Two things.

I made a calzone. Two, actually. With help from a second volunteer.

Braids were a little off, but it still tasted fine.

And also, another volunteer somehow had some coffee, from Giant Eagle, Market District no less.

I have bad internet at the moment, don't know how to modify the picture and don't want to reload it. So it's sideways. Deal with it. Maybe I'll change it in the future.

Giant Eagle is a grocery store in Western PA and other states bordering there, which is located in Pittsburgh where I went to university. The flagship store in Pittsburgh is branded as the 'Market District' a sortof upscale brand (it's in the yuppiest area of Pittsburgh) to compete with the nearby Trader Joe's and Whole Foods. I lived about 10 minutes away from it, and it was on the bus route on the way to Pitt so I went there often for my groceries. I wouldn't expect anyone to have this outside of Western PA, let alone in Armenia.

To be honest, I’ve been planning to “be an author” since at least third grade, when Mrs. Ramos held a year-long contest to see how many Pages we could read. After reading a book, we would record the title, author, … Continue reading →

Well, it’s that time of year again. The birds singing, flowers blooming, snow melting. Actually, wait. I think I’m getting ahead of myself. All around me, I hear from other volunteers about “freezing pipes,” and “snow so deep,” and “my hot water tank froze!” It’s all lies I say! Blasphemy and lies! As I sit back in my easy chair and stare out frosted windows, it’s nothing but dead trees and dried grass! This mysterious white wonder I hear is all the rage, is nowhere to be found. My site has 3 occurrences of snow since “winter” began. It’s only this last time, that it stuck around for longer than 24 hours.  I’m apparently stuck in this pocket of magic and rainbows, where the sun always shines and gophers fart glitter. A place where, during the summer, trees sweat and concrete softens to near quicksand. I’ve always lived in places where snow comes early and sticks around until mid-June! I want to be able to frolic and build snowmen. I could gather enough snow from my entire village and build a midget sized snow elf! However, I recently recovered from a terrible sinus infection that had me unable to function for the better part of January. Even simple things like oatmeal, yogurt, and tea were challenges to swallow, due to the massive swelling of my lymph nodes. But, I’m finally recovering and able to walk around again.  February holds several holidays both American and Armenian. Today, is St. Sargis day, whereby, young men and women are supposed to eat salty bread before going to bed. They cannot drink water beforehand. During the night, in their dreams, whoever gives them a glass of water, is the person of whom they are to wed. Needless to say, I’ll probably be asked to partake from my host family. Which, I’ll oblige, if only to see whether the legend holds any truth. I’ll keep my trusty sidekick, a bottle of Noy (brand of water), by my bedside. So that come morning, I can wash down my sorrow of having not slept, due to dehydration! That’s all the happenings I have for now. Please feel free to email me with any questions, comments, etc.  

So after waiting for packages to arrive, I figured I would ask a friend to check at his post office as I had in the past had some packages sent to his address because I was worried about my new one.

So my friend checks, as it turns out I have two packages, one has been there a month. Now a lot of volunteers will talk about the fish bowl we live in as volunteers, where everyone knows our business, sometimes even before we know it. While I do experience this a fair amount it's not much of a problem for me in Vanadzor and I do have some fair amount of anonymity, a whole lot compared to someone living in a village. For example, my package is here for a month and neither me nor any of the other American's have been told.

While I would have loved to have gotten my packages sooner, this does demonstrate that I do have some anonymity here, at least when it comes to the post office across town.

Now that can also make it harder to integrate, feel welcome in a city where people tend to go about their business. There's a shop down below my building that opened up a few months ago that I'll often buy eggs and bread from. Going down there a few weeks ago I went in and I heard the shopkeepers (I think it's a family) told another Armenian their that I was their American, in describing who this strange foreigner was.

It was a great feeling, not one I experience often living in a city.

Saturday Jan. 28 was cold and foggy and ice crystallized from the fog onto bushes and trees.

January was an interesting month and I'll remember it (and probably February as well) for a while. It hasn't been a very cold month, though we haven't seen much of the sun and have had several snowfalls. The village authorities were working on the water supply for several days in mid-January and although the pressure was reduced, we still had sufficient water, most of the time, to trigger the instantaneous gas water heater. These are ubiquitous in Armenia and only large hotels have hot water tanks. However, one neighbor fed up with the reductions took things into his own hands and smashed the lock on the diversion setup near our house, sending more water to his house and cutting off our water supply completely. That was a very cold night and our pipes froze. In his defense, I think he didn't realize he was cutting off our water completely. Anyway, the next morning Zarik humiliated the poor man with a very public and very angry tongue-lashing; in Armenian parlance he was amot-ed (shamed). Since then, we've been able to restore water to the tap downstairs but the pipes inside the walls going upstairs are frozen and we'll have to wait until things thaw. So for the last two weeks we've been hauling water in buckets up the stairs, heating it on the wood stove, and washing dishes once a day in large bowls. We have been flushing the zugaran (toilet) with buckets and adding small amounts of rock salt to the water in the toilet to keep it from freezing. However, the last 20-30 feet of our house drain is elevated above ground and, predictably, without a steady flow of water trickling through it has frozen. So our toilet is now a bucket which we empty onto the garden. Most houses in Verishen have drains which empty directly into the river. I was appalled in 2010 when I realized what was happening with the household waste, and now I, an environmental education volunteer, am part of an even worse, if temporary, approach to waste disposal. I have been impressed with how Zarik and Hrantic are dealing with these setbacks. Their approach has been one of stoic acceptance; this is what we need to do until it warms up – and we will do it. I have not heard one word of complaint or misery; instead over lunch we guessed when things would thaw enough for us to use the toilet again. (The estimates ranged from 4 to 6 weeks.) The next several weeks won't be completely convenient but it's been an interesting lesson for me; it's a lot easier to put up with minor inconveniences when everyone accepts the situation. And it's not without humor; Zarik and I spar good-naturedly over who washes the dishes, and I was washing dishes this afternoon in bowls with hot water from the wood stove and Zarik rushed in to remind me not to pour the water down the drain; she found my response (gittem, apoosh chem – I know, I'm not an idiot) amusing. The three rooms we live in are warm most of the time and we have plenty to eat. Khndir chka (no problems).

My English classes are evolving into multiple tutorials. There are more contact hours but as my students are at different levels it's a lot easier to customize the lessons. One student is relatively advanced and I'm having her read National Geographic articles (in small sections) and I'm composing word lists for her with words like cajole, harass, disaster, serendipity, guess, and indolent. I throw in synonyms, definitions, and an Armenian equivalent or two. The Internet helps greatly here as well as I have a Web site with recordings of different people speaking in English. A volunteer in Goris who teaches English and is leaving in two weeks looked around for someone to assume some of his classes. I agreed to take on one class as, with good students, teaching English can be quite enjoyable and it helps my Armenian a little.

We have received the funds to renovate the math classroom but the contractor has said he doesn't want to start the renovation until late February. I was initially disappointed with that, but seeing how January has been and remembering that we had most of our snow last year in February, that is a wise decision. With better weather, they'll be able to work more efficiently and I think we will still have the renovation completed by May. In the meantime, fundraising for the furniture for the math classroom did well for a while with some very generous donations but it has slowed lately and we've been at the point for the last week or so where we still need $750 (23%). I'm not very good at soliciting donations but I urge you to help if you haven't already donated. All the money donated will be used to furnish the room, it's a pretty good deal (4 large cupboards, 11 tables, 24 chairs, 3 blackboards, a large whiteboard, and curtains – for $3327) and I think this project will be a big contribution to education in Verishen. You can donate by going here . I'm impressed with both math teachers at the school and I am looking forward to talking with them soon, in my limited Armenian, about different ways to utilize this new resource.

Our cow is pregant again and the calf is expected in early to mid-March. Consequently, her milk yield is minmal, barely enough for last year's calf. To make matzoon (yogurt) we have resorted to buying milk from a neighbor with several cows; it's almost impossible to buy milk at the stores in a rich dairy area like Verishen. I have been using some of it with instant coffee in the morning (katof sourch – coffee with milk) and they asked me what I thought of the milk. It had struck me as being more like 2% milk than the milk we usually have. Apparently the butter-fat content of the milk from our cow is 3.6% - not particularly high by U.S. standards but higher than for most cows around here (and higher than most Holsteins). A higher fat content means more mik and cheese can be made from the milk. I occasionally forget that Zarik and Harantic are somewhat exceptional in their practices; the new calf was conceived with artificial insemination via semen from Yerevan, Hrantic accepted the need to prune the fruit trees, he is meticulous with his records and procedures for making wine, vodka, and cognac, and they are observant and curious about pests in the garden. Hrantic was trained as a reproductive biologist before joining the army, Zarik has science training, and Meuzhan, their son, is a veterinarian so their background is unusual – and they are well aware of the advantages of different agricultural services that are available in Armenia.

I have been working with the Goris kindergarten for the last couple of weeks. We are trying to find money to replace the bedding there, that has been in use for 30 years, and to add decent children's furniture to some of the rooms. At the last meeting, Jasmena, the kindergaretn director, asked me to add a cheap point-and-shoot digital camera for the children to use to the proposal. I think that with proper instructions nd supervision that could be a great thing for the children to use, - stimulating creativity, learning from trial and error, etc. I decided against adding it to the proposal as I don't want to overload it with a lot of miscellaneous and unrelated items. Instead, it has occurred to me (and other volunteers) that there is probably an appreciable number of digital cameras that are still serviceable but have been replaced by a newer model. If you have such a camera and are willing to donate it to the Goris kindergarten where it will be appreciated and see a lot of use, or know of someone in that position, could you please let me know (hedleywbond@gmail.com) and I will arrange to have them brought here. One volunteer is visting Tucson in March and another will be in Portland, Oregon, that month and both have offered to bring cameras back with them.

One of the best features of the Goris kindergarten are the bright and colorful scenes throughout the building. This aquatic scene is in a stairwell.

Some of the rooms at the kindergarten are furnished with sturdy and sensible tables, chairs, and bookshelves. We're seeking funding to similarly furnish the remaining rooms.

Most of the bedding in the kindergarten is old and worn and we're trying to get funding to replace it all.

I have given given up trying to blend in here. I am slightly taller than average, bearded (which is unusual) and lack dark hair and dark eyes. However, there are also numerous subtle clues as well. I wear a fawn fleece jacket in winter, different from the black shiny jackets most men wear; and when there is snow and ice, I wear boots. Also, as a rule, most volunteers walk more quickly than most Armenians. And in Verishen, most people and all the school children know who I am and there is nothing approaching anonymity here. Some volunteers have been surprised at how little anonymity they have even in large towns and cities, and some, particularly those from large cities in the U.S., are uncomfortable with this familiarity. We were warned about this during pre-service training and most of the time, I like the familiarity. There are times, however, when it is nice to walk through areas where I'm not well known.

Wednesday Feb. 1 started out clear with a beautiful view of the mountains.Before long though, the clouds returned and it snowed later that day.

This piece was written by Afghan-American writer Tamim Ansari. I'm reading his book "Destiny Disrupted," right now. It's a history of the Middle East (or, as he calls it, the "Middle World,") written from an insiders perspective, but for Westerners. The writing is simultaneously accessible and thoughtful. I highly recommend you all read it. His website is http://www.mirtamimansary.com/

Does America have a culture? I don’t mean “Kulcha,” as in high-flown symphonies and ballet, but culture, small c, a distinctive flavor, that je ne sais quoi that a group of people emanates by virtue of all its shared attitudes and styles.Some say no. America, they say, is a patchwork of immigrant flavors from other places with nothing of its own. Or they allow that America has distinctive indigenous cultures but say they differ from region to region: there is Cajun culture, Yankee culture, California culture, but no such thing as American culture.To which Mark Rosenfelder, linguist and master of the Metaverse website, retorts:“Fish have also been known to doubt the existence of water.”He’s right: the distinctive flavor of any culture is hard for its own members to perceive, because culture is more than a national costume and official celebrations. It’s a subtle web of understandings and assumptions that people may not know they share because, from the inside, most of it seems trivial and obvious. For example, if you’re American, you probably hold these truths to be self-evident:Thin is more attractive than fat. (Many cultures would disagree.) Nodding means yes. (In Turkey, I learned to my chagrin, nodding means no.) Upon reaching adulthood, people move out of their parents’ house. (Not in Korea.) And the list goes on. If you’re American, there are certain things you just know—or assume—or expect…that at least one other world culture finds less than obvious. Or untrue. Or incomprehensible. For example:If you’re American, you know that…In general, everybody goes to school till they’re about eighteen. Past that age, it’s a choice. Before that age, a kid who isn’t in school is a “dropout.” A man who is still living with his parents at thirty is probably failing at life. Adults work, because everybody must earn their keep. It’s normal to die of old age. But to die of an illness is a tragedy, because illness can be cured. If doctors fail to cure an illness, they have done something wrong, and there’s probably a lawsuit in there somewhere. The HolidaysYou can’t expect to get much done between late November and early January because that’s “the Holiday Season.” (In western Europe, a similar expectation holds for August.) In America’s Hoiday Season—whether or not you’re a Christian—you give and get gifts, go to more parties than usual, take time off from work, travel, and connect with family. Or feel bereft because you don’t. In other holiday news, you are aware of Superbowl Sunday, even if you don’t care about football. It’s the economy, stupid.You assume that any product is available: it’s just a question of money. Shortages mean higher prices, not empty shelves. You never expect to go to a shoe store and find no shoes. Haggling is not a part of shopping, unless you’re at a flea market or buying a big-ticket item. Instead, shopping involves studying the posted prices and making decisions. You can choose among many brands for any given product. None will be the government brand. The government doesn’t make stuff. You can recite any number of advertising slogans, though you’re not proud of it. You can recount the plots of several television commercials too. You believe that advertising influences a lot of people, but it doesn’t have much effect on you. Nonetheless, there are ads you like and ads you don’t. In that way, ads are like pop songs. The job title “teacher” sounds low-status to you. (In many cultures, it is a term of highest respect.) “Lawyer” sounds powerful but possibly unethical. (In Muslim cultures it sounds just a bit more prestigious than “clerk.”) “Politician” sounds tricky. “Poet” provokes the follow-up question, “But what do you do for a living? (In Russia some poets are like rock stars.) You don’t know how much money any of your personal friends make. It would be impertinent to ask. But you do know how much some celebrities make—especially athletes. If you are given five seconds to name ten famous people, at least half of them will be athletes or entertainers. Paying a little bit extra for better service in the private sector seems reasonable: you call it a tip. Paying a little bit extra for better service in dealings with a government agency seems unreasonable: you call this a bribe. You are what you eatBreakfast refers to a particular set of foods. These include eggs, toast, bacon, cereal, and citric juices—but not soup, pasta, or fried fish. Lunch, by contrast, is anything you eat around noon. A restaurant may advertise “breakfast any time!” but never “lunch any time!” Dinner is the big meal of the day, and you eat it in the early evening. It would be strange to serve dinner after 11 pm. (In Pakistan, I found, it’s common.) If a meal includes meat, that’s the main dish. (In many Asian cultures, a rice dish will be the centerpiece, meat a side dish.) You expect to eat something different for dinner every night. A perfectly valid reason not to choose spaghetti, steak, or tacos would be, “I had that last night.” Dogs and insects are not food. On a road trip, you’re attracted to places that advertise “homemade food,” even though you know it will never actually be home-made. You think pie is better in small town diners, even though this is rarely true. You know what a diner is. When you stop at a diner or any other ordinary restaurant, you expect to see sugar, salt, black pepper, ketchup, and mustard at your table, but not chili powder, malt vinegar, or chutney. You never wonder if the water served at a restaurant is safe to drink. What manners to mindCertain rules of etiquette are so basic, they don’t seem like choices, and you don’t remember learning them. For example:If there is only one other person on a bus, you don’t sit next to that person. (In an Arab country, you very well might.) In conversation with an acquaintance, you don’t stand closer than about two feet. You don’t touch the other person. (In Italy, you might.) If someone compliments a garment you’re wearing, you don’t feel you have to give it to them. (In Morocco, you might feel you ought to.) Of course you can walk side by side with a man. So what if you’re a woman? What kind of question is that?!! If you go on a date, your mother won’t come along. If you’re invited to someone’s house for dinner, you don’t expect to spend the night. You would feel weird if the host suggested it. (In Afghanistan, it’s almost inevitable.) Speaking of entertainmentAs an American, you have, at some point, complained about TV. You’ve expressed disgust at what junk they produce nowadays. Yet you can name and describe at least ten shows and rate them from best to worst. You cannot name ten operas. You have probably never complained that they don’t make good operas anymore. You think of football, baseball, and basketball as major sports. Even if you know nothing about baseball, you know that “three strikes” means “you’re out.” Even if you know nothing about football, you’ll probably never ask, “How come they call it football? They don’t really use their feet.” (If you’re European, you might.) In England this summer, I saw the following lead paragraph from the day’s leading sports story. If you understand it, you’re probably not an American:Resuming 180 runs adrift on 264 for seven after only 14 overs were possible on Saturday, Australia had hoped to frustrate England for as long as possible with Shane Warne setting his sights on a maiden Test century. But Warne and Australia’s resistance were blown away by a stunning burst of three for six in 29 balls by seamer Simon Jones, who claimed Test best figures of six for 53. But is it art?You expect that a story will have good guys and bad guys. (For counter-examples, look at recent animated movies from Japan.) It will probably have a happy ending. If it has a sad ending, it’s a literary story. Or pretentious. Or European. You recognize Charley Brown but not Mafalda. (She’s the most popular cartoon character in Latin America over the past thirty years.) You know about superheroes: they’re normal-looking characters with unusual powers who fight crime and injustice wearing masks and tight-fitting costumes, all the while maintaining secret second identities as normal, everyday human beings. There are so many versions of this story it’s fair to call this an American myth. Another fictional character familiar to you is the loner with his own code of justice. In the Old West, he appeared in small towns wracked by lawless violence, cleaned them up, and rode away before anyone could find out who he really was. In big, grimy twentieth-century cities, he was a private detective in a cheap suit who got beat up a lot and earned little reward for his work but kept at it anyway, adhering to his private code in a corrupt world. You understand why such a character is a hero. Deep thoughts“Moving on” is the healthy response to unpleasant incidents. (American reverence for “moving on” is brilliantly dramatized in the great American novel, Huckleberry Finn.) “Living in the past” is bad. The proper thing to do with the past is to “let it go.” “Living for the future” is good. Living in the present is okay in moderation. (Buddhist cultures, by contrast, consider it noble though difficult.) Of course, American culture, like every other, is made of big stuff too. The Bill of Rights. The Broadway musical. The blues…but this bottomless loam of petty self-evident truths is an indispensable part of who we are. It adds up to what others see as American about us when we travel. And it is also, I submit, an invisible web that binds us as a people. It doesn’t make us agree, but it lets us understand what we’re disagreeing about, and that is what makes conversation possible—a capacity we must never relinquish.

It needs a lot of work, but I should be able to move in on March 1st. It has 3 bedrooms, a kitchen area, a porch and a garden in the back. I will have no running water, no warm place to take bucket baths and of course I will have an outhouse. I shouldn't complain because I expected to face all of these hardships going into Peace Corps. What makes Armenia so difficult is that the living situation for every volunteer is different. Most volunteers have running water for at least part of the day and an indoor toilet that they can flush with a bucket. It sucks knowing that if I would have been placed in a different region then I could have moved into a furnished apartment. Instead I’m moving into a house with a bed frame, table, chairs and dresser. That’s all, unless you count the dog who has made his home on my porch for the winter. My new neighbors and people from the art school have said that they will help me move and find everything I need to buy: Wood stove, wood, refrigerator, oven, mattress, etc. It will be a very interesting March!

i havent made the Facebook page yet for K1, but here's some more from our health lessons until then! (PS the music teacher was my host mom!)

They are singing: (Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star tune)

Lavanank mer zerkera (We wash our hands)

Lavanank menk amen or (We wash everyday)

Josheluts aroj (Before eating)

Hahahuts hato (After playing)

Lavanank menk amen or (We wash everyday)

Amen or, amen or (Everyday, everyday)

Lavanank menk amen or

Amen or, amen or

We made it to February! What can we look forward to this month? Many birthdays: Martin’s, Lorene’s, Brian’s, Caroline’s (and all the rest of you–Happy Birthday!) A week in Tsaghkadzor, learning about project design management (I get to see other … Continue reading →

I found this quote posted in my younger sister’s room, a few days before I came to Armenia. I think it’s an appropriate reminder, as I think about the daily challenges we face as volunteers here. I want to be … Continue reading →

This week has been a great improvement over the past few! I’ve been really busy at school with my classes and clubs. Each volunteer is encouraged to join a program that links you to a teacher back in the US. I chose Mrs. Linda, the art teacher at my old elementary school. My students wrote pen pal letters to Mrs. Simmons’ class at Julington Creek Elementary and had a blast writing them. They had a hard time understanding cursive because they are not taught it here and I am sure the American children will have a hard time reading their letters in broken English. I sent the letters on Friday and they should be there in 2 or 3 weeks. Next year I want to start pen pal letters from the first week of school so the students can correspond the entire year.

My house hunt has taken on a whole new level. Here is a list of everyone who has been looking for a house for me: Teachers from both schools, the art school, the Noyemberyan police station, my host family and various neighbors. Last Thursday during the art school club I finally told them that if I could not find a house in my village then I would have to move to Noyemberyan. They actually jumped into a car and started driving around my village to find a house. As luck would have it, they found a house the next day. I hear it has no water and no shower, but who needs to be clean anyways? On Tuesday two staff members are coming from Yerevan to look at it so keep your fingers crossed!!

I am trying to be better at blogging seeing that I have only about 7 months left in country but sometimes it is a bit difficult as I can't always say what is on my mind. Peace Corps volunteers have a duty to be diplomatic. We live in our Host countries as a guest and so it’s best not to tear the culture apart. Obviously from time to time I have posted about things in particular that have bugged me, but they are always things that have occurred to me personally. I try not to make unfair judgments against Armenia and her people. However since I have begun a women's group in Spitak, issues constantly come up concerning Armenian's cultural perception of women that just break my heart for the women here. One of the biggest issues we’ve tackled in the group was domestic violence which is a common problem here. Since I have been in Armenia, I have dated a few Armenian men, and nothing has taught me more about Armenian culture than having these intimate relationships where nothing was out of bounds, conversation wise and where guards were let down. Most of the time here I am treated as an outsider would be treated, like a guest but not as an Armenian sister. If I ask about sensitive topics they are often denied and pushed under a rug, or admitted to, but with a clause that those sorts of things never happen in ______ (insert wherever I am at the moment). A common excuse is that bad things only happen in small villages, or where there are crazy people. So it can be very difficult to understand what really happens here. Having a boyfriend here changed things a bit though. Not only was I was able to talk to him about things that happened in our town, cultural values and his own views toward women, but I experienced what other Armenian women experience and learned exactly what a typical Armenian man wants from a woman. From my interactions with him I learned more about Armenian culture in 6 months than I had the previous year of my service. First of all it is important to state that I loved this man and still do, but our cultures are just too vastly different for us to ever have made it last long term. One of the very first arguments we had after becoming a couple had to do with me having male friends. He didn’t like that I had friends that were men at all. If I had to go to a Peace Corps event and stay somewhere that men would be, he didn’t really like it. I had to explain constantly that in my culture men and women are friends and nothing more and its ok. Finally he agreed to drop it, mostly because he could see that he didn’t really have any other options. Another argument we would get into concerned the way he talked to me. We obviously had more than our share of misunderstandings and miscommunications, as we both speak different languages and only speak a minimal level of the other’s language, but one thing that constantly bugged me was him telling me to do stuff. If he wanted a glass of water he would tell me to get him one. Now I have seen just about every other Armenian man here do that, so I don’t know why it surprised me so much, but it’s not me just to do what I am told. I constantly explained to him that if he wants something he should say please. He would constantly explain to me that if he is my boyfriend, we know each other and shouldn’t have to talk to each other as though we are strangers. Still to this day we have this argument, and I don’t see that it would ever be resolved. Along the same lines, he would become infuriated and offended whenever I thanked him for something. I have been sick more times than I can count since I have lived here and often times he would come over to take care of me, to make me tea or to bring me groceries or just to sit and keep me company while I was confined to my bed. Each time I would tell him how thankful I am and each time it was met with a look of indignation. Finally one day he told me that I shouldn’t tell him thank you; that he does what a friend would do and people shouldn’t be thanked for doing something for their friends. As an American, this was hard for me to swallow, I mean I come from a culture where we sell thank you cards, and now I am not suppose to say thank you to someone who has delivered groceries to my house and sat with me while I slept after working a 12 hour day… it was a very frustrating process. The most difficult thing though was living up to the expectations that he had of me. He expected me to want the same things as he did, but people from different cultures grow up wanting different things. He expected me to want to stay home if he couldn’t go out, to always have my house perfectly cleaned and to live dependent on him, something that is impossible for me. I mean you can’t take a girl that moved so far away from everything she knew and expect her to become dependent on a person, but it’s almost as if Armenian men don’t feel that they are men unless a woman is depending on them. From this relationship my respect for Armenian women and all they do for their husbands and families swelled, as I saw firsthand how much work taking care of an Armenian man is. Recently, the topic of relationships between Armenian men and women was brought up in my 11th grade class while I was teaching a lesson on stating opinions. Seeing that there were issues there to be discussed, I handed out papers with common opinions in Armenia about men and women. The papers had an opinion on them and the student had to tell me if he agreed or disagreed. The topics ranged from I only think skinny girls are beautiful and men with brown eyes are the most attractive, to men are more intelligent than women therefore a wife should do only as her husband tells her, and to a man has a right to hit his wife if she doesn’t keep the house cleaned. For the most part my students were more liberal in their answers and opinions. There was however a few topics that shocked me. The topic of a man beating his wife was hugely discussed in the sense of what rights he has. All the men in my class agreed that it was wrong for a man to beat his wife if she didn’t clean the house, but they said that if she cheated on him, the man has the right to kill her. I asked if they were serious and they were. I then asked if a man cheated should the woman have the right to kill him and they all said no. Also on the opinion, “a women should only care if a man provides food and shelter for her family and not if he has girlfriends on the side” the boys in class said that it isn’t right, but there were two girls in class who agreed with this. I was really surprised. It really told me a lot about what they feel that have to look forward to in marriage. I can honestly say this was the most interesting class I have had in all of my time in Armenia, and on this day I learned more from my students than I taught them. Anyways I think there is much to be said about the culture between men and women in this country but its best when described by an Armenian women herself. This blog is from my friend Vana, and she writes about situations in Armenia that only an Armenian woman has the passport into seeing first hand. I encourage you to read it because she shares so much more than I ever could and it’s such an interesting topic and gives a great insight into a kind of secret world of Armenian women… so click here

Perspective is everything. When I first considered joining the Peace Corps at a career fair at the beginning of my junior year at Michigan Tech, I still had two more years to go, which felt like an eternity. There was … Continue reading →

I have to hurry up and post about the rest of my trip before I get home, otherwise I will be really behind...

So from Laos, after the worst bus ride of the trip, we made it to Chiang Mai, Northern Thailand. It is a beautiful city, beautiful people, and really good food! It is way different than southern Thailand because northern Thailand is all hilly and lusher. Southern Thailand, at least the part that I saw, was beach and tropical. Both are beautiful and have so much to offer. I loved Chiang Mai and would go back in a heart beat!

We didnt have a lot of time there because we were chasing the moon to make it to Koh Pah-Ngan for the Full Moon Party. It wasnt something I was particularly interested in going but my travel partners were. So with only a few days in Chiang Mai, we spent one day walking around at night, one day walking around during the day and taking a taxi out to see the temple on a hill for sunset. Then the last day before our evening train ride, I took a cooking class and the others went ziplining. I would have liked to do zip lining but I needed to learn Thai cooking and this was about the last time I would have the chance.

It was delicious and a lot of fun! Learned 6 dishes but got the recipes for about 18. Full day course, including a tour through the market, and a grand total of 20 dollars! Ridiculously cheap for the amount of food we had! It was a lot of fun and I made a few friends. Some of them were at the beginning of their trip and were asking me questions about what I have done and seen. It surprised myself how much I knew and how much I have done! Whew, I have seen a lot in this short time!

After the cooking and zipping, we met at the hostel, packed up and took the train to Bangkok. Once there we figured out how to get a bus to the harbor, spent the night in the harbor, took the morning ferry to the island and took a truck to Haad Rin. We jumped out of there, found a wonderful guesthouse behind a delicious restaurant and dropped our stuff off. It was about 24 hours of traveling for a party... the most I have ever done! But it was fun, a bit ridiculous but pretty fun. I am not sure it was worth the 24 hours and maybe we hyped it up too much, but it was good. I also went to bed too soon and apparently missed a lot but oh well.

The island of Koh Pah-Ngan gets a lot of crap because of the full moon party but it actually is a beautiful island if you go away from Haad Rin. ze German convinced us to go on a death defying day of scootering around the island. I was terrified but after about the first three mountains I went up and down over, it actually was fun. We went around to the waterfalls and a few other beaches on the island. It was a lot of fun and I really enjoyed myself. I didnt die, didnt crash, and enjoyed the mountains on the way back. I am glad I did it and glad that ze German talked me into it.

From there, we went to Krabi town to get a ferry to Ton Sai, little sister to Hat Rai Lea. Beautiful, beautiful! It is a place for rock climbers so it wasnt completely my scene, but we went kayaking and swimming and got really really tan! Hehe. Its already fading, so dont get too mad at me. We had some delicious food and ate at Mama's Fried Chicken more times than I want to say. But the green curry for breakfast canceled out the chicken burgers we were eating at night. It was such a laid back time and a really nice way to part ways with all of our friends. ze German and Tobye left us to fly out of Bangkok and Parksie and I went south to Malaysia. We took our last ferry/van/train to arrive in Kuala Lumpur at 6 in the morning! Taking the train, I realized this was my last one for a while. Whereas Parksie will continually galavanting the world for a while, I will be flying home in 5 days to America land. Wow!

About 161 days we have spent together and it all comes to an end tonight.

I am not so sure how much I will blog after this or until maybe my next adventure. I still have some earlier adventures through Europe and Central America that I want to blog about so we will see...

See you when you see me! :)

This past Sunday Evelyn and I parted ways after two weeks of traveling together. On our trip we did a full loop of the northern half of Armenia; Starting and ending in Yerevan and visiting Berd, Vanadzor & Gyumri along the way. At each place we stayed with some great friends and even worked…I posted [...]

Gone! For two whole weeks, I have been away from my icy little town at the end of a road that no one goes down accidentally. It’s not on the way to anywhere except here (which, incidentally, makes it hard … Continue reading →

I stayed with my host family for New Year's, Armenia's biggest holiday. It is a bit of a combination of Christmas and New Year's celebrations. Dmzer Papik (grandfather winter) brings presents for children, and everyone stays up until a countdown to the new year and everyone drinks champagne. But midnight is really just the beginning of the New Year Celebrations, and a large meal is eaten at midnight and countless toasts are done to celebrate the New Year.

That is a 3 liter bottle of Smirnoff. Except it's filled with homemade pair vodka. And you use a pump.

The table is set.

Then the days following are filled with visiting countless houses of relatives, being visited by countless relatives at your house, and eating and drinking at every house you are at. This goes on until about the 6th of January, which is Armenian Christmas.

Also Armenians enjoy using the Chinese zodiac for the new year, and this year, being the Year of the Dragon (Happy Chinese New Year! It was few days ago!), I saw this new year calendar:

It says 'Year of the Dragon (Vishap)'Total Maiden or Dio cover, am I right? I think there is a dragon underneath the guy or . . . I really have no idea, but it's awesome. Much better than those rabbits from last year!

The kids at K-1 are already 4 lessons into their lessons for the bathroom remodeling project! We asked,"how do we stay healthy?"during a lesson, and answers were "drink tea!", "drink mint tea!", "wear slippers!", "lemons!", "yogurt!", "don't be cold!". Then Arrevik and I talked about exercise, washing their hands with soap, personal hygiene, the food pyramid, and being happy with friends and family.... ;)

Two days later, we had them draw everything we talked about during "how do we stay healthy?" on a couple posterboards. They drew basketballs, toothbrushes, soap, soccerballs, fruit, fires, houses, families, friends, hearts, flowers, and happy people.

So how am I staying healthy?.... Well, that's something I'm trying to work on right now:) Some of us PCVs & some Staff are planning to do an office version of the Biggest Loser starting February 1st. Exciting!

The challenge should you choose to accept it: to live 2 weeks with only 3,000 dram. Ok now before you jump over to google and look up the currency exchange rate let me give you a few examples of how much things cost in Armenia. My rent for example is 25,000 dram. A bus ride to the city is 1,000 dram one way. A kilogram of apples is about 600 dram. A half kilo of cheese is about 1,500 dram. A small bottle of juice is about 600 dram. And chicken breasts are about 3,000 dram for 4. Internet is 10,000 dram. So now you should have an accurate understanding of the general costs of some of the necessities in Armenia so I can tell you that 3,000 dram equals roughly $7.75. Is it possible to live on such a small amount? Well the short answer to that question is absolutely not. But what does a Peace Corps Volunteer do when that is all the money they have to last them for 2 weeks? This mission was not a choice for me to choose to accept, this month I had to accept the mission because for the past two weeks that is all the money I have had to my name. Before you get so worried, it was an abnormal month for me, and Peace Corps does give us a decent amount of money to live on for the month, though arguably not enough to live very well on. In fact many of our senior citizens dip well into their pension money just to be able to live a comfortable life and eat the food that they want to eat, or use their heating as much as they want to use it. The major thing that Peace Corps doesn’t consider is that different places in Armenia cost different amounts to live. I for example happen to live in a very cold region, and it stays cold for months and months, whereas a friend of mine lives a half hour from Yerevan and has only in the past month needed to begin to use her heating system, whereas Spitak had snow in October. So obviously my heating bill is exponentially higher than her bill is. And when in March she has spring, it will still be a very cold winter in Spitak. Also things cost different amounts of money depending if you live in a town or a village, for example a taxi is three hundred dram anywhere you go in Spitak but in most villages it’s about 200 or even only 100. When I lived in a village I even paid less for grains and vegetables. There is also the fact that volunteers who live in a village often have their own home, which costs more for heating, but that home also usually comes with a garden or at least tons of neighbors who have gardens, so it amounts to free food. This simply isn’t the case in Spitak. This is why when you ask volunteers if they are given enough of a monthly stipend to survive some would say yes, and some would say no, and most would say they have used up some of their savings. Anyways, I digress. The fact is this month Sophie had her operation, which even though my brother and sister gave me money to cover the costs of it, (thanks Alyson and Scott) ended up costing me a lot of my monthly stipend. Sophie got an infection and ended up needing a lot of anti biotic shots, which at 5,000 dram a piece, cost me almost the same amount as the original operation. She also had to be given pain medicine when she got her stitches out which cost another 5,000 dram. Then there was the living in Yerevan for a week part of the costs. Its common sense that living in a city is a lot more expensive than living in a village, and Yerevan is no exception. When you are not at home you have to pay more money for food and transportation. Every day to get to the vet’s office I theoretically had to pay 600 dram each way, however twice I got ripped off and was made to give 1,500 dram or even worse 3,000 dram! Armenian taxi drivers are mostly jerks! They see that you are American or even Russian and they try to steal from you. At the end of the week I got so fed up with it that when a guy tried to charge me 2,000 dram to go about 3 kilometers I told him that I know the cost is only 200 dram per kilometer and when he argued I threw a five hundred dram piece and him and left. He began to scream after me but I was so fed up that I didn’t care. This however is not something I would recommend, usually you are better off negotiating a price before you even get into the cab, explaining to them that you know the fair, or even better taking a metered cab, but when you are travelling with an animal you have little choice in the matter. So it is best to just get ripped off with a smile on your face. So back to the question at hand, can you live for two weeks with only 7 dollars and .75 cents? The question was brought up one day a week ago while I was at school. Teachers, while not making a whole lot of money, love to spend every cent they make on cloths and makeup and things for their homes, just as Americans do. So a few times a month they bring in catalogs or sometimes even new cloths that someone has sent to them from America or Russia to sell. On this particular day I walked into the teacher’s lounge and saw sweaters and tights and dresses lined up on the sofa. Five or six women were picking at the cloths as chickens peck at their food, intensively inspecting each item for damage, asking how much it costs and then conversing about the item in whispers, careful not to offend the seller. My counterpart comes over to me.“Don’t you want to buy” she asks me. I laugh as I have never bought cloths from them because quite honestly I don’t have the money to buy them. “What’s the matter? Don’t you think they are lovely?” She asks again laughing. “Well, I have only 3,000 dram to last for the next two weeks” I tell her.She gasps, causing the others to look up from the cloths and ask her to translate. She explains to them that I only have 3,000 dram for two weeks, and they all begin to laugh. One says now you live like a true Armenian, while another is more honest and tells me that I will live off of bread only for two weeks and maybe by the end of the week I won’t even have enough for bread! The other tells me that I need to do as an Armenian does and buy now and pay later, though not being a Spitakian no store has ever allowed me to do that, though it is very common. Another teacher tells me it is simply not possible to do and that I must use other money. You see I am an American which to them means that I have money. They simply cannot believe that I have none. 3,000 dram they puff, not possible. So today is Monday and I have yet to make it till Thursday, payday. So far I have spent 340 drams on cabbage twice, last week and this week, so about 680. I bought milk for 360 dram. So 1040 drams. I had to buy toilet paper so I bought the littlest one I could at 280 dram as well as 10 eggs for 600 dram. That brought me to 1,920 dram. Where I have stayed until just a day ago I have a very strong craving for chocolate and bought a chocolate bar for 400 dram! I know, what was I thinking?!?!? 2, 320 drams I have spent in a week and a half and have 4 days to go with only 680 dram. Knowing that I had nothing this morning, I still managed to get out of the house late, meaning that I would have to take a taxi, which if you remember is three hundred drams. I began a frantic search through all of my bags to find loose change, but came up with nothing other than American quarters and dimes. Then I remembered a jar that I had stored away during the summer containing 10 dram pieces. 10 dram coins are the bane of Armenian money, they are like pennies in America. Yes by law you can use them as they are currency, but many times people will simply refuse to take them, and often, no make that all the time you will get major attitude for using them. I dug out the jar and counted out 300 drams worth. As I got into the cab, I felt so guilty, knowing that I was going to piss the driver off. Just waiting for that embarrassing moment where I would hand him a fist full of huge silver 10 dram coins. The whole 10 minute ride to my school, I felt my face burning red, hoping the driver wouldn’t talk to me, it would be much worse if he was friendly. I mean can you imagine paying for something in pennies? When we pulled up to my school, I apologized as I handed him a fist full of change. I waited for the scolding, eyebrows raised, a sweet smile on my face but instead I got a laugh and a problem chka. I was so relieved! So with four more days I have about 700 dram and a jar full of ten dram coins. I am pretty sure that as long as I don’t get a sudden unbearable craving for chocolate, or the need to go absolutely anywhere, I should be fine! So mission 3,000 dram in 2 weeks, not only accepted but dominated! This is of course my second winter here and I am well used to living off of nothing but cabbage, potatoes and eggs!! Could you do the same? Could you survive with say only 25 dollars for two weeks?? Or how about 50?? I challenge you to give it a try ;)

I'm not even sure where to begin with writing about this vacation. Maybe that's why I've procrastinated posting about it for so long! Needless to say, it was an awesome trip. The timing of it was perfect -- after being in Armenia for so long, I was very excited to get to more English language-friendly cities. Of course, not knowing a word of Georgian or Turkish, it still wasn't that easy. But at least it was easier than speaking Armenian all the time. Additionally, I think if I'd stayed in Armenia for the entire winter break from school (two weeks in total), I would've gone a bit nuts. Most of all, it was great spending time with my boyfriend and travel buddy! But I'll save that mushy-gushy stuff from the blog. Overall, Tbilisi and Istanbul were great vacation destinations; I really liked them both. So here are a few of the highlights...

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That’s “Yerevan” written in Russian letters. It the capital city of Armenia, but it is also the name of a magazine written for Armenians in the diaspora. I wrote it in Russian letters because I just found out that the Russian edition (there is also an English and French edition) of this magazine recently had an [...]

Swords into Plowshares: Peace Corps Service in Eastern Europe and Eurasia

CREES Noon Panel with Rutherford Hubbard, REES MA/JD student, UM, and RPCV (Armenia 2006-08); Mahima Mahadevan, MPP student, UM, and RPCV (Kyrgyz Republic 2004-06); William Nash, immigration specialist, International Center, UM, and RPCV (Ukraine 2001-03); and Maria Smith, REES MA/MPP student, UM, and RPCV (Azerbaijan 2006-08). Part of UM's 50th Anniversary of the Peace Corps series and LSA Theme Semester. Sponsored by CREES and the International Policy Center. October 27, 2010. From: umcrees Views: 0 0 ratings Time: 54:24 More in Education

Happy New Year!* (No that’s not an asterisk taking back or amending my “Happy New Year” statement. Read to the end to find out why I put an asterisk there.) Nor Tari (New Year) in Armenia is not to be … Continue reading →

I've noticed several times on buses here something you won't ever see in the US. On a crowded bus a family with a child gets on the bus and a complete stranger, usually a young woman, picks up the child, without even asking the family, and sets the child on her lap. This isn't viewed as strange and every time I've seen it has been accepted as normal by the family and the child. I think it shows an intimacy between Armenians that is fascinating to me because I have never seen anything like that in the US.

And now some pictures of Tbilisi:

I've started contributing to an Armenia Tourism Blog. A version of this post will appear on www.armenia-hayastan.com

I live in a village near Armavir Marz, which for a long time seemed like the most boring region of Armenia. Sure, it has Echmiadzin, the historic center of the Armenian Apostolic Church, but that’s so far to the East of the Marz that it’s practically a suburb of Yerevan, and everyone treats it as such. Other Marzes have stunning mountains, placid valleys, deep forests, serene lakes and historic cities. Armavir Marz starts as a swampy and treeless plain along the Arax river, which forms its Southern and Western Border, then turns into a rocky, treeless plain that slopes upwards towards Mt. Aragats, the tallest mountain in Armenia (which is, of course, in Aragatsotn Marz). The best the region could boast for natural beauty was that it has an excellent view of Mt. Ararat, because there’s nothing else to get in the way. Except, of course, for the 4 smokestacks of the Metsamor nuclear powerplant, which can be seen from nearly every corner of the Marz. “Surely,” I thought, “There’s nothing out here that can bring in tourists.”

Armavir Marz: Good Sightlines

But I found out that I was wrong! Armavir Marz boasts not one, but two excellent and under-discovered museums, both of which are only a short drive from Echmiadzin and Yerevan: The Metsamor Archaeological Site and The Sardarapat Museum and Memorial. The Sardarapat Museum and Memorial is the site of a last-ditch battle in 1918 between the nascent Republic of Armenia and the forces of the Ottoman Empire, who wished to reclaim Yerevan, Gyumri (then Alexandropol) and Tbilisi. The Armenians won, ensuring the survival of the nation and the people. Memories of the battle were soon eclipsed by the arrival of the Red Army in 1921 and the establishment of the Armenian Soviet Socialist Republic. But in 1968, a memorial was erected, accompanied by an ethnographic museum. On the November day I visited, the grounds of the memorial were completely empty, which certainly added to the monumental feel of the Soviet Architecture. It took a full ten minutes to cover the distance from the memorial to the ethnographic museum, during which time I saw no other people. I did, however, note a plaque, a bronze copy of a proclamation by the Senate of the great state of New Jersey memorializing the Battle of Sardarapat.

New Jersey Recognizes

The Memorial

When I got to the museum, the staff quickly turned the lights on for me. I was impressed. It had obviously been recently renovated. Someone turned on a new flat-screen TV and popped in a DVD with a program about the architecture of the memorial and the museum, which is built like a caravanserai. The museum exhibited clothes, weapons, pottery and artifacts of daily life, including a working loom. In the central courtyard is an exhibit dedicated to the battle, showcasing the weapons and tactics used. A looming presence Manos As I was walking around, I suddenly heard English voices echoing through the stone corridor. I raced up to the second floor. There was a small group of tourists from Finland! I listened to the rest of the tour, then introduced myself to the guide. Over tea and apple slices in front of the electric stove/space heater in a back room, she told me she was an English teacher at a local village school who moonlighted as a tour guide on weekends. We exchanged numbers, then I began the long walk back to the complex’s entrance.The Metsamor Archaelogical Site is located near the village of Taronik, about 10km west of Echmiadzin. From the Bronze Age until the 17th century AD, the area was a thriving urban center. Its residents produced and traded gold, obsidian, ceramics and other valuable commodities that were dug up during excavations in the 1950’s, 60’s and 70’s. At the Metsamor Museum, you can see the ruins of ancient observatories and factories, as well as artifacts bearing the marks of the empires that rose and fell around Armenia: Babylonian Cuneiform Seals, Assyrian Bulls, Hellenistic Vases. When I visited in January, I was the only guest. [[Jana, come out, there’s a man here!]] I heard one of the staff call to the other.[[What?]][[There’s a man here, a foreigner!]][[Does he speak Russian?]][To me] “Paval Ruskie?”[[No, I speak English and a little Armenian.]][[You have to buy a ticket. Would you like a tour?]][[How much is it?]][[300 dram for the ticket, 1500 for the tour in Armenian, 3000 for the tour in English]][[I’ll take the English tour please]]And so I got a tour from Ashot, a stout, sturdy scientist and archaeological expert who spoke some English, and Mariam, a pretty young student and translator from Echmiadzin. Mariam’s cellphone kept ringing,[1] so many times Ashot conducted the tour in Armenian, which my taxi driver dutifully listened to in between checking his watch. Mariam was off her cell when Ashot took us to the padlocked iron gate to the basement.“Our greatest treasure here is” said Ashot“Here are our greatest treasures” said MariamThe only light came from the display case, which housed a skeleton lying in a fetal position, surrounded by jewels and accompanied by three skulls, each with a hole in the side of their head. “Rich man.” Said Ashot“He was a rich man, buried with his servants” said Mariam.The next room was also dark, with light coming from glass cases holding jewelry made from gold and precious stones, as well as the museum’s treasure: a frog made from precious stone, marked with cuneiform that noted it weighed precisely one shekel, about 8.5 grams. After coming out of the basement, I walked the grounds with Ashot while Mariam stayed warm inside. We picked up ceramic shards from the dirt. He gave one to me.[A gift.] he said.
[1] Armenians must answer a ringing cellphone. It is the law.

The past two weeks of my life have been devoted entirely to my dog Sophie. You see Sophie is just over a year old now and has already been in heat once. Having a female dog in heat has to be just about the worst thing ever, especially during the summer when I had no other choice but to keep her locked inside all day. Luckily for me, I happened to meet a vet while celebrating a friend’s birthday a few months previously. Meeting him and talking to him about animal care in Armenia, the costs, the dangers and the stigma of having your dog fixed, eased my mind about getting the surgery for her done while we were here. I put it off for so long, not only because it is very expensive here but also because it is not such a common procedure. The cost is anywhere from 30 to 60,000 drams to fix a female dog which is obviously money Armenians just don’t have, especially not for a dog. Veterinary care in post soviet country is limited to say the least, justifiably so when health care is also limited. So early Saturday morning Sophie and I made our way down to the bus stop to catch our marshutka. I never bring Sophie to Yerevan with me, and the thought of her on the Marshutka makes me very nervous, but it had to be done. Luck was against me as the mini bus was full and most of the passengers were not too happy about having to share a ride with a dog! Once we arrived in Yerevan the vet told my taxi driver where to go, and when we arrived I was quite surprised to see we were at residential building and not an office. My friend instructed me to stay in the car as he took Sophie from me, my arms grasping on to her not wanting to let her go. Wait, I instructed him. I asked why I couldn’t go with him and wait for her to be done, and he told me that surgery was a very long one and that I must go. I was a little bit surprised and really quite frightened but I didn’t really know what to do, so I warned him that Sophie is not just my dog, she is my baby and to take good care of her. Leaving a dog with someone you don’t really know and have no credentials for is terrifying. It’s not as if I could look him up on yelp…I went to my friend Leslie’s house and slept a few hours, thinking that I would just take a nap and when I woke up I would be ready to go get Sophie. I thought the operation would take about 2 hours, three at most. Boy was I wrong. 5 hours later I began to panic a bit, wondering what could have gone wrong. After about 7 hours had elapsed I got a phone call telling me to come get my Sophie Jan. When I arrived at the vet’s house I was warmly greeted by his family, his mother, father and sister as well as their 5 dachshunds. Razmik introduced me to his father who he said was also a vet and specialized in anesthesiology. The father immediately came over to me with a huge smile on his face and a cigarette in hand. He told me my Sophie was a very good dog and escorted me into the living room where Sophie was laying on a table. As soon as she saw me she stood up and began to wag her tail again before she fell. She tried to jump off the table but was too drugged up. The poor thing looked awful. I looked around and thought to myself what the hell did I do to her. At the same time she was obviously high on narcotics and it was funny to watch her spacing out! She had an incision mark along the whole of her abdomen and was very weak. We sat for awhile as Sophie gained some strength and the Vet and his family talked to me and my friend who I brought along with me. The family told me how much the father Garik, loved my Sophie and how he just thought she was such a good dog. He told me how he asked her to sit in Armenian and Russian but that she didn’t understand but as soon as he asked her in English she sat right down. They also told me that when they called her Armenian pet names she didn’t respond so the sister came in and called her baby, to which she began to wag her tail! Then he told me a story I wish I never heard, he told me that as they were preparing to open Sophie up she lifted her head and looked at the doctors, scalpel in hand, and that they had to give her more medicine. My poor little puppy!!! The next day I was instructed to take Sophie back to receive some post-op care and a shot of antibiotics. This time I was on my own, not even the younger vet who spoke English was going to be able to be there. When she arrived at the vet’s house, the family was very happy to see her, everyone petting her and telling her what a good dog she is. We talked about how she had spent her night, how the surgery had gone the previous day and what I would need to do in the future for her. The whole time Garik was trying to get Sophie to come to him, but she wouldn’t. He explained to me that he had given her the narcotic shot and that it is a very painful shot, so she didn’t trust him anymore. He reminded me of a big kid, trying to get the puppy to love him. At one point he even made his wife bring a piece of meat so that he could feed it to her. Once she went to him he petted her and told her what a good dog she is, in the sweet coddling language that Armenian is. He then flipped her over on the table and began to treat her scar with peroxide and idodine. It was really difficult to watch as the mother held her head down and the daughter had a grip on her feet. She struggled but in the end realized she wasn’t strong enough to overtake them. The whole time the family spoke to Sophie, telling her it was ok, and that they wouldn’t hurt her. Not the cold, uncaring treatment I imagined they would give her. In the end the process took about an hour. We talked, paused for breaks during the examination, had coffee and fruit and the Doctor smoked, nothing extraordinary in Armenian business. At an American clinic the process would have taken ten minutes total. But this is Armenia, and Armenians are nothing if not hospitable and conversational. The next two days we repeated this process, each time was the same, good conversations, coffee and a little bit of veterinary care. At the end of each session the vet would call me a cab to take me back to the house that I was staying. Well on this last day, when we got to the cab, the driver refused to let Sophie in the car. It may surprise you to hear, but this never has happened to me before. The vet got very angry and yelled at the driver, telling him that he doesn’t ask if he has transported sick people in the car so why should others care if he has transported a dog a few blocks. He was very angry and when we went back upstairs he called to company to complain and told them that he has always used their service but would never use them again. It struck me how much this man loved animals as he began to rant about Armenians and their perception of animals, and how poorly they treat them. He told me that he and a friend of his go out every night for an hour and feed as many of the stray dogs as they can, and that he has even brought many home with him and found them a place to live. We began to talk about the stigma of having an animal spayed in Armenia and I explained to him that everyone in Spitak told me I was mean, for doing it. This got him into even more of a range and he made the same argument I have made many times, which is, is it better for me to allow her to have puppies that no one will care for and will starve to death and be gathered and shot out in the streets? There are a few things that impressed me about this experience. One was the availability that the Doctors made themselves to me. I had home phone numbers and personal cell phone numbers and was encouraged to call any time I was worried or had a question. Can you even imagine that in America?? Doctors would get so many phone calls from paranoid pet parents that it could never last very long. I mean I called the doctor the first night at 12 pm, of course he told me he would still be up at that time, so I knew it was ok. Also they treated me not as a paying customer, but as a friend. I felt like I was a friend and a guest in their home. We talked about many things, not just about Sophie. I also felt as though they loved my Sophie dog, they treated her as if she was absolutely their only priority, even when they had other patients and were running late. Yes, it was strange for this American to see a surgery performed in a house, and yes I did worry about sterility issues. Yes the equipment was old, and dated, and yes Sophie’s incision was 5 times as big as a dog would get in the USA, but I am living in Armenia now, and all those conditions are just part of life here. Doctors smoke while treating patients here, human or animal, and business moves slowly, not because they overbook as they do in America, but because they take the time to be personal. It was a very frightening experience for me, but Sophie is absolutely fine now even though she did get a slight infection which ended up costing me twice as much money. I am lucky to have had such great care here. Did I mention all of my interactions with the vet were 100 percent in Armenian!! At the end of these stressful weeks, I can look back at how far I have come, and the fact that I was able to take my dog to the vet and communicate everything about her history and her treatment and understand all of the vet’s instructions as well as in depth conversations about animal care in Armenia, and compare it to the care in the US. No my Armenian is not perfect, but I am doing the best I can, and for once it is enough.

Sorry that my last blog was a bit of a bummer. I was really homesick and wanted nothing more than to be back in Florida. Emotionally, the highs here are VERY high and lows are VERY low. I can be in the best most mood ever because I had a full conversation in Armenian with someone on a marshutni. Then I can start crying because I drank apple tea and it reminded me of my boyfriend and I in Istanbul together. It’s pathetic really. I’ve lost my emotional filter and stability. Here is a summary of what I did today if you want to get an idea of why every day can be so tiring:

I woke up in the dark and got changed in my freezing cold room because the fire died at around 2 am. Then I went to the outhouse, made breakfast, checked my email and went to school. It started to snow on my way to school as I got stared at by every unemployed man in the village. I got to school, found out my counterpart already taught our class because ‘she was free,’ and so I sat and waited. I ate lunch with the same really nice ladies I do every day and practiced my Armenian. My counterpart decided she wanted me for the next lesson so we went to a class together, which was just reading from the textbook. Then I learned that my club was cancelled because the students think of the first week back to school as a free week and went home. So I started the snowy walk home with a group of my 4th form students. They had written letters to Santa Claus and given them to me (because of course Santa lives in America) and yesterday I had brought them letters back from Santa. They were so excited about the letters that they kept asking me if I had met him and if he would bring real presents next year (Santa was only able to bring them candy this year, oops). I was having a great time laughing and making jokes with the students. Then I laughed so hard that the gum I was chewing fell out of my mouth and into my hair. More laughter ensued and I held onto a clump of hair the rest of the way home. One girl wanted me to come to her house so her mother could cut my hair to get the gum out. Another gave me a Strawberry Shortcake sticker to make me feel better and it honestly made my day. I finally got home, cut the gum out of my hair, and wrote a few emails. My host mom came home and told me there was a package waiting for me so I walked to the post office to find the long lost package my grandma sent 3 months ago. And it was great. I just finished eating one of those Reese’s Christmas trees and I’m wearing a new sweater she sent me. It’s 5:30 pm here and pitch black outside.

As a reminder to myself and to all of you supportive readers of my blog, the goals of Peace Corps are:

1. Helping the people of interested countries in meeting their need for trained men and women.

2. Helping promote a better understanding of Americans on the part of the peoples served.

3. Helping promote a better understanding of other peoples on the part of Americans.

Summary: Goal 1 is in limbo right now, I’m doing a great job with goal 2 and I’m working on goal 3.

I know that every day here is going to have highs and lows, but the lack of control over our lives here makes emotions stronger. Living with a host family, even when they are the nicest people ever, is hard after a frustrating day at work. I’m trying to move out of my host family’s house despite the lack of safe housing in my village. My ideal situation would have been to live with another volunteer nearby, but that idea was rejected L I’ll keep you posted on my housing woes and hopefully I’ll write a happier blog next time.

From time to time I will go back to the small town of Blanco where I grew up. Since my parents moved from there almost 7 years ago, I have lost touch with the place. But it is so fascinating and satisfying to go back to the places that I have trekked over, made a memory in, worked at, or observed in quietness. The grocery store, Super S Foods, is a place that has not changed much over the years, and I wandered in and was immediately swept up with old visions and smells. I was lucky to get the checker, Randall, to pose for me. Perception and memory is a concept I'm interested in, and hope to shoot more things revolving around this personal experience.

I went on vacation over Christmas. To Tbilisi, the capital of the Caucasian country of Georgia. (So there, left no room for stupid jokes, comments, or quips about the US state).

Tbilisi is a beautiful capital city with an old town and a rich history. It was the center of East Armenian culture before the founding of the modern country of Armenia shortly after World War I.

We walked just about everywhere we went in the city, with a few places in mind (McDonald's, this classy bar I'd been to before but couldn't remember how to get to), but really we walked around, saw some place nearby, or in the distance and said, hey, let's go there.

With so few specific plans we just explored and made it up as we go along. On our way to find X we stumbled on Y, then decided to head for Z, giving up on ever finding X, only to find X a day later, completely by accident.

Everywhere we went, if I had to order food, or do something rather automatic, I found myself trying to constantly use my Armenian, without even realizing it. My brain was just trying to grasp for anything foreign and it just found the most readily available language, just not the right one. In McDonald's one of the cashiers actually knew Armenian, and after I apologized and used English we had a short conversation, which was nice, and a bit of surprise.

When you're on vacation one of the things I love to do is cancel plans. I'm on vacation! There is nothing I have to do. Everything is optional, and for instance, our one trip outside of the city entailed going to the birthplace of Joseph Stalin and the museum that is now there. Stalin was from Georgia and so statues are not uncommon of him there, and while I can't comment on attitudes today, historically Georgians have had a favorable view towards him as one of their own, hence, his own museum.

So that was about 45 minutes away from the capital, and we had planned on doing it, and we decided, ya know, we don't have to go. We all sortof agreed and that was that. We explored more parts of Tbilisi and even got to go on top of a fortress that overlooks the city. A really cool place. And pretty much nothing was off limits, so we climbed all around this abandoned fortress that was now a tourist attraction. I'd post pictures but I'll have to steal them from a friend because I didn't bring my camera for any of this! Amot Inz (Shame on me.)

Last year began with laughter, fire crackers, dancing, armsswaying in the air, Armenian style of course, a table lavishly covered in thebest Armenian foods and good natured brother and sister teasing about who ourtiny little puppy Sophie loved the most. New Years 2011 was a different kind ofNew Years for me, one I had never experienced before, an Armenian New Year. Anappropriate beginning to the very uniquely Armenian life that I have lived thepast year. I spent the entirety of 2011 living in Armenia, something Inever could have imagined myself doing before, life never tells us where it’staking us! In the beginning of February 2011 I moved into my own Apartment inSpitak, and so began an interesting journey for me. A journey in which Ilearned to actually live in Spitak as a Spitakian and not as an American. Idon’t mean to suggest that people don’t stare at me still, or that I 100percent fit in. I merely mean that Spitak has become my community, the placewhere I call home, at least for now. My first 5 months in Spitak, I didn’t feela connection with the community, everyone stared at me, talked about me and notto me, and I had no friends. Every chance I had, I tried to get out of here, toseek the comfort and understanding of my American friends. Things changed whenI finally moved into my own apartment at the beginning of the year. I began tobuild relationships with my neighbors, shopkeepers, and the neighborhoodchildren. At first everywhere I went people asked me who I was and why I wasthere, but by now, it is a rare occasion that someone in Spitak doesn’t knowwho I am or for that matter who Sophie is. Having Sophie has made it much easierfor me to adjust to living in a village on my own. Not only does she keep mecompany, but she attracts attention, often deflecting it from myself. She hasbecome a great way for me to meet people, but also a great excuse for me to getaway from people when I need it. I am pretty sure that at this point, morepeople in Spitak know her name than mine!! Not only have I become acquainted with people in my town,but I have also made many close friendships and even had a relationship thispast year. I can honestly say that I fell in love with a Spitak man and thetime that I spent as his girlfriend was some of the greatest time I have spentin Armenia. He taught me so much about Armenian culture, and improved my languageskills immensely. We dated for 5 months out of the past year, and even thoughit ended quite some time ago, he has become one of my best friends not onlyhere and now, but of all time. Obviously there were too many culturaldifferences to overcome for us, which resulted in us constantly fighting. This experienceopened my eyes to the real life of Armenian women, and in part was the reason Ibecame so determined to start a young women’s group here. The young women’sgroup, though newly founded and just underway, is the one thing I am most proudof this past year. I recently heard that the director of the YMCA, who was verycautious about us undertaking such a huge task, has sung our praise and told ushe couldn’t be happier and wants more meetings and more involvement. It hasbeen an amazing experience to see my vision coming to fruition. As the year closes, I once again realize what an amazingopportunity I have been given, being here in Armenia has truly been muchtougher than I ever thought it would be, but also much more rewarding. As Iplan my last eight months in this country, I realize that it has changed memore than I could ever hope to change it, but that I still have so much more togive. I am not going to lie, I have even been thinking about extending for onemore year, in hopes of expanding the women’s group and making my work here moresustainable. Whether that will happen yet is still to be decided, but one thingis for sure, 2011 has been the most influential year of my life. I haverealized dreams I never knew I had, and have begun to dream that I would havenever dared to dream a year ago. I notonly wish everyone a happy new year, but I wish you a year of self discovery,adventure, love and charity and of course, felicity, passion and rapture ;)

So I leave you with some of my favorite photos of the past year!

*** I posted this blog before New Year's eve, but for some reason it never posted, hence the not so relevant topic!!

The Red Apple - http://b0x.ee/wzQBDD (via Boxee) A video on abortions in Armenia. Very interesting. Subtitled in English.

The Peace Corps has three official goals, that they have had, from its inception:Helping the people of interested countries in meeting their need for trained men and women.Helping promote a better understanding of Americans on the part of the peoples served.Helping promote a better understanding of other peoples on the part of Americans.Last summer my family visited me in Armenia and got to see some of what it was like when I lived in a village during training. They got to try the street food and many other Armenian foods.

My sister, who is becoming quite the cook, had an Armenian themed meal after she went back, making several traditional Armenian foods, Armenian barbeque (Khorovats), Lahmajo (pictured below), and a green bean and eggs dish.

Lahmajo, also popular around the entire region

She shared this food with her friends and family and helped them gain insight into Armenian culture through their cuisine, an enormously important part of any culture. I was glad my sister enjoyed her time in Armenia enough to recreate some of the cuisine while she was in America.

Winter is starting to set in, so there are no vegetables (the ones that are available are ten times as expensive as they were in the summer) and the lack of selection usually starts to wear on you. Though we have mandarins right now! They will be gone soon, but until then, I will be eating them every single day until they leave.

The past month has gone by so fast that I can’t believe its January already. I spent a fun 24 hours in Tbilisi, the capital of Georgia, and almost a week in Istanbul (my new favorite city). The weather in Istanbul was perfect and the food was amazing. Even the street food was some of the best food I have had in months: chicken kebabs, fresh squeezed pomegranate juice and roasted chestnuts. I was in a nice hotel with people who spoke English. Then, I came back to Armenia. Within one day I was freezing, asked 3 times if I was married and I was forced to talk with my host family’s house guest even though I was exhausted. Honestly, it was so hard to return to Armenia. To the land of the sunless days and foggy nights, filled with mud, ice, and snow. I’m still having a hard time readjusting, and I can only imagine it will be worse when I come home this summer. Yep, I decided to come home around June/July because I would go crazy waiting until Christmas. Some volunteers go home three times throughout their service while others never go home during their two years. Knowing that I’m going home in 6 months will definitely help me get through my first white winter.

Since this week of school was canceled there was no reason for me to stay at my site. I traveled to Noyemberyan to help Danelle teach her kindergarten class about hygiene. We mixed glitter with lotion and shook hands with each child so they could see how germs spread. Then I traveled to Dilijan with a few volunteers to help introduce boxing at the school. Basically, we watched children box each other and played random games with them at the end of the day. The next day all of us volunteers went on a hike, my first hike through snow. Now I’m back in my village about to begin the second semester of school with no break until school finishes in June. A few months ago I would have said ‘bring it on,’ but at this moment I’m thinking ‘just survive until summer.’ Sigh.

So it is ending. About 20 days left on this wonderfuladventure of mine and then it will be on to America to start a newadventure. Getting settled back home,moving in with the parents, adjusting to America, living out of a house insteadof a suitcase, options on menus, driving, everyone understanding what I amsaying, using English all the time… all the small things that I will have toreadjust to while getting a job and starting to make some of that money! Whew.As overwhelming as that seems and will be, I am ready for it. Well, half of me is ready, the other half isreally, REALLY sad that I have to leave this lifestyle. And yes, traveling is a lifestyle. Wearing the same three shirts over and over,smelling, sharing bathrooms with 20 other strangers, learning to try and sleepon buses, planning your next few days, crossing borders, meeting new peopleconstantly, being in situations where you don’t know what is going on but youneed to understand. It is a lifestyle. It is a crazy and wonderful lifestyle that Iwill miss sincerely.

But enough of that, more of what I have planned and what Ihave seen and done. That is what thisblog is all about: updating on my adventures. Last I left you, I finished touring Siam Reap and the Angkor Wattemples, which are still amazing and one of the coolest things I haveseen. We headed from there toBattambang, Cambodia. It is supposed tobe the second largest city in Cambodia and I am not sure how. It was completelydead at night, not to say it wasn’t interesting or worthwhile, just not whatyou expect the second largest city in a country to be like. We arrived fairly early in the day, droppedour stuff off, and walked around the city. We basically saw everything there was to see within the city thatafternoon. The next day we booked a tuktuk to take us around the city to the temples that were about 40 or sokilometers outside. They were reallyinteresting. We went to the KillingCaves, which has a horrible background story from the Khmer Rouge. It is such juxtaposition because the caveitself is beautiful but the history of what happened there is brutal. We also saw a few temples around the areawhich were really pretty and one of them is supposedly what the main temple atAngkor Wat is modeled after. We alsodrove through some rice fields and got to see a little of village life. The kids are so friendly and they alwayssmile and wave at you. It is a lot offun and really shows the happiness and simplicity in children all over theworld. Children are children no matterwhere you are and they all want the same things in life: to play andlaugh.

The next stop on our trip was supposed to be a fishingvillage outside of Phnom Penh and on the way to the border with Laos but ourbus just kind of flew right by our stop and we ended up in Phnom Penh AGAIN!Ah. While the city is great and I reallydo enjoy it, we have been there three times and only have planned to go thereonce! But it turned out for the better because we were able to book bus ticketsto Don Det and the 4000 Islands in southern Laos and also arranged our visasahead of time. We probably should havejust gotten our visas at the border but with so much conflicting informationabout the border crossing and visa on arrival availability, we just got it inadvance. The first night in Phnom Penh,I checked out couchsurfing.org and saw that they had a CS weekly meet up so weheaded to there to meet some fellow travelers and also some people who live inPhnom Penh. It was pretty cool and wemet some interesting people who were doing short volunteer stints in Cambodiathrough various programs and organizations. They had some interesting viewpoints about the city and I think it is wonderful to meet ‘expats’ because youare able to get an outsiders view of the inside.

The next day we walked around Phnom Penh and saw more of thetemples and museums in the area. Southeast Asia is such a small area and there is such a backpackerstrail that people we saw in Battambang, we met randomly again in a museum thatafternoon. This has happened repeatedlyand is always fun because we are able to give and receive pointers and tipsabout the places we are traveling to. It’s a great community (and another reason why I will be sad toleave).

With our last night in Cambodia, we went out and ate dinneralong the river and enjoyed the people watching that came along with it. There really is a strange mix within PhnomPenh of locals, expats, wealthy, poor, ladyboy, and tourists culture that allworks together to create a really good mix and vibe. I did really enjoy the city, even if we onlyplanned to go there once.

The next morning at the ungodly hour of 7, we were up andready for our bus ride. We were told thebus would leave at 7:30 but didn’t actually end up leaving until 9. But it wasn’t too bad of a bus ride and wewere stopping a little on the way to pick up more people. Our first stop in Laos was Don Det which is apart of the 4000 Islands (Si Pan Don) in the very southern part. It is part of the Mekong River and there areall of these little islands throughout. A few of them are inhabited and some are too small to really beconsidered an island. We went in lowseason so there were plenty of rooms available and we found a pretty affordablebungalow close to the main street. Wehad to take a small boat over to the island and arrived pretty late atnight. One of the things we didn’treally take in to consideration was that Laos has an 11:00 curfew for business,including bars and restaurants. Wearrived at 9 and figured we would have time to organize ourselves. But we ended up rushing through and found anIndian restaurant along the river that was pretty decent.

The next day we rented bikes and rode around the island,through the local area of the island and to the bridge that connected toanother island. It was a pretty decentride. We made plans to meet up with oneof ze Germans in central Laos so we weren’t able to stay long on theisland. The next day we were on a bus upto Tha Kheak for two evenings before we met the German at the border. The whole time the plan was to meet at theborder and then go to Kong Lor Cave, which has been described as the creepiestcave you have ever seen. German wascoming from Vietnam and so we met up earlier than planned and headed to Ban NaHin, the small city that you can base your cave adventure out of. We spent the night there and the next morningwoke up to head out to the cave. Well ourtiming was HORRIBLE and we showed up in the middle of a village celebrationthat essentially shut down the cave. Itwas really our only chance to go there and we had booked our tickets and tripfor the next town already! So after all of that planning and traveling, wedidn’t end up seeing the cave. Weexplored the outside of it but never made it in! Ah! So this just means that I will need tocome back to Laos in the future, which I fully intend on doing because it is awonderful country!

So night bus up to the capital, Vientiane, spent a few dayssight-seeing around there, before heading to Vang Vieng, our Christmasdestination! And oh my, what a Christmas it was! Vang Vieng is an interestingarea. It is basically a co-op offamilies that have decided by making money off of tourists and really boostingtheir economy and education system. Pretty damn cool if you ask me. We went to the tubing area for Christmas and mainly just hung around thefirst bar area and had a wonderful time and met lots of super cool people. The area is a great place to meet others andjust hang out and dance a bit. We spentthe next few days relaxing, tubing, people watching, and meeting people. It was also Mr. Lee’s birthday during thattime and we had a good time just tubing and relaxing. Relaxing from what, I don’t know, but it wasfun nonetheless.

From Vang Vieng, we headed up to Luang Prabang where wewould spend New Year. We stayed at SpicyLaos Backpackers which is another hostel we have been recommended throughoutour travels. And I completely understandwhy, it was a great place to meet others. We went to a waterfall on the day of New Years Eve and it was beautiful.I was a little skeptical of it at first but it turned out to be totally worthit. So beautiful and a little bit of ahike up to the top but great view of the area. Laos is a beautiful country andI would love to come back and explore a lot more. It just looks like a placethat is authentic and true to itself. The people are so incredibly friendly and welcoming. Beautiful people, beautiful country.

We have been hearing about how amazing Laos is sinceArmenia. We met a few backpackers thathave done our trip in the opposite direction and all of them talk about theamazingness of Laos and I see why. It’snot so much what you see or what you do but it is about the atmosphere and thepeople firstly and then secondly what you do and see. I don’t know how else to describe it besidesthe fact that it is more of a feeling than an experience. Hopefully that makes a little sense?

Well that is all from Laos. Except the bus ride from Luang Prabang to the border of Thailand was byfar the WORST bus I have ever taken in my entire life. It was about 17 hours ofpure hell and NEVER again will I take that bus route. And yes, I do plan on visiting Laos again. Itwas amazing!

My winter vacation began just before the new year when I left for Tbilisi with several other Peace Corps volunteers. This was my second trip to the city, though this experience was quite different. We stayed in a rented apartment outside of the city center, which was both cheaper and more comfortable. Our New Year’s [...]

I recently spent 2 weeks in Israel. Here are a few of the highlights in no particular order.

The Western Wall (aka Wailing Wall). This wall is believed to be part of the Second Temple that was built by King Herod in 19 BCE. The Second Temple was destroyed in 70 CE by the Romans.

The Western Wall on Friday at sundown. It was absolutely packed. The fence separates men and women.

This is the spot where it is believed that Jesus' body was prepared for burial after the crucifixion. Everyone was touching it, so I thought it couldn't hurt.

Found this place in Bethlehem. Better than the real thing.

The security barrier separating the West Bank from Israel. Getting back into Israel from the West Bank was crazy: 2 x-ray machines, 3 metal detectors, and a lot of guards with guns.

Baptizing myself in the River Jordan. This is where Jesus was supposedly baptized by John.

This is the olive grove where Jesus was supposedly betrayed by Judas. Carbon dating on some of the trees confirm that the trees are over 2,000 years old.

Shayna and me on the Mount of Olives with the Old City in the background. Immediately behind us are Jewish graves. It has been a gravesite for over 3,000 years and has over 150,000 graves. According to the Bible, those buried on the Mount of Olives will be the first to be resurrected when the messiah comes.

This is the "exact" spot where Jesus was born in Bethlehem. It is located within the Church of the Nativity.

Hummus is legit.

The Dome of the Rock is on the Temple Mount. It was built around the Foundation Stone in 691 CE. The Foundation Stone is the holiest site in Judaism because it is believed to be where the Ark of the Covenant was kept in the Second Temple. For Isalm, it is the spot where Muhammed supposedly ascended to Heaven with the angel Gabriel. It is also supposedly where Abraham prepared to sacrifice his son to God. Non Muslims are not allowed to go inside.

Dome-bowing.

The Damascus Gate. One of the entrances to the Old City of Jerusalem.

Tebowing in the Crusader tunnels in Akko. Akko is a fantastically preserved city in the northern part of Israel.

This is supposedly the spot where Jesus was crucified. It is located within the Church of the Holy Sepulcher in Jerusalem.

Bethlehem street.

The Baha'i Gardens in Haifa are 18 garden terraces around the Shrine of the Bab on Mt. Carmel. The Baha'i Faith is one of the world's youngest religions. It might be the most tolerant religion in the world.

I wonder how many people were tricked into thinking that Armenian "Pizza" is actually good.

We attended an Armenian service at the Cathedral of St. James in Jerusalem. For such a small population in Israel, the Armenian Church has a surprisingly large presence in Jerusalem and Israel.

Akko sea wall facing the Mediterranean.

In most Israeli bars, happy hour means 2 for the price of 1.

Trying to read the Lord's Prayer in Armenian.

Tomb-bowing.

Inside a Crusader fortress in Akko.

We Couchsurfed in Haifa with this awesome family. I think this was the seventh day of Hanukkah.

Best part about Israel: Guinness on tap everywhere.

Evelyn and I have begun our two week adventure around the north of Armenia. Right now we are in Berd hanging out with Caroline, John and Ashley, other PC volunteers. We just finished watching Sister Act 2 so spirits are high…ha. The reason for our trip,besides fun and quality movie choices, is to assist with [...]

Needless to say, this holiday season was a bit different from all my previous ones.  It’s gone by in quite a blur though, to be honest. I think it’s safe to say that the phrase “time flies when you’re having fun” is appropriate here.

For simplicity’s sake, I’ll just go through chronologically. That means the first stop on Kelsey’s Hayastan Holiday Hoe-down begins with American Christmas – the weekend of December 25th.  Conveniently, the Armenian school system has a winter break scheduled that generally starts towards the end of December. This year, it coincided perfectly with when us Americans typically celebrate Christmas. This meant that I could easily travel to visit with other volunteers, sans the guilt of missing school.

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Time & Place

I wake up, a two hour nap. To soft music through the walls Inside another room. The lights on the floor, the fading gray rain Winter light coming down. What time is it?

Dreams dreams, states of here and there. What is the past? I search for you, to make sure you are safe and that you recognize me. Being drawn down the old dirt road, in between two worlds that I know well. All confused, all clear.

Awake now, quiet whispers as the night rises up and says Goodbye to the eve. Always beginning again, perfect timing And indecision. Love of one good thing can be enough.

Sorry, I'm too tired to write a real blog post right now. I just got back from Istanbul and learned that school has been cancelled for the next week, no one seems to know why... Here are some pictures for now and I will save my blog post for later in the week when I am bored out of my mind :)

All of the volunteers from my old village gathered for new years and travelled together to each of our families houses

After New Years, Andy and I went to my current host family's house to celebrate with my neighbors

We hiked to this new church in Noyemberyan, the town closest to my village

We traveled to another town called Dilijan to spend a few days in the mountains

The Blue Mosque in Istanbul

Spice Market

Old Tbilisi

Pedestrian Bridge

Here you have it! Back in Talin, I have completed the sad task of looking back at the photos over the past two weeks, well, first part of it anyways. My camera battery died at the beginning of the week in Mexico and didn’t recharge it until the day I left….awesome, right? Oh well, this [...]

The first guest to my house arrived on a bicycle, and had just finished cascading down the 2483 m high mountain pass from Kapan to Meghri. His large, brown beard was frozen.

I was startled at about 8pm the day he got here by a knock on my door from some of the men in the village. They explained to me, in pretty excited voices, that a man had arrived in the village, that he didn’t know a single word of Armenian, and that I needed to come out and translate. I walked out my front gate to find a very thin, bearded, spectacled man on a bicycle surrounded by 10 to 12 Armenian men from the village, all trying to help/understand him at the same time.

“Hello,” he said to me in clear English when he spotted me. “My name is Sven, are you a Peace Corps Volunteer?”

I told him I was. He said he’d been travelling by bicycle through Armenia and needed a place to stay. He also dropped the names of Austin and Katie, two volunteers he had stayed with in a town about three hours north (by car), and so between his unimposing demeanor and acquaintance with other people I know, I felt just fine taking him in.

I explained to the other men watching us talk that I’d be putting him up for the night, helped Sven put his bike in my storage room, and started heating the water tank so that he could get a hot shower. The first thing he asked for was not food or coffee or tea, but just straight up hot water. I heated some up on the stove and handed it to him. He guzzled it down, sighed, and said something like “you have no idea how nice that is after biking over that mountain.” His beard wasn’t frozen anymore.

I started whipping up a stew with veggies, lentils and potatoes as well as hot coffee for both of us. This was the official first guest at my new place, and I was really feeling the hosting mood. Could be the Armenian culture rubbing off on me…

We got to talking. Sven, it turned out, had been biking non-stop all the way from his home in Germany. He had crossed through the Czech Republic, the Balkans, Turkey, Georgia, and was now entering Iran through Armenia. His ultimate goal was to reach India, and he claimed with confidence that he would even be biking through Pakistan to do it. He had stayed with at least three other volunteers on the journey in Armenia and Georgia, and likely some other ones in the Balkans too.

Sven was 31 years old, was taller than me, leaner than me, was extremely talkative, had a huge smile and the air of someone who had been alone with only his thoughts for perhaps a bit too long (although this probably had been one of his goals anyway). He said he had worked for an IT firm, crunching data for several years, until he one day had the revelation that what he did was pointless and decided that traveling the world on a bicycle would be much more fulfilling. The people in my village told me later that they thought he was insane. I kind of admired him in a way, if only because I would never have the nerve to do what he was doing.

His first night at my place, after we feasted on stew and black bread and Armenian matsun, he slept on the extra bed in my living room, which, unlike my bedroom, has no wood burning stove and is only heated by a small PC issued radiator that hardly does anything. I felt sort of bad about this, but he said he didn’t mind at all, and that in his sleeping bag had slept in far more frigid conditions.

In the morning, after breakfast, Sven asked if he could stay a second night. I had kind of figured he would want to, and was happy to have him an extra night. He carried his weight just by being good company, and to top it off when I got home from teaching English that day, it was to the smell of a huge pot of borscht that he was cooking up. Turns out he was also an awesome cook. That night was spent eating more borscht, playing speed (a card game I hadn’t played in forever), and playing harmonicas (I have one I brought to country and hardly ever use and Sven travels with one as well).

When he left the next morning, it was kind of a funny feeling. I can’t say I’ll miss him. I only knew him for about 48 hours, but it was nice to have the company. Also, it’s a pretty certain bet that I’ll never see the guy again. We shook hands and he cycled away again, leaving early so that he could make it over the mountain pass just over the Iranian border before nightfall.

While my current occupation is sort of that of a wanderer, I still live and work in this country. I have other Americans living and working near me and I live in a community where I see the same people every day and am recognized. It takes a lot of willpower for sure, but to do what Sven is doing is another level of wanderlust altogether. To go it alone, without planned places to stay or knowing any of the language or people to meet, to be very often dependent on the kindness of strangers and also very often alone with just you and nature, that takes willpower and then something else too.

It’s the ultimate goal of just about all of us expat volunteer/worker types – to become fluent in the language, the culture and the very spirit of the place. To know and be known by everyone you see, to be respected in the community you live in and perhaps most importantly to have people from the host country that you can truly consider family. I’m not fully integrated, at least I wouldn’t say I am, but I am starting to feel more and more at home around here.

While visiting my training village, Nurnus, over a break recently, my host father from last summer, Andranik, gave a toast (one of many) exclaiming: “Menk ko arrachin hai untanik enk,” – We are your first Armenian Family. This is very true, and something I won’t ever forget. They were the first Armenian family I got to know and lived with, and also the first people to care for me in this country. By “caring for me,” I mean really mean caring for me. Over the summer, they did everything from doing my laundry for me and making all of my meals to putting homemade yogurt on my sunburnt arms (an apparently common Armenia remedy) and during my first few weeks there even cutting my own food for me during dinner time. Most of all they made me feel like I was part of their family. Unfortunately, they are also far away from where I live and work now – a good 9 hours by crowded minibus or taxi over mountainous and outrageously bumpy roads.

On my way home from break, I was retelling what Andranik said during this toast to Hrach, my landlord and friend, as we were travelling on the way to my village. I was travelling back south, and he needed to stop by there and gather his dried persimmons, or “chir,” that he had stored there at a relative’s house, so he gave me a ride. Also in the car were his wife, Anahit and 5 year old son, Mikael. He paused when I retold the story, chuckled a second, and then said “We are your third Armenian Family, then (including of course the family I lived with before I got my own place in the village).

Once I arrived in my village with Hrach and his family, I had, for the first time, a sensation of this village really being my home, and of being happy to be back. It had been a mildly long break filled with conferences and seminars with the Peace Corps staff and other volunteers, and I had honestly missed the place a bit. I stopped into my neighbor Karen’s house, whom I had left the keys to my house with, and he immediately uttered “Ari hats enk utum,” or basically “come over here we are eating” (a favorite phrase in Armenian households). I joined Karen and his family at the table, ate an odd oniony dish I hadn’t tried before and which I forget the name of, and had an obligatory toast or two with them as well. After this I stopped over at my friend Artak’s store. Artak, who is 22 years old and has recently finished serving in the Armenian army, has a roadside store where he buys and sells everything from beer and cigarettes, to dried fruit and walnuts, to gasoline. He’s a good guy, and also knows lots of people traveling to and from the area that stop at his store and so can sometimes hook me up with a ride heading north. I popped in to say hi, had a couple cups of coffee with him, and ended up going home with a plastic bottle filled with oil that he gave to me for free for starting fires in my wood-burning stove.

I got home, started myself a fire to warm the place up, brewed some tea and kicked back. I’ve already been living here in this village for four and a half months and I can hardly believe it.

It is official I am in my new place! I took some photos so you can see its current state. I hung up some pictures, lit some candles and most importantly turned on the space heaters…brrrr. I think I am going to ask my landlord if I can get a gas heater. It is cold. [...]

Yes! On December 1st, I will moving into a high rise, 1 bedroom apartment complete with a balcony here in Talin. It overlooks the square and the 7th century church. To give you a better idea of what the apartment is really like here is the list of items that need to be fixed by [...]

#1 – Here is a picture of my host family with my cousin Moosheg after his police ceremony. #2 – This is the few from the floor where Emil and I sat and watched Armenia lose to Ireland, also diminishing there hopes to qualify for the Euro 2012 cup. Sad, but the snacks were great! [...]

#1 – Onions! Yes, that is 40 kilos of them friends. All in the name of canning for winter. #2 – Here is a view of the auditorium in the music school from the grand piano. I am hoping to be able to work with the school in purchasing new instruments and planning concerts. Right [...]

Ok, so that is not what happened, but I did manage to experience both this past week. A week ago, I met two other volunteers Jack and Ed to hike up Mt. Aragots, the tallest peak in Armenia. It wasn’t completely successful as all three of us didn’t make it to the top but we [...]

#1: Last week I took a walk to the WorldVision Talin office. It is about a 15 minute walk, which in Talin standards is equivalent to running an IronMan. Yes, I am awesome. This is a picture of Hayk (one the WorldVision employees) and I in front of his truck. It is noteworthy because it [...]

#1 – Mane showing off one of her many talents at the dinner table on Chimichanga night….mmm #2 – enjoying the first bites…abuelos is better, but definitely the best mexican in Talin is at 12 Gayi Street! #3 – Last week my host dad and I took a trip to Ashtarak (the capital of the [...]