world. While I was not close with the young woman who passed away, my father and her father are first cousins with a close relationship. Uncle Richie, as I know him - played a small role in offering help to get me through the medical portion of the application process. It's never easy to learn of someone else's sorrow and that day I spent a good portion of the trek alone, contemplating the oddities and non-coincidences in life.

This was one of our hottest walks, and I was seriously grateful that my pseudo-grandmother, Marisa,  had made sure to fill my belly before I set out that morning. As a group we decided to take a long break on the side of the road in the only shade we could find. Everyone was profusely sweating, hot, tired and exhausted within our first break. We continued on, taking another long lunch break down by a river. At some point along the way, it became obvious that we had taken the wrong road. In Armenia, this is no small defeat. Our only choice was to continue walking to insure finding water as we were running dangerously low. Around 5pm, we convened outside of a small store in an even smaller village. Everyone was done for the day, and as a group we decided our only choice to get back on track was to take taxi cabs to the place we were supposed to be at the end of the walk that day.

We found a place that looked quasi-suitable and continued to walk another mile or two until finding our camp site for the evening. After setting up the tents, the boys promptly got to making a fire over which to grill our remaining vegetables. Soon after, thanks to Uncle Tender Breath (Kevin), the fire was burning strong. We had a lot of good laughs around the fire, while being eaten alive by the bugs. With not much sleep under our belts, we set out an hour later than expected at about 8 or 8:30pm for Tatev. This was by far my favorite walk throughout the whole trip. We had tree cover and soft dirt roads for the majority of the walk. Once out of this seeming forest, we came to a small town where our most valuable team member that day- Jesse found some children to figure which road we needed to be taking. A little ways outside of this village, we made the group decision to take naps during the heat of the day.

   Afterwards, we continued the journey and soon began to see what we could only assume was Tatev off in the distance. With our destination in site, our bodies and minds began to prepare for rest. This can be a dangerous thing when you find that you don't actually know which road to take when it forks. People get cranky after walking all day, to feel that while the end is in site... there's no end in site. It was at this moment that I called my friend Brian Bokhart for some confirmation about where we were and where we were headed. He walked last year and alleviated our frustration and near hopelessness by assuring us that we were where we needed to be and would eventually reach our destination (though how much longer until than was unclear). Jesse again, sought out an Armenian to confirm the right way. It was here that we did some off-roading and took the path less beaten. All I will say is that basically no one was smiling as they entered Tatev.

Yet, once we had cold beers and fresh food in our bellies - we were all smiles and laughter. It was at this restaurant that a wide assortment of inside jokes were born. We became our little family; with Uncles Cool Jesse and Tender Breath, the Irish Twins, the Middle Sister, and the Big/Little Sister. Apparently, we don't have parents. We were even more elated to be informed that it was no problem that we sleep on the grounds of the Tatev Monastery, one of the most important monument/tourist attractions in the country. That night, I fell asleep under a star saturated sky. In the morning we taught at the local school. Afterwards we bought some goods from the vendors and loaded the longest cable car in the world. The trip itself lasts around 12 minutes. We got to see the road we were avoiding walking, and an abandoned monastery that had been totally taken over by various greens. The walk to our next generation was very short and along the way, the group was met by some very enthusiastic Armenians that wanted a picture with us. (Because of a perhaps somber mood, I was not with everyone when this occurred but watched with entertainment at the event from down the road). We arrived in our teammate Branwen's village of Shinohayer sometime in the afternoon. The group promptly split up to pick up goods for dinner.

That evening our final team member, Meewa, joined us at Branwen's apartment. She was meant to be my replacement, as I had intended to finish my stint with the group at the next location, in Goris. It was in Shinohayer that I began to seriously consider staying. The team was so bonded and I had nothing except free time waiting for me back in Malishka. I knew that our most strenuous walk was coming up right after Goris. Also, the fact that I could lay low during teaching days now that Meewa had replaced me was also pretty appealing. With this in mind, we went over to Branwen's school in the late morning to teach the kids. Afterwards, we went back to her place for more time. That night I spoke to my family for the first time since being on the trip. It was then that I realized I wanted to stay on with the team. I was really enjoying my time with everyone and felt like I was quitting before the big game. I am a team player until the end.

The next morning we set out early for Goris, expecting a much longer walk than the one that was had. I checked in with our team captain and my sitemate, Lauren, about staying on with the group. I  consulted everyone else on the team, making sure that I was still welcome. Knowing me and my big personality - I wanted to make sure that no one was sick of me yet, before inviting myself to continue on.  Luckily, they claimed not to be and so it was settled - I was going to stay on for three extra days. This way, I have four days to prepare for the teams arrival in Malishka.

That afternoon we arrived in Goris. It was decided that the schedule would be changed and we would only be in town for one night, not two. We taught that same afternoon, and slept in the teacher's lounge that evening. Everyone was mentally preparing for the 27 kilometer walk that we had ahead of us. Unfortunately that night I didn't sleep very well - which I suppose is true for the majority of the trip. In particular though, I remember this night. It was rather inconvenient. At 6am, the taxis which would take all but two packs arrived at the school. By 6:45am we were out the door, hoping to hack off a good chunk of the walk before the heat of the day.

That day we walked ten hours in the blistering sun. I got a sun rash on my arms and legs, that faded over night but was uncomfortable. During the walk, we ran into a small grandmother who offered us cold water and coffee. It turned out that she was one of Lauren's University student's grandmother. At this point, we were a solid 3 hour ride from the University where Lauren works. It was a nice coincidence, a moment along the road that breaks things up and helps you keep going. Another nice breaking up of the walk occurred when we ran into a large cattle of sheep, their herders, horses and large cattle dogs.  We walked with them for some time and then eventually sat down for a lunch break. A little while later, that herd and ran into one another around us. One herd on the the road, the other to our backs in the field. The dogs were going absolutely nuts, the sheep where bah-ing their damn heads off and as if on cue an convoy of army trucks filled with soldiers drove past, blaring their horns at the herd. Once this scene out of a bad movie passed, we all promptly fell asleep on the side of road, under the hot sun.

By the time we made it outside of Sisian, I was lasting on pure will power alone. I was in some sort of yogic trance for the last hour as I focused on lengthening my spine and rolling back my shoulders. I was concentrating on my gait as if my life depended upon, because if I thought about how hot, thirsty and achey I was, I knew I was done for the day. Finally, the team made it to the Basen Hotel in Sisian. There we took pictures of our disgusting feet, had the best tasting meal in days and went to sleep shortly thereafter. For the first time since Kapan, I was able to lounge both during and after my shower in a state of utter exhaustion.

The next day we had our very first rest day with no walking or teaching on the agenda. We took advantage of this state of affairs and headed to a nearby lake with our favorite game, Bananagrams, some cold beverages and good humor. We hung out for the afternoon, swimming, trying to fix our horrid tan lines and playing the game. That evening everyone did their own thing, with Meg and Lauren back at Lauren's place and Kevin and I grabbing a hot dinner at a nearby restaurant. The next morning we taught at School No. 3 in Sisian, with a relatively good turnout thanks to Lauren, Meg and Meg's friend Hasmik. That evening I made dinner for the gang at Meg's and we headed back to the hotel. In the morning, I didn't have a chance to say goodbye to everyone as the taxi came even earlier than the planned 8am arrival. With an empty stomach and a craving for coffee, I left the team behind to carry on their merry way.

I admit, the silence and sudden lack of movement in the day was not an easy adjustment. I slept for most of the afternoon, checked some emails and sent a text or two to the team to see how they were doing. I missed them and almost wished I was still with them, except for the great calm that had come over me since returning back into my little oasis. Little did I know that our eventual reunion was short coming...

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/

Mama, Mama I'm Coming Homeeee

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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."

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

Yoga and Cartwheels Over a Sunset

Well hello, my darlings! I have missed you like the desert misses the rain! (Remember that tune from the mid to late 90’s? “Annnnndd I misss youuu yeaaahh”).

I had the great intention of writing a new post directly after the weekend, but it just so happens that frolicking in the grass barefoot until the sun goes down when you are on the back end of a cold is a terrible, terrible idea.  I am not one for sickness, I can often be found boasting an immune system of equal strength as my astrological sign during cold season. So, knowing this, you might guess I am appalled at my body’s recent inability to kick a simple cold. Maybe it is the lack of understanding about how colds are passed here in Armenia, maybe it was all the cigarettes Friday night, maybe it is the frolicking barefootness – one will never be able to say. All I know is, I don’t have a bathtub to cry in over the ordeal while in the fetal position so as to cope, and it’s really beginning to wear on me.

I digress.

This past Friday was Teacher’s Day at school. Classes were cut short and school let out around 12:30 so that the teachers could all go home and get ready for the party. I have had my fair share of experiences with Armenian parties, so to an extent I knew what would transpire; I would be asked to toast, to dance, to eat a lot, and encouraged to drink amounts of alcohol that no other female Armenian would consider appropriate with my Director.  In the meantime, I would be on call to give directions to any volunteer leaving the capital trying to find their way down to Vayots Dzor for the Wine Fesitval.

I was genuinely looking forward to seeing both familiar and unfamiliar faces over the weekend. I also had plans (for the first time) to cook a big brunch Sunday morning for both my friends and host family.  I left the teacher party earlier to go get sassed-up and head to the nearby town where my fellow Club Yeg members and their guests would be awaiting my arrival. (Well, this isn’t exactly true. I may or may not have harassed my friend Chris with an overuse of vulgar language on the drive over with my host dad. Some might say the recent increase in my affinity for speaking vulgarly, because those around me do not understand a word of it, is becoming a slight problem). I had spontaneously cut bangs into my hair the night before and was anxious for positive attention.  Mommy got what she wanted!

When we got home my family had the honor and privilege of experiencing my friend Phi. That’s right, you don’t meet Phi, so much as you experience her. They were delighted with her goofiness and fun loving nature – the same reasons we are such good friends. Where I am rough around the edges, Phi is soft, and we balance one another out well.  We had a lazy morning and headed for the festival around one.

At the festival, I quickly ditched my host family so that I may be uninhibited. Also, my host father was getting a little irritated with Phi and I for not speaking in Armenian, so it was time to part ways. We soon found another volunteer and he acted as our tour guide for a short time. Afterwards we walked around, taking in all of the sights: impromptu Hikakhan dancing (Armenian style), the President’s body guards and car but not the man himself, and all the free wine a wino like myself could dream of. There were cheeses to taste as well, but something about the hot sun and warm white wine made the cheese extremely unappealing.

Later on, Phi and I eventually made it out to the field where the rest of the volunteers had gathered. I really have no idea who originally found this place, but it is was key. We had all the freedom to be our most ridiculous selves, and ya’ll know I took full advantage of this.  The last couple of times I have spoken with friends or family back home, I’ve tried to explain the nature of these get-togethers. I know for me, one of my most regular and needed releases is unavailable to me in my daily life. What is this, you ask? Busting chops. Good lord. I don’t think I really understood how much this was a part of my personality. Even if I knew how to bust chops in Armenian, it wouldn’t exactly be appropriate. Essentially, all of this pent up sarcasm is near boiling over by the time I am with other Americans. And man, do I let loose. As someone whose life has been characterized by being, how shall I say this, a little odd – being ‘proper’ and ‘appropriate’ is seriously exhausting for me.  I can only speak for myself, but I think this is true for everyone to varying degrees. Alas, the get-togethers.

Over the weekend I took a lot of pictures, did cartwheels and yoga as the sun set over the mountains, conversed with a good amount of people and in general had a really good time. In the past, my summers have had at least a few occasions similar to the wine festival, so being able to get one last lick in before the cold weather comes was absolutely worth the bad cold.

Holistic Doctors in Malishka! Say WHAA?!?

Sorry for the delay between postings, folks. I know you have all been anxiously awaiting some new tale from the world of yours truly. I imagine when you see this posted into the FB feed that you will feel your heart rate quicken and a stirring in your belly similar to that of when you were on the precipice of your first kiss.

Last week there were two Armenian holidays, so including my off-day on Thursday, I only had two days of school. One of those days, my program manager came to visit. She met with my Principal (or Director), myself and my counterpart. Interestingly, as I met her at the school's front steps and we entered the school, she informed me that it is a direct insult to the Principal if upon her immediate arrival she did not go see him first. He had only wonderful things to say about me, that I show up for meetings I don't understand, that I understand more Armenian than the volunteer before me and that I am 'cheerful'. It's uncommon here in Armenia to smile at others for something unwarranted. Most people are typically frowning or neutral when greeting one another. This is because they regard smiling as foolish or childish, and they want to be taken seriously. This is also the thinking behind their mean mugs in photographs, no matter how exciting an occasion.

I am not sure what the exact details are behind the holiday on Monday, but I tagged along with my family to the village church. There we each lit three candles, admired the grounds which over look the ruins of the original Malishka. Afterwards, we headed to the first graveyard where Siranush's father is buried. I hadn't realized that he only passed away two years ago, which is really no time at all when you are close to a person. As she approached the tombstone she greeted him, "Barev, Pop" (Hi, Dad). Her husband Samvell prepared a small little fire in the appropriated silver bowl behind the gravestone as Siranush and the twins cleaned the tombstone and surrounding area. They wiped the stone down, pulled out weeds and burned incense in the fire when the area was ready. They didn't say much throughout the process, but it was certainly emotionally intense. There were many other families in the graveyard doing the same thing.  We went to a second graveyard for another family member but it wasn't quite as emotional.

Afterwards, we went to the home of the two residing holistic doctors here in Malishka. They live on the side of the mountain overlooking the rest of the village. They have an amazing view and home. The wife is Russian and the husband looks like Santa Claus. They were very cool people. I even got an energy balancing treatment while I was there! It was so awesome to know that I have access to holistic treatments while I am here. The Russian wife is trained in Tibetan understands of health and medicine, and I am not too sure about the husband. They are the godparents of Siranush, and I am welcome there for free treatments at any time.

Last Friday was the 21st Anniversary of Armenia's Independence Day. Oddly, no one did much of anything at all. We went to go see Samvell's parents who reside in this tiny little shack in the mountains during the summer months. It's a place that looks like somewhere I THOUGHT I would end up before I actually got here.

The next day I went to Yerevan to meet with the co-organizer of the National Poetry Contest that I am helping put together. After our meeting I went shopping with my friend Joy for some new shoes, but couldn't find anything that I liked and or fit me AGAIN. That night a big group of us went out to experience the nightlife of the capital. Things were... interesting. The entire night I kept thinking,"This is Peace Corps?" It's definitely weird to have vices available to me that I was hoping to not have the temptation of for two years. Oh, the irony!

I will post again over the weekend hopefully to fill in little awesome tidbits, but for now I am sick in bed with a bad a cold and want to close my eyes. I wrote only because I know how you've longed for a slice of my life!

"Sometimes, when I'm at home alone... I blow my nose." Joy Roberson

Song of the Week: Afro Celt Sound System: Listen to Me

Settling In

Hey Babies

I miss you, I love you!

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hope ya’ll are doing well!

Things We're Not Taught

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