It's Official, I'm a PCV

75 days later and I am still here.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chicken Testes

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Raspberries and other stuff

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kisses! I ruv youse!

A Weekend in Malishka

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Enter

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

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

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

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

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

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

One month down, 26 to go!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

One Day In Akunk

This has been a super crazy week already and today was a really, really wonderful day. I awoke early and decided not to go running with Jesse, mainly because I wanted to do laundry and write before school. Also, I have been meaning to wake up early and spend the first hour of my day writing out in the garden with complete stillness. I finally honored this desire! It was such an awesome way to start my day.

I got up around 6:30 and rolled out of bed straight to the outhouse. I put the water on for the coffee and started doing the dishes from the night before. I can not, guiltlessly, use the kitchen without cleaning up. It’s so curious how when living at home the sentiment is not the same (sorry Mom). I clean up after myself, but am begrudging about doing it for others. In Armenia though, I would feel like a total shit head if I did not do everyone’s dishes in the am before they all wake. Also, there is typically around 25 flies floating around the kitchen area and I feel better about the flies if they have nothing to shit on.

After the dishes were done, the water was starting to boil so I added the finely ground coffee, turned the burner off and stirred. The sink and washer machine are streamlined from the same piping system (I’m probably using awful lingo here), so they cannot be used simultaneously. As my coffee cooled, I put my laundry in and turned the washer machine on. Afterwards, I grabbed my coffee, flannel, gurnal, and headed out to the garden. It was chilly this morning, but I was still able to get away with bare feet, yoga pants and said flannel.

The sun climbed over the mountain peaks as I mulled over the last two days. Writing about my eventful Sunday in Masis, where I drank 15 year old brandy with my host uncle and mother. I was examining how we view one another and the bonds I have began to form since being here. It’s almost been one month. So wild.  About an hour later, my h.mother came out and sat with me for a bit. Before breakfast, I hung my clothes out on the line to dry while my youngest host sister stood close by silently watching me.

After school, I walked over to my friend Phi’s house on the other side of town to deliver her packages (that lucky B!). She was not feeling so good today and skipped our afternoon TEFL session. I brought her her package because I knew there would be goodies in there, and I wanted some danggit! A couple of hours later I walked home and stopped to chat with the boy gang because Hasmik, a little girl whom speaks English pretty well, was with them and spoke out to me. I got all of their names, those little rats! Hopefully they will treat me less like a sideshow freak and more like a neighbor in the weeks to come. 

After dinner, I went out to the garden and plucked some fresh mint stalks for my nightly tea. My h.mother had started cooking something interesting and I told her I wanted to help. She let me, but not without much reprimanding at first. We were preparing food for the morning. It was basically mashed potatoes with different fresh herbs from her garden, with salt wrapped in dough. Grigor, my host father, must have smelled them from wherever the hell he was because he showed up out of nowhere and ate about 8 of them. 

And that, my friends, is one day in Akunk.

p.s. Send me a package full of unexpected extravagant treats and I will be indebted to you for years to come.