I think that the longer I live in Armenia the more difficult it becomes to blog. It’s hard to write about the culture when it has sort of melded into your culture. Or to say the very least you have just become so accustomed to it. So like most Armenians in Spitak, I can only really talk about the changing weather!!! While I think of something to blog about, I want to share some pictures of the biggest snow storm I have ever seen in my life!! Please keep in mind I am from California so a foot and a half of snow falling in one day is huge to me!!! In fact this morning while drinking my cup of hykakan serj (Armenian coffee), I looked out the window and was alarmed to see the amount of snow falling. I thought to myself, there is no way that we could possibly have school today with all this snow. It’s pretty frigged in the classrooms when it isn’t blustering outside so I couldn’t imagine any of the kids would come to school in this kind of weather. I sent a text to my counterpart asking her if school would be canceled and waited for her response, hoping for a day of relaxation and a good book. But no, there are no snow days in Spitak, the town’s moniker means white, so I guess snow isn’t something that prohibits much from happening around here. I can only imagined how she laughed at my wishful thinking, thinking what a silly American I am for thinking a foot of snow is such a scary site. So I layered up, more so than usual, and trudged my way to class in the snow. On the plus side, one day I will be able to tell my kids, “quit whining, back in my day, I used to walk to school in the snow, uphill both ways” just as my dad used to tell me, but I will only be partially lying, because of course I only walk up the hill one way!

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

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 ;)

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.

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!!

… A short story…Yesterday my mom sent me an email telling me about how my dog Lucca back in California spent Christmas and how she opened her presents and loved her new toys and as I was reading the email I thought oh yeah, maybe I should have gotten Sophie a small toy or something. But being that I have absolutely no money right now as most of it was stolen during a Christmas play at school where I left my bag unattended, presents had been the last thing on my mind… I honestly didn’t buy a single Christmas present this year. Later in the day I got all bundled up and walked to the small hanoot that is close to my apartment. I always go to this same hanoot and buy the same things bread, sour cream, cellphone rechargeable minutes; just small things that I tend to forget to buy at the big grocery store. There are two ladies that own, or at least operate the small store and they are always so friendly with me, and they think Sophie is just the funniest thing in the world. They like to talk to her as if she is a person, and they get rather annoyed when customers are afraid of her. They tell people, she is just a small little dog, she doesn’t harm anything. So basically I love these women! So anyways on this day I ran to the store to get some cell phone minutes and as I was buying them I saw a row of stuffed dragons on the shelf. I didn’t even notice but I most have been staring, because the lady asked me aren’t they nice and explained to me that this upcoming year was the year of the dragon. I asked her how much they were and she told me 1000 dram. As I said I was really broke and didn’t have 1,000 dram to spend, so I said yes they are nice and began to walk away. She stopped me and asked me what color I liked. I told her it didn’t matter it was just for Sophie I was thinking about buying it for. She began to laugh at me as if I was joking with her. You want to buy Sophie a New Years Eve present she asked me, as if I was crazy. Of course I told them, she is my little baby, she needs a present. It is a dog; it won’t even know that it is a present she told me. Oh yes she will I told them, dogs love presents. They told me they didn’t believe me. So I called Sophie over and asked her if she wanted a toy, she happens to know the word toy, and she began to spin in circles. They were so surprised and thought it was cute but weren’t so convinced. So the lady handed me a small red dragon. I took the small toy and told Sophie, look Sophie it’s your new toy as I showed it to her. She stood up on her hind legs and grabbed it from me in her mouth and ran to the rug in the store and began to chew it. The ladies squealed with delight. She is like a child in a dog’s body they told me! It doesn’t seem like much at all, but I love moments like these. Moments that I can teach Armenians that animals are sweet and have feelings and emotions. People here honestly don’t know the depth of what animals think and feel and so they kick them and beat them as they walk by because they are afraid of them. I love every opportunity I get to show them differently and to prove to them that animals are awesome and cute and very loving when you don’t beat them…

I am always trying to teach my kids the difference betweenparts of speech… something that is often overlooked when teaching foreign language.I think that understanding the structure of a language makes it much eaiser tothink in that language; at least that is how I began to really learn Armenian. Anotherone of my goals has been to introduce more projects into the class room. Mystudents love projects! They love when I give them a long term project thatthey will have to present to the class, it makes them excited about class.Which is a switch from American students who groan when a teacher announces anew project. So from these goals came the idea for an excellent projectthat I called Noun Town!! This was a three part lesson. The first part of thelesson students got into two groups and wrote all the people, places and thingsthat a town would need to run. My fifth grade class really ran away with thispart. One of the groups came up with 150 words!! Remember this is their 3rdlanguage, and they have only been studying it for 2 years! So it was reallyfantastic to see such excitement. This is also my class that loves competitionso it was really fun just to sit back and watch them try to steal words fromeach other and sneak peeks at the other’s list. My student Romela who by far isthe brain in the class but also the calm shy quiet girl burst into an angrytirade when she caught a boy from the other team trying to look at her list. Inthe middle of class she yelled out I will murder you if you come any closer.The whole class was taken aback because it’s just so uncharacteristic of her…though I have to say English class does bring out the cutthroat in her!

The second part of the class the students had to draw apicture of their town and label it. Everything had to be on one small posterboard, but the catch was that whatever they put on the poster board they wouldhave to remember because they would have to present it as a group and be ableto answer questions. The kids really loved this part. They all worked togetherso well making pictures and studying the new words. Finally they had to presentthe project to the class. Each presentation was about three minutes long… whichis a lot of English for them to be speaking!!! They had to tell me what theirnoun town has and who works at the various places. I have posted the video ofmy 5th grades presentations on my youtube channel… it’s really cuteto watch them! My sixth grade class also did this project but 5thgrade just blew them out of the water with the depth of their projects…. Thebest part is hearing them correct each other and showing them what the otherteam was missing. You know your students are very involved in a project whenthey come up to you during the day and say Miss Alyssa the other team doesn’thave a bus station in their town, they can’t go anywhere!! So anyways we had avery exciting week in my classes and the winner of the presentations got stickersin their books as well as homemade cookies by their very own, Miss Alyssa! Icouldn’t have been more pleased with this project and with my students!!!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4kOTfogn0_E&feature=related

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hj_OCwu3OmU&feature=related

Last week I had to take a sick day from school, which I hate to do because I know a lot of the other teachers are sick as well and they don’t take the day off… But I remind myself that they too would take the day off if they weren’t getting paid for the day anyways… But none the less I feel guilty whenever I am sick so I had to do something to counterbalance it…. So I spent the only hours I was awake making a game for my third grade class. I basically structured it off of Candyland… I created areas of the board with seasons starting off in winter working your way autumn where home is… So today my kids actually got to play the game and they had so much fun!!! I separated them into two teams, each team would send a player up (taking turns of course) to spin the spinner, it would land on a color and they would get a word from that category, such as long E’s or Angry E’s or whatever lesson they had learned already in the book, if they read the word correctly they could move to the color that they spun… of course I added some tricks to the board, such as a go back two squares or go to the next purple… there is even a space on the board where the whole team gets a sticker if they get the question right!!! It’s funny because this kind of format for a game would be very familiar for American children, but my children were absolutely amazed. One of my favorite students Ramzik spun the spinner and it landed on lose a turn. I told him he had to sit down and couldn’t answer a question… his face was so precious, he looked like he was going to cry… my counterpart explained in Armenian that he landed on the spot that meant he would lose his turn, but he still looked so confused!!! It was adorable!! And of course the best part for me as a teacher was when the winners got to the home square and all started jumping up and down, pumping their fist in the air!! I love to see my kids having fun as they are learning!! I love when they ask me if they can play this game every day!! It makes me so proud to be a teacher!!!

This morning I took a half hour or so to meditate on all thethings I have to be grateful for and trust me there were a lot!!! I could list hundreds,but this Thanksgiving I am most thankful for my Armenian friends. When I firstcame to Armenia I quickly bonded with a group of Peace Corps volunteersfiguring that throughout the next two years they would be the people that Iturned to. All during training we were inseparable, going to the nearest townto watch football games and drink beers, and calling each other when we werestuck in the village, and that is almost how we felt, that we were stuck inplaces when we were not with our American friends.

When I first got to my site, I was the only American forthirty minutes around. I would walk through the streets of Spitak trying tosmile at people and make friends, basically to be ignored. I remember hatingSpitak, thinking I would never make friends here, and leaving my site the firstchance I got to see my American friends. I bonded with my host brother a lot,but could barely talk to him, and other than that I didn’t know anyone otherthan my counterpart who could speak English. I would often have tea and cookiesor fruit at a neighbor’s house or a fellow teacher, but it never felt as ifthey were my friends, it felt more like I was being interviewed and was onstage, everyone just staring at me, and me doing my best to speak intelligible Armenian.I would like to say that this quickly passed and soon I made some good friends,but it isn’t the case. It isn’t until the beginning of last summer that Ifinally began to make some true Armenian friends here. I think living in my ownapartment really speed up the process because I was forced to do everything onmy own which often meant that I needed help and had to find people to help me.This has resulted in me actually trying to talk to people instead of shyingaway from them because my language skills were so horrible. Soon I becamefriends with my neighbors, and store owners and random people in the street whowould offer to help me when they thought I looked lost. I also became facebook friends with many of the people inSpitak who speak English, and in this way they send me encouragement and alsohelp me when they see that I am in distress. If I need apricot jam, and writeon facebook that I am looking for it, they all rush to help me find it. If thewater is not working and I have no idea why, I merely have to write to them andask what is going on, whereas before I was stuck trying to walk around myapartment complex hoping a neighbor would come out and talk to me so that Icould ask what the matter was… The biggest surprise for me is that throughout my service,it hasn’t been that core group of Peace Corps volunteers that I have come todepend on for emotional support, it has been the Armenian friends that I havemade in Spitak and in Yerevan. Now when I want to get away for a weekend andget out of Spitak, I run to my closest group of friends in Yerevan who happento be Armenians, not Americans. I never thought this would happen, and I don’tthink it is the case with most Peace Corps volunteers. But for me it really hitme when I was discussing my plans to go home for a short two week vacation. Mybest friend here in Spitak wanted to know how I was getting to the airport. Itold him I would take the marshutka and then take a taxi. He immediately wantedto know everything about my flight and told me there was no way he would let mego to the airport alone, so he took me, but best of all he was waiting for mewhen I got off the plane to bring me back home. I can’t tell you how loved andcared for that made me feel!! So for me I can truly say the people I love mosthere in Armenia are Armenians, and I am so blessed to have made so manyfantastic friends, who I will remain friends with for the rest of my life. This thanksgiving I give thanks to God for allof the amazing people he has put in my life here in Armenia, because I knowwithout them, this would never have become my home!

But that isn’t to say that I don’t equally love my Americanfriends!!! I re-read this post and I want to make it clear, my American,European, and wherever else friends are just as amazing, and have also clearlybeen a huge support to me throughout this journey, but for whatever reason, Ijust felt the most thankful to my Armenian friends today, maybe because it hastaken me by surprise how much I have come to love them, need them and turn tothem, though our cultures are very different!! And now I am off to spend the rest of Thanksgiving having a small feast with my best Armenian friend from Spitak! A first Thanksgiving for them!!! =)

Thanksgiving, the time of year we give thanks for all thingsbig and small that contribute to a happy, healthy life… and the time where youstuff your face!!! Thanksgiving has always been my absolute favorite holiday!There is nothing better to me than a holiday where you cook together as afamily and then eat together, not that this was rare in my family because itwasn’t, but Thanksgiving was always just so special… maybe it’s the turkey, Ido looooove turkey!! But I have to admit yesterday while trying to think ofThanksgiving lesson plans to share with my class, I wasn’t so enthusiastic… Ibasically did everything but make my lesson plan, including making a huge,larger than life Candy Land style game board for my third graders (more on thislater)… But finally I found a good short reading for my students to do aboutthe history and traditions of Thanksgiving, vocabulary words about Thanksgiving(can you say feast?!?! Great vocab word), and an activity where they themselveswould list the things they are grateful for this year. Usually with anyactivity I try to make an example for my students, but as I said, my heart justwasn’t in it for some reason…

So today in class I introduced the lesson by telling thestudents that Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday and telling them why I loveit so much. We then did our reading, but mostly the kids tuned it out, even mygood students… I really couldn’t understand it. I tried to ask engaging questions,and comprehension check questions, but really they wanted nothing to do with it…So I went right ahead to the activity, even though it was a writing activity,it was only making a list, I thought it would be easy for my students. I mean Iam talking about my 11th and 9th grade classes, makinglists should be no problem. After walking around the classroom in frustration Ilistened to the complaints of the students and was shocked at what I heard. “We have nothing to be thankful for”… What?!?!? I couldn’tbelieve it. I looked at my students and asked them, how is possible that youhave nothing to be thankful for… Some rolled their eyes and shut me out, some madecomments like I am an American so I don’t understand, but a few students daredto tell me their thoughts. They told me that they have nothing in this country,every day is the same, they are poor and life is very hard with no hopes ofgetting easier so they feel that they have nothing to be thankful for…. I thought about it for a minute and then tried to explain tothem that thanksgiving isn’t about being rich or being thankful because life iseasy, the pilgrims in fact were thankful for merely surviving the winter (somethingI now can relate to). I looked at one of my students who was wearing a newjacket. I asked him who bought the jacket for him, and he replied his motherdid. I then told him, well if you have no money but your mother thanks whatlittle money she has to buy a jacket for you, aren’t you thankful for having agood mother?? I saw a bit of light go off in his head, well yes of course hetells me. Well, see you have something to be thankful for then… So he returnedthat with a question to me: what are you thankful for Miss Alyssa…. The oneanswer that came to my head at the moment was that I was thankful for growingup with parents who always made sacrifices to keep me fed and clothed and goingto dances and playing volleyball. I explained that I too grew up very poor andmy father didn’t always know where he was going to get money to feed us with. Idon’t think many of the students believed me though; to them it seemsimpossible that an American could grow up poor. But I guess that gives meanother reason to be thankful that I am here in Armenia, there are manymisconceptions about Americans in the world, that we are all rich and selfish,and every day I live my life trying to show Armenians that there are all kindsof Americans, and I for one happen to have lived a very different life from theone that they stero-type. Sometimes I get very caught up in my job to teach mystudents English, that I don’t take the time to share my culture with them andtoday I realized that it is my job to do both, to teach English but also toteach them who Americans are, even if it means I need to take some classroomtime to do it.

So today I am thankful that my students woke me up out of mydiscontented content and made me realize that I have much to be thankful forand a lot to do before I leave… I will say that one girl did stand up and saythat she was thankful for her teacher Miss Alyssa who gave her opportunitiesthat she never had before and because of me she was able to attend GLOW Camp, acamp that teaches young women about women’s issues but that is also a lot offun too. This warmed my cold little heart right up and gave me another reasonto be thankful… I am doing a job a love and teaching some of the best studentsI could ever imagine… I am so thankful to be in Armenia, in Spitak, serving asa representative of my country… I only hope that my work here will be usefuland remembered for a long time after I have left!!!I have many many many more reasons to be thankful, thoughlife has come with many difficulties I have learned to see the good and gained strengthin learning to overcome those difficulties. Once again to my American friends,be thankful that you were born American, in a country where we are given great opportunitiesand freedoms. I know that life looks tough now, but we still all have so muchto be grateful for. Happy Thanksgiving!!

Winter has hit Spitak in full force!!! For the first time inmy life I had snow on my birthday!!! It is so cold here that it’s pretty much unbearable!! Part of it might be that I have justcome from warm sunny California, so I have had to make a huge adjustment… butthe other part is that it is just really cold!! This is the one time when Ijust wish I could go home… Last year I fared so much better, but that wasbecause the snow didn’t come until January first. Snow in November is just too much for thisgirl! To make matters worse I went to my sitemate Judith’s home last week andboy was it warm… I mean the kind of warm I can only dream about right now. Shehas a gas heater and it works so well!! I can walk around her house without ajacket. I only have my Peace Corps heater so I pretty much have to sit on topof it and not move!!! Even Sophie is cold, she has been snuggling under theblankets at night instead f sleeping on top of them as she usually does… A lot of Peace Corps volunteers say that Peace Corps inEastern Europe is the posh corps… and maybe in a lot of ways that is true, mostof us do have things that a lot of volunteers in more remote regions don’t have,such as a steady internet connection. Hell the Bulgarian volunteers I met evenhave washing machines. But when winter comes and its 10 below, and we havelittle heating, have to walk everywhere in the snow, and have no sunlight for a6 month chunk of the year, we struggle. I mean have you ever tried to hand washcloths with freezing cold water?? Your hands hurt so bad sometimes to the pointthat they crack and bleed… There have been times I have left my cloths in abucket to line dry the next day and have woken up to them frozen… There is alsothe fact that I get home around 3 in the afternoon and after that, there isnothing I can do but snuggle in a blanket and try to keep warm… I can’t eventake Sophie out for walks and socialize because It is just too cold… Seasonaldepression is huge in Eastern European countries. I mean wouldn’t you bedepressed if every day you went to work, and came home and had nothing else tolook forward to? You can’t really travel like you do in the other seasonsbecause roads are snowed in and marshutkas are pretty wobbly in the snow whichmakes you fear for your life a little. So basically you travel on a need base,you see only the people in your town, and only really between you walking towhere you need to get and back…. To say the least, I hate winter hereespecially now that it has come super early. I mean we had spitak until May oflast year… November till May covered in snow??? Ugh no Thanks!Ok done ranting, and now for a funny story… The cycle ofweather goes a little something like this in Spitak right now, snow falling,snow on the ground but a clear sky, snow on the ground but its mostly icey andthe sludge… and it rotates every few days… So one day I decided to take Sophiefor a walk as she has been getting some winter time blues because she can’t goout and run anymore. So we were walking home from the grocery store in thecenter of spitak, her on the leash following behind me a little bit. I am notpaying too much attention to her or the surroundings because I am constantlywatching my feet so that I do not slip on the ice. Well as I am looking on the groundtip towing around Sophie see’s a bird or something, I never really saw what itwas, and takes off running. I have her leash wrapped around my hand a good 3 times,because when I have groceries in my hands I like to make sure I have a goodhold on her. So she takes off running and I am attached to her walking on ice.I feel my legs begin to lurch forward as my torso leans backward. I try to digmy heels into the ground, but it’s slippery and I fall. But to make thingsworse as I fall down, my natural momentum pulls Sophie back toward me. Shestops for a second and looks at me and then continues to run, dragging me onthe ice behind her… We didn’t go far thank God, but we went far enough forpeople to see and to laugh. I mean they were concerned but the site of theAmerican with her huge ole snow boots and tons of grocery bags in hand beingpulled across the street by a tiny little dog must have been irresistible, Imean I giggle just thinking of it so I don’t blame them!! Luckily I wasn’t hurt,my groceries broke my fall!!! If only Icould get the hang of walking on the ice… It’s only been three weeks of snowand I have fallen three times… once a week. At this rate I am going to need towalk with pillows wrapped around my body!!!

Going back to American has been a total mind fuck for me, sorry for the language but I seriously can’t think of anything else to describe it…. I knew when I joined the Peace Corps that I would be here in Armenia for 2 years and 3 months. Never did I think that during that time I would make my way back to America, nor did I want to. Not because I don’t love my family or miss them, but actually precisely because I do! I knew that going back would put me back into the American mindset, get me used to being around my family, and make it extremely difficult to continue my life here in Armenia. But my brother got married, so what choice did I have? And while I am so happy to have been able to spend time with my family and friends who I love and have missed so much, it has made returning to Armenia very difficult for me. People always speak about reverse culture shock, that you will go back home and see it differently, and be a bit shell shocked by it. I never really truly believed in this, I mean I lived 26 years in America and only a year and a half in Armenia, so how can I feel odd in the place I spent most my life in??? Well I am not sure if I experienced reverse culture shock, but there were things that I just couldn’t get over! First and foremost America has really changed, especially with technology. Every single person has a smart phone now, and tons of people have IPads. When I left, iPhones were all the craze, but most people didn’t own one. While at church the pastor told us to take out our bibles or our electronic devices… I looked around to see if he was serious. I must have looked pretty confused as I saw people pulling out iPads and their smart phones to look up the bible verse, because my sister took her hand to my face and put my jaw back into place… I just couldn’t believe he was serious!!! Also while at church I couldn’t help but to be amazed at how tall Americans are. I have always known I am short and most are taller than me, but I never truly saw how tall our people are until my return. I guess living in a country where I have never once felt short, distorts your perception a bit. All I could do was scan the floor to see if the women were wearing heals, which they weren’t. I couldn’t understand how everyone could be so big!!! Church was really the most confusing experience I had all together. At church people of course smile a lot! As we were leaving the church people would smile as they walked by me and all I could think of was do I know that person? Why is she smiling at me? This brought me back to my first few months in Armenia, I would smile and say hello to everyone, and they would look at me confused or with disdain. I would think to myself how rude they were and want to go home and cry about it. I remember telling my mom, no one here wants to be my friend!! Now it’s just natural to me, if you don’t know someone you don’t talk to them or smile at them… how quickly I let go of my American ways!! There were tons of small things here and there that took some getting used to again. For example while I was at a Starbucks a man stood behind me as if I was in line, though I wasn’t. So instead of me telling him oh I am not in line, I directed him to the line with my hands. I touched him. He looked back at me as if I had just made a pass at him, huge smile on his face, but I couldn’t figure out why until my mom told me, well you touched him… Americans enjoy personal space. Once again somewhere along the way a habit that I hated when I came here has become my nature. I didn’t even realize I got used to it, as I still hate when people touch me here!! I also stared at people as if they were aliens, something I hate when people do to me here, but I couldn’t stop myself back home. One guy was all tatted up and pretty scary- looking, so my eyes were just drawn to him. I kept thinking what the hell did he do to himself as I stared at the tattoo going across his eyes! He turned and gave me a dirty look, and I wasn’t even fazed, I kept staring. My mom gently reminded me that things like that can get you shot in LA… oh yeah... I don’t really feel that this accounts for culture shock, because all of these things I knew somewhere inside of me, it’s more that I just forgot them and had to readjust to them. Things that I couldn’t readjust to when I got home included American’s love of mean tabloids, something I use to enjoy reading. Now it just seems so cruel and evil to me. It disgusted me to see them lined up in the grocery stores. Also our obsession with weight, especially in Los Angeles. Most girls gain about 10 pounds in the Peace Corps while the men lose about 20, something about the way we handle stress, and I am no different. But I have never felt overweight in Armenia. I knew I had gained weight but I didn’t really feel like it made a difference. All of a sudden back in LA all I could think about was my weight. I don’t know why or how it automatically switched back to that mentality, but it was scary to me. Everything is weight centered in Los Angeles, even at the supermarket you are flooded with diet products which are basically telling you be careful about what you eat or you will be fat, and fat is ugly. Armenians don’t feel that fat is ugly. Sure there are girls with eating disorders here that strive to be skinner, but women here come in all sizes and shapes and the general view is a pretty girl is pretty no matter how much she weighs… Looking through magazines was the most shocking thing to me. Not a single girl looked normal to my eyes. They were all sooo skinny. I really could not get over it, and talked about it to the point where my family was pretty sick of hearing it, but it really just got to me. One of the most surprising things that I discovered while back home was just how much I identify with the Armenian culture now. A number of times I caught myself explaining, “my culture” to people, as if I were truly Armenian! I longed to meet Armenians and speak to them in Armenian, and to listen to Armenian music and to share the Armenian culture with my family and friends. I wanted to shake people and tell them no listen to me, learn about my country, ask me questions and I will tell you how amazing it is, but for the most part no one really wanted to listen. It was difficult to see that no one really cares about this different life I live over here, they kind of just expect you to be the old you, but how can you be?? Every time I would hear someone complain about life, I wanted to tell them why they should be happy to be American, and about how difficult life is for the Armenians. One of the happiest moments I had back home was while shopping at a jewelry store I looked up and noticed the man had a bunch of evil eyes hanging over the cash register. I looked at him and immediately knew he was Armenian. I asked him if he was and we just erupted into conversation. He couldn’t believe that I lived in Armenia and that I could speak the language. He called his grandfather and sister over and we all just began talking about Armenia with such joy. My mom and cousin stood by probably pretty confused as the whole conversation was in Armenian. I have never really had confidence in my Armenian skills because though I know the language and understand it, people here have a hard time understanding me, but this couldn’t be further from the truth in L.A. They understood everything I said, and even complimented my accent. I think that they learn Armenian out of Armenia and speak it with an American accent so they have the same ear for it that I have which makes pronunciation difficult. Anyways, suddenly a ten minute trip turned into 2 hours and I couldn’t have been happier just to spend my time with them talking about the old country =) Armenia has really become a part of my soul, and I indentify with her and her people in so many ways, but somehow all of this was intensified while back home. I am so thankful for this experience that the United States government has given me. I am so thankful for the Peace Corps for selecting me to be an ambassador of my country to the Armenian people, but also for allowing me to give a voice and a face to the Armenian people for Americans. I am really very blessed to be where I am doing what I am doing, which going to America only reaffirmed for me. Sure I miss having hot water at my fingertips, (really I miss it quite a bit) or having a heater that actually keeps me warm, but coming back to Armenia and having a Armenian best friend greet me at the airport, a school who rejoiced in my return on my first day back rushing to hug and kiss me and tell me how beautiful I got again (yes implying that I was ugly for awhile here), and people in the streets of Spitak calling out bari galust to me (welcome) is second to no other experience in the world and I couldn’t be happier to be back and to complete my service.

This year I have been trying to mix up some things in class and restructure what we expect from the students… this has included assigning a lot more assignments. But in my first year of teaching I learned that students may hate to do exercises but if you give them a fun assignment more often then not, they actually enjoy doing the assignment. So at the beginning of the school year I sat down and made a list of goals for each of my classes. For example for my 5th grade class my goals were to have 10 minutes of pupil to pupil speaking each class and to give them one project every two weeks. My 11th grade class has to give one 3 minute presentation every 3 weeks on different subjects. It sounds like pretty standard stuff for most Americans, but let me tell you this is not standard for the English classes here. Mostly the students are given written exercises and poems to memorize and that is all. So one of the interesting classes I taught this week was for my 11th graders. I began the class with a recipe for hot cocoa. They had to read it and tell me what it was and what it was for. Pretty easy. We then spoke about what words we knew for cooking, reviewing some words but adding some 20 new words for them to learn. I told them it was very important for them to learn the new words because they would have a test of sorts… so at the end of class I split them into groups and gave each group a recipe for a different type of cookies. I told them their assignment was to bake the cookies in groups and bring them to the next class. Of course the girls were so happy!! They thought it was the best assignment ever!! The boys at first were happy too asking “we will eat cookies on Monday?” I laughed and told them they can only eat cookies if they bake them! Of course this brought on a huge debate. The boys told me how Armenian men don’t cook and how it’s humiliating to have to cook. I laughed at them and told them that it would be fine, they could all get a zero in the grade book for the assignment. To be honest some were perfectly fine with that, but one of my best students is male and the only good grade he gets in school is for English, so he was not happy. He debated back and forth with me how he couldn’t bake. I told him he didn’t have to do it alone, he would have a group and girls would help him. The boys pouted some but then one bright boy realized this would mean he could go and hang out with his beautiful classmates. I could see the bell go off in his head. I will help, Miss Alyssa he tells me. He turns to the girls and tells them that his family has a chicken farm and he can bring the eggs, so who would like to have him in their group. Well once the boys saw him step forward they all wanted to be in a group and this soon became the best assignment they have ever received. I have to say I am looking forward to eating cookies on Monday!! Another fun thing we did in class this week was a spelling bee. The ministry of education in Armenia now requires that we test our students in dictation, something my counterpart never does. She told me that she would like to work on dictations and so she wrote the paragraph on the board for the students. This of course prompted an argument between us, as I pointed out that they wouldn’t learn just by memorizing. She told me that they cannot write and they cannot spell so she has to do it this way. I sulked for about an hour and then I had an idea. We could give them the words in the dictation as spelling words, and make a spelling bee out of it. This way we can be sure they know all the words, but they will also have to use listening skills. I have to say she became very excited for it and so were the kids. We gave them the words and told them that we would have a spelling bee and so they should practice the words. The next day in my 4th and 5th grade classes we had a spelling bee. It was a lot of fun! My children love competition and they especially love to earn new stickers in the sticker book!! It was fun to watch them stand before the class and spell words. It allowed for students who are weak in other areas and usually don’t shine in English to shine a bit. The funniest thing was that in my fourth grade class the third word I chose ended up knocking out half the students. The point was to start with easy words and work up to difficult ones, but apparently all is a very difficult word to spell for TEFL learners!! Some of my best students got knocked out!!! I love that I have the opportunity to see a problem and find a creative way to fix it. I am not saying all my students wrote fantastic dictations, but you know what for the most part they were pretty impressive. Spelling is difficult even for English speakers!! Now if I could just get my two problem classes up to a level where we can do fun activities, I would be the happiest teacher in the world!! For whatever reason my 6th grade class just cannot focus this year and refuse to speak any English. My goal for them was to give a book report a month but it seems impossible because they cannot speak about what they read!! And then there is my 9th grade class that are just monsters, I cannot even hear myself speak in that class… One step at a time =)

Last school year I had the pleasure of nominating 3 very strong, smart, outspoken and passionate young women to attend Armenia’s GLOW camp. GLOW stands for Girls Leading Our World, and is a Peace Corps initiative camp that teaches women to be leaders and to talk about challenging topics. I was beyond excited to see that not only one of my students was selected to attend the camp, but all three. The week of GLOW camp I received text messages from fellow Peace Corps volunteers informing me that my girls were amazing and perfect selections for the camp. I burned with pride, not because I felt that their characters were in any part my doing, but because in just a year I had watched them grow and knew that they would come back from this experience changed for life. And I was right, my girls came back from GLOW camp excited about life, ready to face new challenges, and ready to share what they learned with their peers. I talked to the girls about what they learned, and with a relentless passion they discussed issues such as HIV in Armenia, women’s rights, trafficking and education. They had learned so much but now they were in the position that they wanted to learn more, but none of these topics are discussed nor taught about in Spitak. We live in a conservative town, where most, not all, but most women marry young, have children and struggle to help support their family. Women are only beginning to see that they have other options. They know of course that they can teach, as nearly all teachers are women, but they are beginning to see that they don’t have to rely on a husband. Spitak has at least two women police officers, sure it is uncommon and often I hear other women complaining about them, but they of course have opened the door for girls to think outside the box. Many of my female students express the desire to be doctors, though they tell me that they are afraid no man will marry a doctor because she will make more money than him… so as you can see Armenia is in a time of change. After spending my summer talking to these students and other young girls who frequently would come and sit on my porch and spill their hearts out to me, I became very passionate about founding a young women’s club in Spitak. A place where they can learn, discuss, and debate important issues facing young Armenian women. A place where they can learn about career and university options, and find mentors to help them along the way. As I thought about what I wanted to do with my final year in the Peace Corps I decided that I must work with the YMCA on this project. I contacted them and was happy to learn that they two had been thinking of this subject and that they loved my ideas and wanted to work with me. We held a meeting where we discussed the club, the setback that we would face, the sensitivity of the subject and the opportunity at hand. I told the YMCA about my three students that had learned so much about women’s issues and suggested that they attend our next meeting. It has been 2 months now that we have been planning our Young Women’s organization, and during this time I have been amazed with the way my girls have stepped up and became leaders of this group. They are now in charge of almost every aspect, and have shown so much passion in it. At first I saw this group as my baby and was a bit reluctant to give up so much of the power to a group of young girls, but now I can see that nothing makes me happier than to watch my students grow. To know that I have taught them, I have counseled them, and I have in a very small way shaped some of their thinking and now they are taking that and running with it. They are such organized, passionate and compassionate leaders. They express their ideas so completely and respectfully that I cannot help but to sit back at every meeting and beam with pride. In the next week or so we will host 30 to 40 young girls in Spitak for our very first meeting, and I am so excited to see what will happen. We do not have the option to fail, the young women here need this, and we may never again be given the opportunity. So we can only work hard, be sensitive and encouraging and hope that little by little we can help these girls to understand that they can be who they want to be. That who they are need not be shaped by the opinion of what men think they ought to be…. I look forward to stepping outside my English teaching role in Spitak and working with young girls to help them understand that they are the future of their country.

Everyone has been talking about how crazy the weather is back home. So I thought I'd show you a little bit of the crazy weather in Armenia. This was taken on September 1st, but really we had had storms like this all August long. There was even rumors of snow in a small southern village...

This is my new third grade class. They are so adorable!!! It goes without saying that they are super adorable!! I have only had two classes with them, but both times it has been pure comedy!! I love that little kids just say whatever is on their mind. My student karen will just randomly shout out English words as he thinks of them! Today we taught them the letters A and B and he tells us, I know the next letter would you like me to say it. My counterpart tells him no that we will learn it in the next class, and she begins to speak about something else and he just shouts out C! At this age I can't help but to just laugh at them!! Also when they say good evening, they sound like little Count Draculas, bonus entertainment for me!

September 1st is the day of Knowledge and the official first bell in Armenian schools. What this means is all Armenian children dress up in their best black and white outfits, girls in skirts and ruffled shirts, hair in pigtails with big white bows, and boys in suits, dress shirts and ties and come to school. I have been waiting for this day all summer long! Ok not all summer, but defiantly these last few weeks have dragged on meaninglessly and devoid of purpose. So as my taxi pulled up to good ole school number six, and students lined up to see who was inside it I couldn’t help but to smile. Yes it is good to be back! I stepped out of the taxi to an echo of Hello Miss Alyssas and how are yous, greeted my students and went to the teacher’s lounge.

After answering questions about my summer and telling everyone how Sophie is doing, there really wasn’t much else for me to do. So I sat and tried to listen to people’s conversations. Soon I felt as though I was in a tornado of Armenian, all the words whirling by me too quickly for me to catch on to anything. I had forgotten what it is like to be in a room with some 30 Armenian women, it’s overwhelming to say the least! At some point your brain just stops functioning all together. Unfortunately for me this point came just as I was being introduced to the mayor of Spitak, who stopped by to hand out free backpacks to our new first graders. The vice principal wanted me to meet him so she called me over. She began to explain to him that I was the American volunteer who taught English but that I had business experience and could do a lot of things in Spitak, that much I caught on to, but soon I lost what she was saying and when they both turned to look at me, I could tell that I was suppose to say something but I had no idea where the conversation was. I couldn’t even remember how to introduce myself. I simply told him I was happy to meet him, and then offered and embarrassed smile. He must of thought I was an idiot because he just looked at me with mild interest and then continued on with his conversation. I ducked away, but had nowhere to go. It was terribly embarrassing.

Soon it was time to introduce our newest little babies to the school. We gathered in our brand new gym and watched as they came dancing into the spotlight amongst a clamor of applause. Soon our oldest students (12th grade) each grabbed a tiny little hand of a first grader and presented them with a bouquet of balloons. Poems were read, speeches were made and awards presented. Then came my favorite part!! One of the 12th grade boys picked up a little tiny 1st grade girl, handed her a bell and paraded her around the building as she rang the bell for the first time of the new school year. After the commotion was over, the teachers sat down to a nice meal of cake, candy, ice cream and fruit!!! It was a pretty small affair compared to most schools but it was nice and over in time for me to make it home for my 1pm nap. How will I ever return to working 9-5 jobs?!?!

It's August, and I am currently wearing my long underwear,socks, and a sweater. I am also under a blanket and drinking hot coco.... What the heck Armenia?!?! Winter just ended in May, this is unacceptable!!!

Also I went to the Peace Corps office today and was surprised by a number of things. First a mailbox full of dog toys and treats?!?!?! Who are they from??? I don't know but I am really thankful and so is Sophie!!!

Second a letter from my Senator Barbra Boxer pretty much telling me I am awesome and thanking me for my service! Senator Boxer, I AGREE with you! It's about time you noticed =)

Lastly A pretty green bag sitting in the middle of the office with my name on it. What was inside??? A volleyball and two basketballs and a pump!!! Awesome little donation to my school for our new gym, which dear God I hope opens this year!! Thanks to a MR. Paul Bloomer for getting the children of Armenia sports equipment donations! I can't wait to give my students a real volleyball. They would beg me to play with them last year, but they played with a soccer ball. It hurt! Now we can play without breaking all the blood vessels in our arms!!

Life is good even though I am currently begging my dog to come sit on my lap so that I don't have to turn the heater on!!! =) Enjoy your heat wave America

As we drove back in the direction we had come from, I began to wonder where the reception was going to be. The house that we had met the bride at was a tiny little house, so I knew it couldn’t be the place where the reception would be. I wondered if such a tiny village could have a restaurant. The only other Armenian wedding I had been to was at a restaurant so I figured this one would be as well.

A few minutes later we pull back into the driveway of the house that we had left. As we get out of the car, I ask my counterpart if the reception would be at this house. She looks at me and says oh no we don’t do that… Ok then what are we doing here? Oh we will eat and dance and celebrate here, she answers… So the reception is here.

The bride and groom stand at the foot of the stairs to their home that they will share with his parents and sister. The Grooms mother comes out with Levash, she places it on the grooms shoulder first and hugs him and then she goes over to her new daughter and places it on her shoulder. The groom looks over at his bride, smiling, his face lit up with happiness as his mother speaks into his brides ear.

Next we follow them as they lead us into their house. At the entrance way two plates lie on the floor, the bride and groom stomp on them together. They don’t break. They attempt it again as screams of opa ring out (Armenians say opa a lot, I guess it’s not only used by the Greeks). This time the groom’s plate is crushed but not the brides, so the third time the groom and the bride stomp the plate together and it breaks. I have no idea what it means or if it has meaning to it at all other than its just tradition.

We all pile into the family’s dining room where four large tables are laid out around the four walls of the tiny room. One side of the room is for the bride’s side, the head table the bride and groom and toast master and God parents and on the other side a table for the grooms side. The table in the back is for the Singers and the grooms friends. I sit down where I am instructed to sit by my counterpart’s mother, who I also call mama. People are rushing to try to find seats in this tiny room. As people pile in to my table, I begin to panic a bit as I realize that there won’t be room for my counterpart. We try to save her room but my counterpart being who she is, refuses to sit when others don’t have a seat. So in the end I am packed into a table with the groom’s family, only knowing my counterpart’s mom who is sitting near me and not having a single English speaker at my table. My counterpart goes over to the men’s table where her husband is sitting and they share a seat. I look over desperately, my eyes pleading with the men to tell me to come sit with them, as everyone knows, the men’s table is a lot more fun anyways, but of course they don’t as I am an unmarried women and it wouldn’t be appropriate. So life goes in Armenia. It’s not that I don’t want to sit with the women; it’s just that Armenian weddings last well into the night, and sitting a whole 10 hours at a table where no one speaks English is exhausting. I have the conversation skills to last me about an hour. My time limit at an Armenians house is always about an hour because after an hour of small talk, I simply run out of language skills and begin to feel like a child who cannot express themselves.

After everyone is seated a toast is made by the tomada, the guy whose sole purpose at the wedding is to keep everyone drinking. He makes toast after toast, and if someone else wants to make a toast they must ask him. The old women I am with hesitate to pour their drinks; they instead wait to see what I will drink. I in turn am waiting to see what they will drink, as you can never be sure what is appropriate. My mama tells me they are waiting for me, what I would like to drink. I laugh and tell her today I want cognac. She laughs too and calls over her nephew Mkirtich over to the table to poor cognac for us. If you remember from my Easter blog here: http://felicitypassionrapture.blogspot.com/2011/05/charming-easter-in-armenia.html Mkirtich is the sweetest Armenian boy I have ever met and he happens to have a huge crush on me. He blushes as he approaches the table and smiles at me and tells me he is glad that I came. He pours us all a shot and we toast to the bride and grooms health and some other things that I didn’t really understand. Then the women in the groom’s family come out from the kitchen as a khorovots song is being sung. They take the skewers of meat and dance around the room with them as they bring them to the groom. This dance means it’s time to start eating.

Big trays of grilled pork are brought to each of the tables and my counterpart’s mom who pretty much acts as my mom grabs the meat first to make sure that she can grab the best piece for me. I have to say I am usually not much of a pork fan but this was the best grilled pork I had ever had. While we eat toasts are made and people are dancing. There comes a time when all of the groom’s family is asked to make a toast. The tomada goes from person to person and they say some words to the bride and groom and drink. Well when they get to my counterpart’s mother she announces that I would like to make a toast. She tells me that I have to because I am a part of the groom’s family. I look around the room and everyone is staring at me. The Tomada introduces me as the family’s American and tells them that I would like to make a toast. I beg her not to make me but she is relentless. I stand up feeling as though I am going to pass out, we are in a tiny little room with no air conditioning in the middle of summer, I start to say something like I want to thank everyone for inviting me to be here and then I froze. I had no idea what to say. I mean I don’t believe I have ever even made a toast in English, let alone Armenian… so I stand and stare and start giggling. They begin to yell to me to say something in English if I don’t know how to say it in Armenian. So I just say in English I don’t speak Armenian very well but I wish you all the happiness in the world and I quickly sit down. My counterpart translates and it’s all over. I bury my head into my Armenian mothers shoulder and she laughs at me. She asks me why I am so shy. I tell her I am not really shy, I just don’t like it when everyone is staring at me. We both kind of laugh because considering my situation it’s a bit silly, everyone is always staring at me in Armenia. Something about me just screams foreigner.

After the last of the grooms family makes a toast people begin to dance again. As I am sitting at the table I hear my name being called across the room. It’s my counterpart’s husband and Mkirtich, they are holding up their glasses to me and single for me to take a shot with them, so I take a sip of my drink. Then Mkirtich comes over and asks me to dance. I tell him that I can’t, I am not ready to dance but I will dance in a little while. He shrugs and says ok. Then another dance with food begins, this time a huge pig is lead out on a tray and once again they dance with the meat and present it to the bride and groom. I have to say I was a little bit surprised because not once did the bride and groom get up and dance nor did the bride’s family. One time they got up and walked outside, but they didn’t dance. It actually seemed to me that the bride seemed a bit sad. I asked who the people sitting near the bride were and they explained that they were people in the grooms family, his godparents and his sister. I asked why the bride’s sister was not in her wedding party and they said that she couldn’t be because she was already married. I tried to explain to them that it made me sad because American weddings are all about the bride and her friends and family surround her and her husband and she is the happiest person in the room but that Genya didn’t seem so happy and none of her friends were there. They told me that the wedding was a very small wedding and that she was from far away so her friends could not come. I realized how lucky I was to be a part of everything.

As people were eating roasted pig, the tall skinny boy in the picture above holding the pig, asked me to dance. I told him I don’t like to dance, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer. Mkirtich, seeing that I was uncomfortable, came over grabbed my hand and took me to the dance floor and away from the other guy. We danced a little and my counterpart joined in but as we were dancing the music changed and a Russian song came on. Everyone began to make circles, all holding hands and began some Russian folk dance. They grabbed me in as if I knew what the heck they were doing. Whatever it was, it was way too complex for me, and I think they got that because some little old women came and grabbed me by the hands. She lead me in the dance showing me what to do and soon enough I was doing some kind of Russian dancing too and actually I was having a lot of fun. She pulled me into the middle of the circle. All of the other dancers circled around us and we danced. They went one way and her and I the opposite. As we spun in circles I realized that they were all watching me but I didn’t really care because it was so much fun. Soon the dance ended and it was sweltering hot. They told me to stay and dance some more but It was just too hot so I went outside. As I was standing outside a boy came up and began to talk to me. He asked me all kinds of questions about me and why I was there and what I did and the like. Then he asked me how old I was. I told him and he shook his head no. He said I was mistaken. I looked at him like he was an idiot, how could I be mistaken for my own age. I told him that I know how old I am thank you very much, and he simply replied that It wasn’t good then because I was too old to not be married. My face must of scrunched up because my counterpart’s husband Tigran came over and told the boy that he must be on his best behavior with me and that he must be clean and stand up straight. The boy asked Tigran if he knew how old I was and Tigran told him. He asked Tigran why I am not married, at which point my counterpart came over and told him that it’s not in my culture to marry young. He started to say that no one would ever marry me, and I looked at him and told him he was stupid. Everyone began to laugh at him, and he quickly got defensive saying that he wasn’t being rude, but that if I wanted to have a family I should have one now. I told him that I am not disadvantaged that I get to travel where I want when I want, be friends with whoever I want to be friends with and do as I please so he shouldn’t feel sorry for me. He looks at my counterpart and by this time her mom is with her and the mom tells him, she just went to Bulgaria a few weeks ago, have you ever been to Bulgaria? He says no, and she says, well then don’t open your mouth, she has a good life. I feel vindicated and go back inside to dance some more.

While dancing with my counterpart I ask her about the bride and why her family doesn’t dance. She explains to me that the bride’s family will only dance the last dance with their daughter before they leave and then the rest of the night the bride will dance with the groom and his family as they will be the only ones left at the wedding. Soon the bride comes to the floor and dances with her family. Her mom has tears in her eyes, all too quickly the song is over, the bride throws her bouquet and her family leaves. The bride and groom also hand out presents to all of the single people at the wedding. Its’ a small I don’t know what that is pictured above. They also hand out chocolate and tell me I must put it under my pillow so that I will dream about the man I will marry.

The bride and groom dance some and then Ice cream is brought in and we eat it. Now my counterpart has come over and sits with me and explains things to me. We talk a little as others are dancing; only about 20 of us are still at the wedding. I look over and her cousin Mkirtich is over at the singer’s table. He whispers something into the piano player’s ear. The music changes into a slow song. My counterpart gets up and dances with her husband, as I reach for my camera to take a picture, someone grabs my hand. It is Mkirtich. He pulls me to the dance floor, leaving my camera behind. As we dance he tells me that I look very beautiful and that I am the most beautiful girl he has ever seen. He is actually really sweet about it. He also tells me that it really is too bad that we don’t speak the same language because he would like to talk to me more. I laugh and make a joke about my Armenian and he laughs too. I look around the room and his mom and sister are standing together watching us. Uh oh I think to myself. He tells me that I am a good girl in English and asks me if I understand him. I repeat it back to him in Armenian saying yes lav agchick em. He says no no, I mean I love you. I laugh at him and tell him he is a very nice boy. By this time we have been at the wedding for about 10 hours so I am pretty sure he is just intoxicated, as he is normally painfully shy. The song ends and he kisses me on my cheek, I look at my counterpart and we both laugh a little. I walk over to her and tell her that I think her cousin is in love with me. She begins to laugh and says she knows. She told me it was his birthday the previous week and he had really wanted me to go to his party but I was in Bulgaria. He soon comes over and begins to whisper in her ear. She laughs and tells him that I already know. When he leaves she tells me that he told her he likes me. I feel like I am in high school again.

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The bride comes out as new music begins and the family is cleaning. She tells me to dance with her. My counterpart and I do, and my counterpart tells her that I thought she was unhappy. She laughs and assures me that she is very happy. I have to say she is the most adorable thing I have seen. Soon her husband joins us and his whole family is dancing with her and the truth is she really does look happy. That is until she is called away to help clean!!! I couldn’t believe it, so soon she has to step into her duties!!! I couldn’t imagine having to clean up after my own wedding while my husband gets to drink and dance and party with his friends!!! Oh well, I guess that is Armenian life for you. Another reason why I have so much respect for Armenian women!!

My counterpart informed me a few weeks ago that I was going to be a guest at her cousins wedding. It wasn’t so much an offer as a statement of fact. Ok by me, I told her excited to once again be a witness to such an amazing cultural occasion. The thing she didn’t explain to me however was that her cousin was the groom, and that by inviting me to go to the wedding I was actually going to be an active participant in the wedding. This I did not find out until much, much later.

On the day of the wedding, I asked my favorite neighbor if she would come to my house and do my hair for me. I got just about as dressed up as I can be here considering I don’t even have a pair of high heels in country with me. When I walked into my counterpart everyone made a huge fuss over me, as if I am some kind of tomboy that never wears dresses or something, it was very strange.

As we take pictures at my counterparts house I notice a white basket covered in tool and all glittered up. I recognize the basket as the bride’s basket which contains her wedding cloths. I thought it was sort of strange for my counterpart to have the basket as I know it plays such an integral part later in the day. But I didn’t think to question her about it as we soon we were piled tightly into a car and on our way to the festivities.

When we arrived at my counterparts house, where the festivities were to be held, there were cars piled outside of a house. Everyone jumped out of the car, people shouting that we were late. I didn’t quite understand what it was we were late for. I asked my counterpart, whose house is this. This is my cousin’s house she told me. The bride is upstairs in a room waiting for us. Your cousin is the bride, I ask. No my cousin is the groom. I look as her aunt grabs the basket with the bride’s cloths in it, and a bell goes off in my head. I’ve seen this before, the groom’s family is going to have a precession to the bride and they are going to dance with the cloths. I can hear the music begin as we walk around the coroner to the house. A group of girls from the groom’s side of the family are at the gate waiting for us. My counterpart tells me to come and they begin to dance up to the house. My face drops; you mean I have to dance?? Yes she tells me, we are the grooms family, we must dance. I follow at a distance behind her, videotaping it, so as to not have to dance. We get to the yard and people are yelling and whistling and the girls are all dancing, with the brides cloths and flowers up in the air. For about ten minutes they dance, before someone notices I am not dancing. I get thrown into the mix. We dance for awhile and then the groom comes out, wearing a shinny white coat, white shirt and white pants. People scream louder and louder as he joins the dancing party. He throws up his hands, lips pressed together and a face that says, yes this is my party and I have arrived. Confidence and exuberance radiate off of him. You can’t help but to dance when he is dancing. The party dances for about 20 minutes and then we head on up the balcony to the bride’s room. Once in the room the family begins to sing a song. The aunt and the grooms mother place a glove on each of her hands, we all shout shnorhavor (congratulations). They take her shoes off and place the new shoes on her, we all shout shnorhavor again and they burst into another song. It is such a beautiful song, welcoming the bride into their family and telling her congratulations, it kind of reminds me of one of our sorority ritual songs. The bride takes candy from the basket and begins throwing it out to the large group of women gathered in the tiny room. The women around me push me forward and tell me I must take some candy and put it under my pillow tonight. They tell me that who I dream of this night will be the man that I marry.

Soon the footsteps of men are heard approaching the door. The women all turn around and face to face them and make a blockade in front of the door. A little boy in a suit waits at the threshold. The groom approaches and the little boy shakes his head no. Laughter from both the men’s side and the women’s side erupt. The groom hands the boy 5,000 dram (I think) and the boy takes the money but still shakes his head no. The groom hands the little boy more money and the boy allows him to pass. All the women create an aisle and the groom walks to his bride, huge smile on his face. They link arms and we escort them out of the room.

Then it was off to the church!

The church was in a nearby town called Stepanavan. It’s a very old 13th century church and was very beautiful. As we piled into the church the priest person (I have no idea what they are called in Armenia, bisop, minister?) began to speak, even before we were all seated and quiet. I soon learned that is because even during a wedding ceremony Armenians talk!! I was pretty shocked, though I guess it didn’t matter so much for me because I couldn’t understand a word of anything. The only word that I picked out of everything was Genya, which as it turned out was the brides name… good thing I didn’t ask anyone to translate for me, I would have felt really stupid!

During the ceremony the priest sang, placed a crown on the bride and grooms heads, read from a bible, and sang some more. After the ceremony was through we each had to go up to the pulpit and congratulate the bride and the groom and the grooms God parents. We kissed them each on the cheek in a precession ending with the priest whose ring we had to kiss as well as a cross.

Overall I thought the ceremony was very beautiful, though I didn’t understand the words. There was a part of the ceremony where the bride and the groom stood forehead to forehead and the god father placed a cross over their head. They stood like this for a minute or two, just staring into each other’s eyes as prayers were read over them. For me this was the most beautiful part of the ceremony. The one thing that I did feel was missing is that they didn’t have to say any vows, which I think is the most beautiful part of an American wedding.

After taking a few pictures at the church, we drove around the city center three times honking the horns of the cars. Now I have seen this done before, and have always found it to be the most annoying thing, and actually I can sometimes hear horns honking even here in Spitak, but somehow being in the car while it was happening was kind of fun! Next we were off to the reception… To be continued

Bright lights, big European city… well not exactly, but I am starting to learn that almost anything feels big compared to Armenia. I never feel the smallness of the place that I am in until I leave it. As soon as that plane set down in Sofia I felt a pressure lift off my chest. As I observed skate boarders, couples walking holding hands and kissing, dog walkers and a plethora of McDonalds and Subways I realized that I Dorothy was no longer in Kansas anymore. Not even close.

When I selected Sofia for my summer vacation, I figured it wouldn’t be too different from Armenia. I mean both are post soviet countries, both have Peace Corps, so both should be pretty similar, or so I thought. I couldn’t be more wrong. In fact I am struggling to make comparisons between the two, so vast are their differences.

As the taxi driver escorted me from the airport to the hostel the first thing that I noticed was the graffiti in Bulgaria, it’s everywhere! It almost has an old school Los Angeles feel to it, except for the architecture, everything in Bulgaria is very cute and what I would imagine to be very European. Everything is so old, and yet so modern. Next to a 10th century church sits a McDonalds and just down the road is a Turkish Hamman which is across the street from a Metro station. Upon my first glance at the city I wasn’t very impressed. Why I chose to come here again, I asked myself.

The Taxi driver took me to my hostel where right away I noticed that this wasn’t your ordinary hostel. I walked into the reception area and bags upon bags were piled around the room and close to 30 people were hanging around playing pool, sleeping on bean bags, and talking. I sat down with the receptionist and she highlighted the places on the map of Sofia that I should go to. To be honest, I was overwhelmed a bit and a little afraid to go out into the city alone. So I sat down for about 20 minutes working up my courage.

Finally I was off, map in hand, going to see the sites of a new country. I was afraid that I would be bored alone, or that I would lose my way, but in fact, I had a great time. The best thing was that I could do whatever it was that I wanted. If I was tired I could sit down and people watch for a bit before going on. If I wanted to skip something that didn’t seem interesting I did. It was great to not have to worry about anything at all. My first stop was for some Bulgarian Ice Cream. The Ice Cream stand was so colorful, and the flavors looked so interesting, though I didn’t know what any of them were because everything was written in Cyrillic. So I essentially pointed to what colors looked best and was rewarded by some of the most delicious ice cream I have ever had. I’d put it right behind Reineers Ice Cream Shop at Sequoia National Park. I took a seat at a busy intersection and ate my delicious treat as I watched people walking by. The thing that surprised me right away was that Bulgarians do not have an autonomous look. They all look very different and sometimes it was hard for me to tell who the tourists were and who the host country nationals were. The second thing I noticed was the way the dressed! Men wearing board shorts and tank tops, men wearing no shirts, people wearing flip flops and girls in nice sun dresses. I almost felt as though I was back in the states, except for one glimpse at the architecture would remind me otherwise. As I sat there a man began to play the violin and people gathered around to watch. No one got pushy with each other, people just calmly stood by to watch. I stayed sitting and closed my eyes for a minute to enjoy the peace. Ahhh vacation!!

After my ice cream was done, I walked to the nearest Church St. Nedelia’s. Once I stepped inside I was amazed. Frescos covered every inch of the walls. Beautiful images of the gospels were everywhere on the walls, while the front of the church was brightly gold. It was somehow exactly as I thought it would be and still breath taking all at once. I walked around staring at each picture, trying to figure out what it was depicting. I lit candles for each person in my family and let the peace of the church refresh me as I sat taking it all in for about an hour. It was nice to be able to take all the time I wanted and not feel as though I had to rush. After this I walked to a few more sites, I basically hit up all the monuments and sites to be seen in Sofia, all in just one afternoon. My last stop was at Alexander Nevsky Cathedral and I can’t even describe it effect on me. I have never seen a more beautiful cathedral in my life. The fact that this was made for the glory of God impressed me and while trying to take it in I was overcome with emotion. I lit more candles and I prayed and prayed and prayed. I felt so much pressure unloaded from my shoulders and before I knew it I was sleeping in the church!!! I think I was only asleep for a half hour or so, but when I woke up I was so embarrassed! I wonder if that happens often?!?

After day one of site seeing, I had already come to love and appreciate this charming little placed called Sofia. Not the way I adore Istanbul, nor the way I cherish Armenia, but in a way that I could walk around light hearted, smiling and being smiled back at, comfortable in my own skin, not being stared at, melding in as just one of them kind of way. I felt invisible in a fantastic kind of way that I have not felt once since I have left America. I felt as though I could belong there and no one would know the difference, I felt that in that time and place I did belong there. I was lighthearted and free for the first time in a loooong time!

Last year as I was visiting Spitak in preparation to move here, I had a meeting with my counterpart to be at my host families’ house. She called about an hour ahead of time, informing me that she was on her way to meet me. I quickly threw on my best cloths, wanting of course to make a good impression on this woman who I knew would be everything in Spitak. After I got dressed I ran out to the porch to wait for her. I waited and waited and waited. Finally I gave up and went back inside; not knowing what was taking her so long.

About an hour later as I was taking my mid-day nap, I was woken up when my counterpart walked into my room, laughing. The first thing that I noticed was that her hair was wet, dripping in fact. When I shook her hand, I noticed it was not only her hair that was wet but she was completely drenched. I must have looked puzzled because she began to laugh as she told me that kids had dumped water on her. As she said this, I vaguely remember that I had heard about some kind of Armenian water holiday. She explained to me that it was Vardavar, a day when all Armenians celebrate by playing in water in general, but mostly by throwing water on each other. The greatest thing, she told me, was that you could even throw water on Tatiks and they don’t get mad.

At the time I was a little disappointed, I was staying with a host family and they had told me nothing about it. Not a single splash of water was made that whole day with my family. They never even mentioned it to me. I was sad that I didn’t get the opportunity to experience my first Armenian holiday.

So this year, now that I live in the city center, I was a little bit excited to finally get to experience this water day. The truth is it’s so hot here, that a bucket of water on your head actually sounds nice! As I prepared for my morning run, I wrapped my Ipod in plastic, prepared for the day. I walked to the park, and surprisingly enough I didn’t see a single person outside. I ran for an hour around the lake, and not a single soul was around, which is defiantly not the norm, usually I have groups of boys that sit and watch me run… It was actually a little bit eerie. It was so hot outside too! I began to walk up the stairs to go back to my apartment. There were two Armenian women in front of me dressed in nice cloths and high heels. I began to think that maybe this holiday wasn’t really celebrated in Spitak that much. Then I hear a splash of water hit and screams erupt from the women. I looked up and saw a group of boys waiting above the stairs with buckets of water, water bottles and plastic bags of water. The women began to yell at the boys telling them that they didn’t even know them so they couldn’t throw water at them. They were really pissed off, I had to laugh as it reminded me of my mom a little! She would hate this holiday!

So as I reached the top of the stairs, I braced myself for a splash of cold water, to tell you the truth after running miles in the hot sun, I actually wanted water to be poured on my head. But there was nothing. Just the group of boys standing there all looking confused. They had the water ready, but seemed as if they didn’t quite know what to do. Then I saw that they were looking directly at Sophie who was out in front of me on her leash. They began to walk away in the other direction, one asking the other, can we water the dog? Maybe it bites. So I had my first brush with vardavar but I came out un-scathed.

As I walked to my building, there was a 10 year old up on the balcony, waiting with a bucket of water. He politely waved to me and said hello Miss Alyssa. Once again he didn’t dare to dump water on me.

So I went on with the day as normal, me and Sophie came back home and took our mid-morning nap, but after awhile we were awoken by screams outside the window. I walk out to the balcony where I see a water war going on between kids below. On my neighbors balcony a group of my younger neighbors have gathered all with buckets of water. They say hello to me and ask if I know that it is a holiday. I laugh and say I do. They tell me that they feel the need to throw water on me. I laugh because I know I am too far for them to reach, and on the top story so there is no chance. They try anyways and waste bucket after bucket of water in hopes that it will hit me. Downstairs there is a commotion as a young man dumps a bucket of water on a mom who decided that she was untouchable because she had a newborn in a stroller. Apparently she wasn’t. They boy then begins to taunt me, telling me to come down and play with them. I laugh and decline. The girls on the balcony next to me attempt to throw water on me once more, I laugh at their futile efforts. As I am laughing cold water covers my head. I am drenched! I look behind me and see the back of one of my neighbors running out my front door. She had run into my house, out on my balcony, as I was distracted, and dumped a bucket on me. My door wasn’t locked! I had no idea that someone would just come into my house to get me. I am completely stunned, as I am standing there soaked. Everyone looking up at me, suspended, waiting for a reaction. I begin to laugh, and they laugh with me.

I quickly lock the door and change into my bathing suit. This is going to be messy. I sit out on my balcony and watch the festivities below as secretly I am preparing buckets of cold water in my house. I don’t throw a single bucket while I am on my balcony, as the kids are already soaked, and really I just have revenge on my mind. Everyone thinks I must not be into it. Finally the kids go inside and so do my neighbors. This is my chance, I know that my target will have to leave the apartment next door to go downstairs to her apartment. So I wait, bucket in hand at my peephole. Five minutes pass and nothing, then ten. I am about to give up, when I hear a door open. I look through the whole and see her plaid shirt. I throw my door open and release a whole bucket of water right on top of her dry head. She screams and begins to laugh and run away from me. She screams to me that she will get me back. Not likely I say.

So I lock my door and go back to doing whatever I was doing. I vow not to go outside for the rest of the day, which seems easy as it’s already 4 pm. I watch a movie and begin to make dinner all the time hearing splashes of water and bursts of screams. I laugh, knowing I am un-touchable. I realize I have no bread, but decide to do without it for the night. Then my cell phone goes off. My best friend sends me a text. Uh-oh I think when I hear the ring, I hope I have dram on my phone. I look at the text, it’s asking me if can meet her in Yerevan. The type of text you have to answer. I press *122* into my phone and wait for it to respond with the amount of dram I have left. It beeps and lets me know that there is 6 dram left on my phone. Not enough to send even a single text. So I drop call her, thinking she can call me back… She doesn’t call back; maybe she has no dram either.

So I have to go to the local hanoot to get a cell phone card. I listen at the door, and hear screams but they trail around to the back of the building. Everyone is at the back of the building playing, so I can simply go around to the front. Sophie intact, we sneak out of my door and go out the front of the building. Not a soul to be seen except an old tatik and the end of the pathway. She smiles at me, I take it as a sign of encouragement and quickly Sophie and I are off. As we are walking there are basically three rows of balconies that I have to look out for. I look up and all seem to be clear. Then I hear a splash behind me. It doesn’t hit me and when I look up I see nothing. So I walk faster, and splash splash splash, people fill the balconies and are laughing as I walk under them. Nothing hits me; I escape to the stairs un-scathed. I go into the store and they begin to laugh. I ask them why, and they tell me Sophie got jurvesed, or had water thrown on her. I look at her little face and water is dripping from her. She looks miserable. I laugh too. I buy what I need to and am on my way. I walk up the stairs, and the same tatik is there. She offers me a bowl of cherries, and tells me to go around the back. I decline her advice, not fully trusting her, as I had a feeling she was in on it last time. I tell her I will take the front, and she takes my bag of bread, wraps it tightly and turns it upside down. I look up and people are in the baronies laughing. I laugh back, they won’t hit me, their aim sucks, I think to myself. So I begin to walk very calmly to my apartment. Bags of water, essentially acting as water balloons come crashing down as I walk. Not a single one hits me. I look back and Sophie hasn’t moved an inch. She is in fact trying to get out the other way, back down to the store. Crap! I have to go back under the balconies to get her. One bag hits my foot, but doesn’t explode. I grab Sophie is soaked with water, tuck her under my arm and begin the other way again. Once again the bags are tossed but don’t hit. VICTORY is almost mine. One more door to pass and then I will be at my apartment. I begin to pass the door, almost home I think, prideful. And then I feel a crash upon my head. Cold water shocks me into confusion. I look up and see nothing. There is no bag around my feet or on my head. Then I sense movement behind me, a big fat man with a huge smile on his face is standing there laughing at me. I guess they learned they needed a new tactic. He had ran all the way down stairs and threw a bucket of water on my head. I begin to laugh and a little girl runs over and dumps a cup on Sophie’s head. I take off running, trying to protect my bread!

When we get to my apartment, Sophie runs under the bed, where she stays the remainder of the night. When I call out to her, she glares at me, as if I had thrown the water on her head. She made it very clear, she is not a fan of Vardavar, but in all honestly I am! I can’t wait for next year. Now that I know no one expects the water early in the morning, I am ready to wage water war!!

Sitting on a marshuka on my way to Vanadzor, Ipod held tightly in my hand, skipping amongst my favorite Adele songs I crouch into the window, trying to blend in, but knowing that it’s not really possible. The most I can hope for is that my music can carry me into oblivion, that when a group of girls standing nearby start laughing at me, that I won’t notice, that I won’t start to wonder what it is that I am wearing that they don’t approve of today. I stare out the window, and nod my head along to the music, tapping my feet, and enjoying the beautiful hills and wildflowers that have exploded all over the place just within the last few weeks. This is a trip that I make every few weeks, but the beauty of it never ceases to amaze me. Sometimes I feel like my dad, all those times we would go on long drives and he would point out the beauty in the world as I would roll my eyes; only I have no one to point it out to. So I smile to myself, aware that others are watching me, and most likely thinking I am a bit crazy, but I don’t really care. Purple, pink, yellow and green spin around me, filling my soul up with gratefulness, something I have been lacking lately. I look around the bus, wondering if anyone is sharing this feeling with me, wondering if their breath has been taken away by the beauty of their country. Hard stares return my glance, I don’t look away. I return their frown with a smile, trying to spread some of my cheer, but their reality starts to press upon me. The reality of trying to make a better life for yourself when you know there aren’t many opportunities for you because of where you were born. I can see the worries on their faces. The young mother worries about her husband working in Russia, wondering if he will send enough money for her to get by, and trying to suppress the emptiness she feels without him. The young man consumed with how he will make his life better, where can he work? Will he have to follow the many before him and go to Moscow? The middle aged mom thinks of her young son serving in the Army, he has been away for 4 months now and soon they will send him to his permanent assignment. She prays that he will be safe, and far away from the Azerbaijani boarder, and she hopes that he will be able to come home soon to visit, if she is one of the lucky ones. The middle aged man worries about the work that has to be done, his garden is calling him, he has no work, all he can do is make the best of the home that he owns and keep his family eating. The young girl thinks about the exams she must take soon, she hopes that she will do well because she must get into the University in order to make anything of her life. She is trying her best to learn English, but how can she learn when she has no one to practice with. She briefly wonders if she could befriend me, but soon her thoughts go back to her anxiety over her schooling, she has to get out of here, but what if she doesn’t pass? The Tatik worries about her many ailments, her back has been hurting more than usual, and she has been having heart problems, but there is too much work in the home and garden to be done for her to complain, besides her daughter in law doesn’t work hard enough so she must make sure the family has enough to eat.

Their worries and problems begin to make my heart feel heavy again. Armenian energy is often overwhelming; it has begun to have a pull onto my spirit. I turn my head and look out the window again, wanting to go back to the previous moments when life was only beauty, purple flowers and sunshine. I wish they would just take a moment to get out of their head and look out the window. To see the beauty of the world they live in. To see that tangled in the weeds and brush, there are beautiful flowers.

Today over coffee, ice cream and apricots I shared my observations with my counterpart. We spoke about everything I have been holding in. I explained to her that sometimes it feels like there is too much sadness here and that it affects me. We laughed about Spitak people thinking I am a little bit strange because I smile too much. I even told her that I hate to clean house and that I know that people say that I am messy, she laughed and agreed that it is true. I told her how I would rather read books and take long walks and go running and play with Sophie and visit my friends than to clean. How I don’t understand why Armenian women clean all day every day. Yes they have beautiful homes, but how is the quality of life? She laughed and said its true. She took a look around her house and a smile crept onto her face. Don’t tell anyone, she tells me, but I don’t like to clean either. Today I did not clean and I don’t think I will either. Your right, there are better ways to spend your time. We both laugh as I interject and say what about your husband… never mind she says, he gets home when it is dark tonight, he won’t notice! I love how I can find so many similarities with her. I always feel that though we come from different planets she really truly understands me, and I am beginning to understand her and her people. Though I get lonely here, I know that I always have her on my side and I couldn’t be more grateful!

This is by far my favorite neighbor in Spitak maybe even my favorite neighbor ever! Every day around 5 I go and sit outside and read while Sophie runs around causing problems and having adventures. My neighbor always comes and sits right by me. We don’t talk so much, but I think she feels that I am alone and should have company. She doesn’t ask me nosey questions about my life and when I am going to get married. She doesn’t complain about me, or come knock on the door to tell me I am doing my laundry the wrong way. She simply sits by me and relaxes.

She also happens to be Sophie’s favorite person in Spitak!!! Sophie loves her so much, every time she sees her she comes sprinting down the hill and jumps all over her. Most Armenians would probably kick Sophie if she jumped on them, but not this neighbor, she simply says Sophie incha, incha. Mernem kez. Sophie what, what, I die for you!! It’s so cute to watch them together!! She always brings bread for Sophie to eat and even comes to tell me when she thinks Sophie is thirsty and needs some water!

When other neighbors get angry at Sophie or scared of her, she defends her. She even told a group of kids who would come to sit with me but were afraid of Sophie not to come anymore. She told them that 5 is Sophie’s time to be outside and if they are scared and are going to cause problems they need to go play somewhere else!!

I am very lucky to have such a kind person in my building, because mostly I feel that my neighbors hate having me here.

So I have been in Armenia for over a year now and in this time my life has completely changed as is to be expected. For the most part I am used to the changes and hardly think about what life was like before. However there are things that about America and being back home that I do miss more than anything. And I am not talking about my family. Obviously I miss my family and my dog more than anything else. I am talking about the little, taken for granted things here.

Feeling Safe

I miss the sense of security that I always had in America. I lived in Long Beach which a lot of people consider to be a little bit or a lot (depending on who you talk to) ghetto. Yet I always felt safe there. I could sit in my living room with my door wide open and never once had a worry about it. I could wear whatever I wanted to wear and not be afraid that it would draw negative attention to me. And most importantly I could be outside after dark and not worry about it. I would run at 10 pm with no problems and walk Lucca at 2 in the morning without a single fear in my mind. I miss that feeling.

Drug Stores

Most of you have no idea what it is like to be sick and not be able to get the medicine you need when you need it. Something as simple as cough drops you take for granted. Here if I get sick I pray to God that what I need is in my medical kit, because if it is not I will have to make a 2 hour trip to the Doctor’s office in the Capital. 2 hours on a public mini bus is not exactly how you want to be spending your time when you are sick, especially not if you are nauseas. There are ways to have medicine sent to your town or village but it involves a lot of work and coordination and a long walk to get to the meet up point where you look for a random stranger carrying a brown bag of your medicine, which is often awkward. So yes I miss the convenience of Longs and Walgreens very much when I am sick.

Window Screens

In the summer it gets very hot here. As you may have guessed there are no air conditioners so we make due by opening our windows and praying for a nice breeze. In Spitak we get nightly rain storms which help cool things down, but only for awhile. Besides the fact that sometimes keeping your windows open does nothing in the middle of the day, the other major problem is that by leaving your window open you are sending out an invitation to all the flies, mosquitoes and moths in the area to come on in. I really hate bugs, especially mosquitoes so most of the time I am inclined to keep my window closed and deal with the heat, but sometimes it’s just too much and I have to open it. Inevitably it means that I spend much of my time in the summer chasing down flies that get into my apartment and then cleaning up their guts… I know gross!

Dates

I miss going out on dates. Yup I said it. Tommy and I always had the best date nights to look forward to back home. He always thought of amazing places to take me to and romantic things to do. Whether it was teaching me how to surf or taking me to a basketball game, or setting up a romantic fondue dessert station in my living room, we had so much fun! Here dating is nonexistent unless you are in Yerevan. I live in Spitak, people don’t date in Spitak at least not in the sense that Americans do. First of all I am not quite sure what the cultural implications of dating are in my town. Second even if I knew it was 100 percent fine, there is still nothing to do. There are no cafes, no restaurants, no coffee shops, no theaters, no concerts… nothing. Not unless you want to go into Yerevan, which with the last bus leaving from Yerevan to Spitak means you would have to plan an afternoon date, which is kind of weird. You can’t even do dinner nights at your house. My neighbors would never stop talking if a man showed up at my door with flowers in his hands for a dinner date. It’s a very very very conservative culture and it makes being in a relationship very difficult and frustrating and sneaky.

The Ocean and everything that comes with it

I have not been in the ocean for over a year. I use to live a mile from the beach, a mile. Now I live in a land locked country. Armenia is a beautiful country, but my heart can never fully belong to a place that is Ocean less. There is something very soothing about the ocean, and in long beach I use to walk to the beach just to sit near the waves and write in my journal. I miss that serenity. I miss swimming, being emerged in warm clean water and having waves move your body. I miss floating and being weightless, and sun bathing and the smell of the sea.

I also really really really really miss seafood. Seafood has to be my favorite food in the world, especially in the form of Sushi and crab legs. When you grow up in California you are use to some of the best Sushi you can get in the states, because the fish is so fresh! I miss it and crave it and can’t wait to go home in November if for no other reason than cheap delicious sushi and crab legs.

Happy Hour

I miss happy hour, not because I miss drinking and getting cheap drinks, but because I miss getting together with friends at the close of a stressful work day and sharing your stories and bitching and relaxing and laughing together. I miss sipping on a margarita and watching the Laker game as the whole bar cheers and goes crazy together. I miss that part of American culture where friends are just as important in your life as family, and getting together with them outside of work is normal. Here people stick to their families. They don’t really have dinner nights with their friends, or girls nights or any of the cute little nights we have in the US. None of my Armenian friends have ever come over to my apartment for dinner, though I have invited them many times. Dinner is a time spent with their family here. Also women don’t really have friends outside of their family and co-workers so maybe they don’t feel a need to spend time outside of work with their friends. It’s a hard adjustment to get use to, especially when I don’t have the choice of eating dinner with my family, as I don’t have a family here.

Shopping

I have always been something of a shopper. I had my first job at 16, and really had nothing to do with my money other than buy cloths. My friends in highschool would tease me because my closet was impossible to sort through, even though it was color and season coded, because there was so much stuff in it. Even in college when I worked 2 jobs at least, and was always broke, I would find time to go shopping. I know most people would consider it bad, but it has always been comforting to me to wander around in a store and carefully select the things you want and need. I even enjoy the process of choosing between two things that you really want, when you can only afford one. Everything about shopping is comforting to me. I have always been one who believes that when you have a really bad day, or you break up with a boyfriend or when you have a great day and accomplish big goals, that there is nothing better than going and buying yourself something nice. I’ll be honest, I still get the urge here and find myself shopping online, but nothing is as rewarding as being in the store itself.

Being Anonymous

I have always wanted to be the center of attention, maybe it has to do with me being a middle child, so you would think I would love that everyone here always is paying attention to me. I guess this is a lesson in being careful what you wish for. While it’s nice to walk down the street and have people want to help you and talk to you, and invite you into their homes, it’s not so great when they talk about what you are wearing, how you look, how strange you are, or how you hang up your laundry. It’s also not cool that you can get in a small argument with the water lady and how everyone in the whole town will know about it. It has come to the point that now as I walk down the street I simply keep my head down. I don’t want to have to see everyone staring at me. I especially hate it on days when I don’t wear make-up. People always feel the need to tell me that I look sick, or even worse talk to others around them about me looking sick… Yes I miss the days of running to the store in a baseball cap and pj pants and no one caring whatsoever!

Variety

I now fully realize just how amazing California is. There is so much diversity there, that no one really ever stands out for being different because we are all so different. I never have a problem back home remembering names or faces or how I know people. Here in Armenia, people that I have met often come up and talk to me, and for the life of me I can’t figure out how I know them, because they all start to blend together. There really are no ethnicity differences here and it’s strange to me. The lack of cultural diversity means a lack of food diversity. Diversity brings about amazing food combinations and varieties. There was always something new for me to eat in Long Beach. I didn’t even have to go to a restaurant to benefit from the variety of food because the grocery stores always featured new ethnic foods to try. I never got into food slumps in America, never. Here I feel like everything is always the same. No matter who it is that invites me over for dinner or to a party, I know what the dishes will be. I’ve been here a year and I think that by November or December I had tasted all that Armenia has to offer. I am not saying that the food is not delicious, because it is. I love dolma, spas and khorovots, but when you eat those things all the time, they lose their appeal.

Being treated like an Adult-

I don’t think I have been treated like an adult from the moment I have stepped foot into this country. Not by the Peace Corps, and not by host country nationals. Wherever I go I get scolded and reprimanded as if I am a little child. My least favorite words to hear in Armenian are Chi Karali which means you are not allowed. I cannot imagine telling an adult that in America!! However among my neighbors it is their favorite phrase to say to me. Sometimes it’s not even that people are doing anything mean or disrespectful, such as at my school, it’s just that they see me as a little girl. I often have to remind them that I am 27 years old and no matter how many times I tell them that, it shocks them. I think mostly it is because I am not married and do not have children which is unusual here. They don’t know quite how to deal with me because I am not exactly a woman yet to them because I have no family or husband. I think they equate this with me needing to be taken care of. Also the guest culture in Armenia is very prominent, and even though I have been here for a year they still feel as if I am a guest and need to be taken care of. Even when I go to the grocery store I have people follow me around trying to help me because they think that I cannot shop on my own. It’s funny when I tell them back in America I lived on my own, and drove a car and had a job. They honestly find it strange.

And even though life has changed there are some things that are still the same. For example I still walk outside of my apartment in the middle of summer and wish that I could bring my sleeping bad outside to sleep in because it’s hotter in my apartment than it is outside. I am still car accident prone even though I don’t have a car to drive anymore. I still have a boyfriend that I fight with all the time because we don’t understand each other, only this time it’s due to language and not differences in personality, and still the number one fight we get in is over him being late… in fact sometimes life here feels exactly as it was at home. The key difference is I am happy here. I am happy with the work that I am doing and feel satisfied that I am making a difference. In fact I am happier at work now than I am when I am at home whereas in America I was only happy when I wasn’t at work.

Excursion: A short journey or trip, esp. one engaged in as a leisure activity. At least that is what the dictionary defines it as.

When my counterpart asked me if I wanted to go on an excursion (the Armenian word is the same as the English) to Desgh with our fifth form class, I was excited for the chance. Who wouldn’t want a Khorvots in a beautiful meadow with their favorite students? Great, she tells me, be at my place at 8:00 am we are leaving at 8:30. 8:30 am?!?! What have I gotten myself into, I wonder. You have to understand Armenians are not known for being morning people, like at all. Neither of the host families I lived with ever went to bed before 1 am and neither ever woke up in the morning before 10 am. They like to stay up late and get up late, it’s just the way they are. In fact when I get up at 7 to go running Spitak is a ghost town! I don’t see a single person which is in fact why I choose to go at that time. Even if I wake up late and go at 9, I don’t see very many people out. So I knew that a call time this early could only mean trouble. I mean Desegh is only about a 45 minute drive from Spitak, so I couldn’t see a single reason to leave that early.

Skip forward to the day of our little “Excursion”. I was told not to bring anything that I wouldn’t need a single thing. So I grab Sophie and go! When the Marshotka pulls up to my counterparts house I notice that she has a huge day bag packed full… that is strange I think to myself. We pile into the mini bus, and the children’s parents immediately start to complain that I brought Sophie. I just smile and pretend not to understand. She sits on my lap and behaves perfectly the whole car ride, until about minute 43 when she pukes everywhere… great! When we get to Desegh, we go to the Armenian poet’s museum. It was actually his family’s old house that they turned into a museum. It wasn’t very notable. We then get back in our van and an argument breaks out between my counterpart and the driver. Something about driving to a river, and him saying the car wouldn’t go that far. Soon enough we begin to drive up a rough dirt road. After about twenty minutes the van stops in what seems to be the middle of nowhere. Everyone heads out of the van and begins to unpack the bags and bags of food. We begin to hike to a place my counterpart says is perfect for a picnic. After ten minutes of hiking, I realized I should have brought sun screen, who would have known that we were actually going to have a sunny day?!!? After 30 minutes of hiking we arrived at a spot with trees. One in our party ran into the forrest to check it out. He came back after a few minutes to report that there was no lake there. So we went the opposite direction to another patch of trees. After about 15 more minutes of hiking we discovered there was not a river in that patch either. A few of us threw our stuff down and sat in the shade. I have to admit I was one of those few. I figured I might as well wait till they hiked to the next place because they would most likely be back in our direction soon. As it turned out I was right and the next place didn’t have a river either. So we hiked back down, a whole 45 minutes to where we began. At this point I will admit, I wanted to murder someone. As I have stated before in this blog, I am not so much of a hiker, especially in the heat when there are mosquitos everywhere!!!

So as we got back to our starting point we saw a man on a horse and we asked him where the lake was. It turns out it was about a 30 minute walk in the only direction we hadn’t tried, so off we were again!

Finally we got to the place my counterpart had meant for us to go all along, and as we laid our stuff out, we noticed a bus driving up a perfectly fine road… turns out our bus could have driven us there I the first place!!! So after about 3 hours of hiking and being in the sun I was already worn out. I had expected the trip to really only be 5 hours in all so I figured it was fine that we would eat and be home soon. I laid out my blanket and Sophie and I fell asleep. I think we slept for about an hour. When I woke up a fire was being built. Yess, lunch time I thought… only they were only preparing coffee. The moms sat around and drank coffee and the kids played. I kind of just sat on my blanket, the only thing that I did bring, and read.

After another hour or so, they began to BBQ. It was finally time to eat! At this point it was about 3pm, the time I had expected to be on our way back to Spitak. But we had an amazing meal and so I couldn’t complain. After lunch I played volleyball with my kids for awhile until the heat was too much for me. When I sat down, it was apparently time for dessert. Another round of plates were set out and everyone once again sat down to eat. After dessert a group of people made a walk to the water, but I was feeling a little bit sick so I went back to sleep. I woke up at around 6 thinking it must be time to go now, but to my surprise not a single thing was cleaned up. Everyone was just sitting around talking. I went over to my counterpart to ask her if we were leaving soon, she smiles at me and tells me know, thinking I would be glad. A little part of me screamed inside! When are we going to leave!! Aggggh. Basically we didn’t even begin to pack up our stuff to leave until 8pm.

Finally we were on our way home and all I could do was put on my IPOD and try to block the singing kids on the bus out. I thought they would be tuckered out, but somehow they had so much energy still! As we are driving I start to drift off to sleep. I don’t know how long I slept but I woke up when the car stopped. I look around expecting to be back in good ole Spitak, but no. We are at a park. I guess it was time to eat the remainder of the Khorovots and to play again. I don’t really know because I was done. Fed up. I felt as though I had been kidnapped and would never return home. I hate to admit it, but I sat in the car the whole time as the children ran around playing and the adults ate. I basically pouted. I know it’s not cool, and that grown ups shouldn’t throw fits, but like a child, I was tired and had a headache and had about 30 bug bites that were beginning to itch, and no water to drink. I was miserable.

Finally at about 10:30 we got home. I have never been so happy to be back in Spitak in my life. Though Desegh was a beautiful place, I have to say, I would have been good with 2 or 3 hours there, not 14!! I may never go on an Armenian excursion again!

Last Friday was my last day I had to be at school. The children don’t come to classes, but teachers spend the day grading. It was actually pretty boring for me, as you really only need one teacher to grade and though I helped make final decisions about students who were on the edge of a grade, I didn’t really do much. So I spent my day with Larissik! Larissik is the daughter of one of my favorite teachers at my school Manush. She is 5 years old and adorable! We spend most of our time coloring and drawing pictures, but after a few hours she got bored. That is when I took out my camera to show her the pictures from her Kindergarten party. After we looked through the pictures, she wanted me to take more pictures of her…. After I took more pictures of her, she wanted to take pictures of her herself…. After she took pictures of her herself, she wanted to take pictures of everyone and everything! If you give a girl a Camera this is what you will end up with!

A picture of my eyeball...

Me and the Director of my School.

This teacher begged Larissik not to take the picture, but of course the little imp did anyways

The director of my school and Larissik's mom

This by far was the picture that pleased her the most. She took about 20 of them and giggled about it forever afterward.

This is self portrait number 18...

I had one English club that day and during the middle of it Larissik walked in and began to take pictures!!

I actually really like this one she got of my counterpart grading

And this blury one of our P.E. and Army teacher

This one shows the chaos of the teacher's room

And lastly another self portrait of my little doll!

Overall, I think we just may have a little photographer on our hands!

Happy Anniversary!!!Today is my one year anniversary with Armenia. One year is a pretty huge milestone in any relationship, and to me it signals the end of the honeymoon phase, well at least as far as shorter relationships go. This anniversary is especially important to me because one year and five weeks ago I sat on my best friend Betsie’s living room couch. It was a Monday, and I hadn’t even received my official invitation yet, but I had found out on Friday that I would be leaving in just over a month’s time. I had known for about two years that I was going to be in the Peace Corps, but my official invitation always got delayed or rescinded so at one point it stopped being real to me. When I was told that I’d be leaving so soon, I had expected to leave in September; I just about had a panic attack. Fear overcame me, and for a few days I just shut down completely. I remember Betsie and I talking about the future and me admitting to her that I wasn’t sure I could leave. I had a “what the heck am I doing” moment, and was frozen with fear. With only about a month to get my affairs settled, and say goodbye to my job and my family, I really didn’t have time to freak out. So together Betsie and I decided that I would go and give it a try, worse comes to worse it would just be a vacation. Even in the best case scenario we decided that after a year I would most likely come back home. I just remember thinking, I can give up everything for one year, but two years and three months, it’s just too much!So today is the mark of when I told myself I could quit if I wanted to, I have officially been in Armenia for one whole year. I haven’t seen the faces of any of my friends or family for a whole year!! For a girl that went home to see her parents every other week, and would call her sister and brother on a daily basis begging them to come hang out, this is a huge deal to me. It’s hard to even remember what the life that I use to live was like.The one that included taco Tuesday’s with my co-workers, fro yo date nights with my best friend, weekly dinners and game nights with my sister, concerts with my brother, movie nights with my dad, lunch with my mom, and unconventional date nights with my boyfriend. I remember that I use to complain that I was an obsessive compulsive planner. All I would want was a day where I could stay home and read but somehow I always ended up making plans.Now here I am in Armenia a year into my service and I see Americans about once every other week, sometimes once a month. Pretty much after Sophie and I go for our evening walk at about 5 all face to face social interaction is done for the day. I interact with students more than I do with adults now, and most of my conversations take place on facebook chat. My life now is about as different as could possibly be from my life a year ago. And while there are days when I miss my family and old life so much that every breath feels labored as if all my love for them is on top of me, putting pressure on my chest, suffocating me and forcing me to feel their absence, most days I am perfectly content here. People always ask me why I am here and don’t I get bored here, and the truth is of course I get bored but sometimes it’s nice to be bored when you compare it with the overload of activities that keep us constantly moving back home.So here I am one year into my service and I am surprised to discover I have absolutely no intentions of going home anytime soon. I’ve been told that the second the plane set down in Armenia other volunteers had a bet that I would soon go home. I think it mostly had to do with me having dislocated my jaw and being completely miserable my first week in country, but the truth is the moment I got here I feel in love and have never looked back. I feel blessed to be able to live the life that I am living now, to have made the friends and family that I have made here, and to work where I am working now. The truth is I can leave at any time I want to, but as I have recently found out, even if I was asked to leave, I would fight with everything I have to stay here because this is my home now, at least for the time being.So thank you Armenia for being an amazing place for me to call home in this past year. The memories I have made and will make here will never be forgotten.

Anyone who knows anything about me knows I have a passion for dogs. I love dogs of all kinds, even the mean stray ones. I really believe a dog is truly good unless trained to be otherwise, and by trained I mean kicked, and ignored and abandoned. Part of my work in the Peace Corps is to introduce and educate my community about Americans and one of the ways I do this is by taking Sophie with me everywhere. I am not so comfortable when people in my community ask me in depth questions about my own life, but I light up any time I get to share about Sophie. And through time Sophie has turned out to be quite a popular pup, I even think it's getting to her head a bit, as now she barks at me whenever I am not paying attention to her. Every day I take Sophie outside my building and let her run off some pent up anxiety that she gets from me leaving her at home while I work. While many people see her and run the other way, she has made friends with a lot of people from the building. Most notably the bottom floor neighbor. This neighbor just adores Sophie, and always comes out to say hello to her. She brings her water when she is thirsty and bread when she wants to spoil her. Well the cutest thing happened today. As Sophie was off in the distance smelling things and doing whatever it is puppies do, she looked up and saw my little old neighbor. She bounded across rocks and debris and came running up to the neighbor. “Sophik, my little favorite” the women greets Sophie with a pet on the head. She then tells Sophie to go run off. When Sophie gets too far for my comfort, she pats me on the hand and tells me not to worry. That house doesn’t have dogs, Sophie will be fine. She then tells me that a few nights ago she cooked a whole chicken for her family. When they were done with the chicken there were parts that they didn’t eat such as the stomach and the bones. At the time she had thought to give them to her little Sophie but it was too late in the night to come knock on my door so she threw them away. She then asked me if Sophie would have liked them!!! It was honestly the sweetest thing ever. I have to admit the way to my heart is through my dog. If you are good to her I will love you forever!! So anyways I thought about all this tonight because I saw this article:Anyone who knows anything about me knows I have a passion for dogs. I love dogs of all kinds, even the mean stray ones. I really believe a dog is truly good unless trained to be otherwise, and by trained I mean kicked, and ignored and abandoned. Part of my work in the Peace Corps is to introduce and educate my community about Americans and one of the ways I do this is by taking Sophie with me everywhere. I am not so comfortable when people in my community ask me in depth questions about my own life, but I light up any time I get to share about Sophie. And through time Sophie has turned out to be quite a popular pup, I even think it's getting to her head a bit, as now she barks at me whenever I am not paying attention to her. Every day I take Sophie outside my building and let her run off some pent up anxiety that she gets from me leaving her at home while I work. While many people see her and run the other way, she has made friends with a lot of people from the building. Most notably the bottom floor neighbor. This neighbor just adores Sophie, and always comes out to say hello to her. She brings her water when she is thirsty and bread when she wants to spoil her. Well the cutest thing happened today. As Sophie was off in the distance smelling things and doing whatever it is puppies do, she looked up and saw my little old neighbor. She bounded across rocks and debris and came running up to the neighbor. “Sophik, my little favorite” the women greets Sophie with a pet on the head. She then tells Sophie to go run off. When Sophie gets too far for my comfort, she pats me on the hand and tells me not to worry. That house doesn’t have dogs, Sophie will be fine. She then tells me that a few nights ago she cooked a whole chicken for her family. When they were done with the chicken there were parts that they didn’t eat such as the stomach and the bones. At the time she had thought to give them to her little Sophie but it was too late in the night to come knock on my door so she threw them away. She then asked me if Sophie would have liked them!!! It was honestly the sweetest thing ever. I have to admit the way to my heart is through my dog. If you are good to her I will love you forever!! So anyways I thought about all this tonight because I saw this article: http://www.foreignpolicy.com/articles/2011/05/04/war_dog?page=0,0I can't wait to print these out and use them in a class next year about animals.

Last Monday I was told we were going to have the day off. It’s an Armenian holiday I was told, but no one ever told me which holiday it was. Monday morning my counterpart called me and told me to be at the park by 11 am to meet all the teachers. So I got Sophie ready for a walk thinking my school was going to have a small picnic. When I stepped outside my door I noticed that a lot of people were heading in the same direction so I decided to follow them. Turns out they were going to the park too, and that they all knew a shortcut that no one had ever told me about… good to know.

When I got to the park I immediately ran into a group of my students who told me where our teachers were. There were a couple hundred people standing by a monument. I walked over just in time for the Mayors speech. What he said I have no idea because I was trying to make sure that Sophie didn’t scare any small children. Soon dancing began and I was trying my best to get a view when an official looking man grabbed my arm and gently lead me to the front of the crowd to watch the performance.

After a few songs and dances we were told to move to the main stage for the concert. I still really had no idea what Victory day was but I figured it must have something to do with Russia since most of the songs were in Russian and the monument we were standing near was also in Russian.

The rest of the day was filled with Armenian folk dancing and music. It was a great way to spend my day off in my community and to make some new little friends!

I never really understood what the day was until I went home and googled it! Thank God for Google where it states the following: Victory Day[1] or 9 May marks the capitulation of Nazi Germany to the Soviet Union in the Second World War (also known as the Great Patriotic War in the Soviet Union and all post-Soviet states)

a beautiful armenian folk dance... makes me want to learn how!!!

This little boy sat in front of me the whole time. While he kept staring at me he never seemed to notice Sophie on my lap until an hour into the show. At which point he yells "pop that english girl has a dog on her lap" The popik must of though he was making up stories cause he shooed him away. The boy moved closer to me and called his cousins over. They began to talk about me and Sophie. My counterpart interrupted them and asked how he knew I was an English Girl. He said because I was speaking English and I didn't look like one of them. I told them I am not English I am American and they came over to pet Sophie. All of sudden the pop yells out, Get away from the dog it will bite you" I answer in Armenian that she doesn't bite. He looks at me for a long time and then asks the son who I am. He tells him that I am an English girl....

My co-workers daughters are both in this little dance number. When the oldest one saw me she yelled out Maam Miss Alyssa is here and began to jump up and down! You can say I have developed a soft spot for her!! She is in the first grade at our school and she always runs up to hug me every morning! Maybe she can teach me to dance!

This little girl was as cute as could be so I turned around and she smiled at me so I snapped a picture of her!

Me and my counterpart and Sophie! She watches Sophie whenever I leave town and she thinks Sophie is adorable but she is afraid to touch her.

These little boys were awesome!

Peace Corps has a program called Coverdell World Wise schools that it likes it's volunteers to participate in. Basically this is a program where a class from the US connects with a volunteer. The premises of the arrangement are left completely open to the volunteer and corresponding teacher. A while back I had emailed all the teachers I knew in America to see who wanted to be a part of this program and a girlfriend from college Tawny replied that she would love too. We were both so excited for our students to be able to learn from each other.

Well today I just got my first batch of letters from Mrs. Paino's class!! I am so excited to share them with my students and have them write back immediately! Kids are so cute, and I have been cracking up reading the letters. I thought I'd share one with all of you.

Dear Friend,

Hello Friend! My name is Judy Lee and I am living in America but I was born in Korea. I am in 5th grade and my teacher's name is Mrs. Paino.

My favorite thing about school is that you get to learn a lot of facts and that I get to make good friends. My class just celebrated Valentines day on February 14th, 2011. I passed out chocolates to my class and I think they liked it! I hope so =) Maybe next year I would be able to send you one, too! We are going to celebrate Read Across America day on March 2nd. It is a day that you celebrate Dr. Seuss' birthday and read books.

What do you learn at school? What do you like to do with your family?

Your American Friend

Judy L

Ok, so honestly isn't that so adorable! I love how kids are so excited to learn about other people and share about themselves. I also love the fact that all the letters talk about Read Across America, as I helped the children to celebrate Dr. Seuss' birthday here too! Wait, so does that mean Read Across America day went global this year?!?! It's kind of exciting.

Thank you Tawny for sending the letters, sorry they took so long to get here, turns out we had a huge mail problem with anything that was sent in March! I promise your batch of letters will get to you before school ends, or so I hope!

A few weeks ago I was invited to go to two Spring performances. One from the music school and another from the kindergarten. I have to say that around 80 percent of the time I can forget that everyone is staring at me and I almost feel as if I blend in, but not at these two events. At both events I have to say I felt almost like a celebrity. Everyone stared at me as I walked in, and all the kids cheered or jumped up and down and were excited that I was there to watch them. The truth is my favorite little girls were preforming and I was only really there to watch them

Everyone has been talking about Easter for a few months now, so I was expecting some huge ordeal. A month before Easter time I was practically begging my counterpart to invite me to her Easter dinner =) And by begging I mean dropping hints that possibly only Americans would understand. Finally one day she was talking about her Tatik making the trip from Gyumri to Spitak for Easter and I told her I would love to meet her Tatik, because I had heard so much about her. Finally my counterpart either caught on, or the idea just came to her but she told me I should spend Easter with her. Mission accomplished!

A week before Easter I began to think of different dishes I could make to bring to my counterparts for the dinner party. Every day I would come to school with a new idea, but when I would run the idea by my counterpart she didn’t seem too excited. One day I finally asked her if it was appropriate to bring a dish, she explained to me that it is not so common for Armenians to do, so I explained to her that it’s something we usually do in America. I think once I told her this, her hospitality didn’t feel threatened and so she was more excited about the idea. I decided to bring Lemmon bars! I have never made them before but I had a craving for them, plus I have never tasted anything like them here in Armenia.

So the day of the event, I wore my most colorful dress, and nicest shoes, which isn’t saying much as I didn’t really bring nice cloths to Armenia. I Also tied a cute little pink bow on Sophie’s neck. I cannot tell you how many compliments Sophie got as we were walking through the city center to my counterparts house. We were quite the Easter parade!! When I got to my counterpart’s house I left Sophie with her dog and walked in. My counterpart was nowhere to be seen and there were 5 women sitting on the couch who I had never met. I didn’t really know what to do so I said hello and sat down. No one really talked to me, I think they were very confused as to who I was. Finally my counterpart walked out and exclaimed to her grandmother “tat this is the American I told you about”. The tatik looked so surprised, turns out she had no clue and assumed I was just a different looking Armenian, score one point for me! She immediately demanded that I come over to her so she could kiss me. She told me her name is Hayastan… which means Armenia. A pretty cool name I think. We talked a bit and they introduced me to a little boy named Hyke. I believe he was five years old. They told him I was learning Armenian and he came over and brought me his text book. He isn’t even in kindergarten yet but he was reviewing all the letters with me. We became fast best friends.

Soon it was time for our meal. We all sat down to eat but there was no room for our hostess. Not surprisingly she refused to sit, the whole time she walked around serving people and making sure everyone had what they needed. As I have learned this is pretty common in Armenia, and the hostess never seems to mind. Just another way Armenians show great hospitality to their guests. The first order of business was to play the egg game, I am not sure if it has a name. Basically everyone gets a bolied egg that is dyed, just like in America. You then hold your egg while someone else crashed their egg into it. You want your egg to be the egg that comes out not cracked. I have to say I was feeling pretty confident when I got a green Jesus sticker egg. I was pretty sure that even though I had never played the game and didn’t know if there was a strategy to it, that Jesus was on my side =) And as it turns out he was… for awhile anyways. I went four of five rounds without a single crack in my egg. I was so excited, as tradition has it that whoever is the last man standing with an un-cracked egg, is the person who will receive the most luck in the following year. Then cute little adorable Hyke came to me and wanted to play. The truth is I had already seen him crack an egg or two, so I knew he was a little cheater, but I thought there was no way he was going to beat me. And then he did! My precious egg was cracked. I guess if you had to lose, it’s best to lose to someone whose whole face lights up when they beat you. Soon it was only Hyke and tatik left. Tatik crashed her egg into Hykes and sent cracks all throughout. I have to admit that a little part of me laughed, I mean the kid did cheat, and who better to beat a little kid than a little old lady? And so came an end to our egg wars and the eating began.

As it turns out Easter in Armenia isn’t so different from Easter in America. We ate some pretty good salads and what is called Easter Pilaf which is sweet rice with raisins in it. I actually think the pilaf was the highlight of the meal, though there were many other delicious foods. Soon the meal was done and coffee was brought out. At this point my counterpart brought over four different cakes. She didn’t bring out my lemon bars, but I didn’t want to say anything in case there was a reason. Everyone wanted me to try each type of cake and even though I was stuffed I didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings. After coffee we sat around talking for a bit. Mostly I just listened, but when I laughed a joke they realized I understood more than I spoke so they began to ask me questions. Soon my counterpart came out of the kitchen where she was washing dishes and asked me if I would like to take a walk to the church with her cousin. As it turns out her cousin who was to my best guess about 24, understood a little bit of English and had overheard me tell her earlier that I had really wanted to go to the church service in the morning but was too nervous to go alone. Although it was very sweet, it made me too nervous to go and my stomach was honestly killing me, so I declined. I looked up and saw him waiting in the kitchen and felt horrible. But this guy had more than one trick up his sleeve. About fifteen minutes later little adorable Hyke came to me and asked if I would like to go with him and his uncle to the church. It was usually just the kind of suckering that would get to me. I am helpless when it comes to telling adorable kids no. But at this point I was feeling pretty sick, so they went to the church without me. As they left a tray of fish was brought out. Turns out dinner wasn’t over yet! I sat for awhile and declined to eat. Soon another round of coffee came out and this time my lemon bars were brought out. Everyone who tried them said they loved them, but I’m not so convinced.

I excused myself and told them I wasn’t feeling well and had to get home. I thanked everyone for an excellent Easter and left taking Sophie with me. As I walked through the city center the church was playing beautiful Easter music. As I approached the road of the church, which also happens to be the road to my house, I saw Mkirtich walking with little Hyke. He approached me and asked where I was going in English. I could tell he was really shy. I told him I wasn’t feeling well and was walking home so he asked if he could walk me. I honestly have to say it was the sweetest thing ever. I can’t recall an American boy ever asking to walk me home. So we began to walk and I could tell he was searching his brain for his unpracticed English to come back to him. I decided to let him off the hook and asked him where he was from in Armenian. He was so relieved! He began speaking to me in Armenian asking all about me. He honestly was such a sweetheart. Soon Hyke aware that he wasn’t the center of attention put himself in between us and held both our hands. It was adorable! I thought that he would walk me only up the road but he insisted on walking me all the way to my building. As we were walking a girl he knew approached us. She looked shocked to see him, and they began to have a very awkward conversation. It was painful to see how shy he was, or embarrassed, I’m not really sure. I could tell she was thinking why the hell are you all the way in Spitak from Gyumri with this American girl. He quickly said goodbye. When we got to my building he told me it wasn’t good that I lived alone, and that I must get sad. I told him I had Sophie so I didn’t get so sad. He laughed a little and invited me to come visit him in Gyumri. I told him I would and he made me promise. It was all very sweet, and I have to say it was nice for once not to be the one with a red face.

The one thing I will say that Armenian men have that American men don’t have, is their love for children. Armenian men are so affectionate with kids! It’s the sweetest thing to watch them dote on them! It was adorable to watch my counterpart’s cousin take care of his nephew. I even had a lesson once in my 10th form where I taught them the phrase to look forward to and then asked them what they are looking forward to. The worst behaved student of mine stood up and said that he looked forward to being a dad one day soon. I didn’t really believe what I was hearing so I asked if he was telling me the truth, and he said yes. I looked at the class for help and they all said that yes, he really did talk about how he wanted to be a father one day and all the boys agreed that they took couldn’t wait to be fathers one day. I just cannot imagine American boys saying that, and I think it was actually really charming to hear. I have to say, I now have a soft spot for that student even though he is one of the worse behaved students at our school!!

On and off for the past two months or so I have been without internet due to some of the financial hardships that all Peace Corps volunteers agree to endure. What it has come down to, for me is internet or heat?!? You see Peace Corps only pays a higher utility bill for its volunteers until February, though technically they would claim that they pay us the higher rate in March as well, but as common sense tells us money given at the beginning of March would pay for February Utilities and not March utilities… Anyways the point is we are still getting snow in Spitak on an off and it is the end of April, so obviously when our utility stipend goes from 20,000 to only 12,000 and there is still snow on the ground, sacrifices have to be made. So I chose to cut my internet.

Weeks without the internet were difficult but I listened to music and watched some movies and listened to ITUNES University lectures from Berkeley and UCLA about the history of ancient Rome and Israel. All in all the sacrifice was most likely more of a strain for my family than it was for me. However over a week ago when my computer broke down, and my IT friend told me I most likely crashed my hard drive, I think I finally became a real Peace Corps volunteer.

My whole world became books and social interactions. I could not even turn my computer on, and after two days, my Ipod died. My life became silent and pretty boring. All I had for entertainment was Sophie and my books. In three rainy days I quickly burned through three books! I took Sophie on long walks and played ball with her at the nearest thing Spitak has to a public park, a memorial statue. As I threw the ball and she fetched it, small crowds began to gather and watch us. Sophie, not being much of a people dog would immediately stop playing and come sit on my lap. People would try to encourage her to fetch again. They would take the ball themselves and throw it, and seeing that it had no effect would mostly walk off. Once alone again Sophie and I would continue our game of fetch. When Sophie would lose interest, I would take out a book and read as she would smell around and chase cats. My days all began to blend into one. I found myself not knowing what to do with myself.

That is when I realized I could work more. As it is I only stay late on Mondays and Thursdays for my clubs. Well out of boredom I decided that I would start a vocabulary word building club for my third graders. I asked the class if they would like to stay Wednesdays after class to play some fun games and practice their English words. They all agreed happily. So I have been spending my Wednesdays with my tiniest little English students. We play around the world, jeopardy, bingo, and many other made up games that have no words. I have also begun to teach them word families to help enrich their reading skills. As the bell rang after our very first club, I kid you not, the kids begged me to stay for one more hour!! They absolutely love their English club, and I have to say I actually love it too! The best part is that after the club the kids all wait for me so that they can walk with me home. They actually live in the opposite direction that I do, but for whatever reason they love walking me part of the way home. I have a feeling it is because it’s the only opportunity they get to speak Armenian with me. They ask me questions about my dog Sophie, America and my family, all in Armenian and only on our walks home, do I answer them in Armenian. Sometimes they giggle because I have a horrible accent, or I say something wrong, but most of the time we understand each other.

I have to say that not having a computer at times was really difficult, but it did force me to work a little harder which in turn showed me how much fun little kids are and reminded me how much I love teaching! It also gave me another opportunity to show Armenians how amazing animals can be. There wasn’t a person who walked by Sophie and I playing that didn’t stop to watch. Everywhere I go with her I hear how good she is and how people want a dog like her. I am happy to say that in the recent days I have seen on two separate occasions how Sophie has affected my community. One day as I was leaving school a group of boys were waiting outside the school gate, with them was a little dog wearing a collar made of leather and with a leather strap attached to it as a leash. They were taking their little dog for a walk!! This is not something that is common here at all, in fact I’m almost positive from all the attention I get, that I am the first person they have ever seen walking a dog around on a leash. A few days after that, as I was walking to school I saw a puppy with a collar on. He seemed to be following an old lady. I stopped to watch as the old lady walked across the street into the hanoot and held the door open for the dog to follow. I stood on the street amazed. After she made her purchases as she was walking out of the store the dog jumped up on to her. I cringed a little expecting to see the dog get kicked, as that is the usual response for this kind of behavior, but instead I saw the little woman bend over and cup the puppies little face. She then reached into her pocket and pulled out a little piece of bread for the pup and they continued on walking home… I don’t know how to express to you how unusual this behavior is for this area. Usually tatiks scold me for petting dogs, as they are seen as dirty. Even when they know Sophie is clean, they tell me I shouldn’t pick her up or I will get sick. While everyone in Spitak treats Sophie with great care and respect, I have never seen them be kind to other dogs, and I have defiantly never seen a situation where they treated their dog like a pet rather than a guard dog meant only to be chained up and bark if someone comes near…. So all in all this has helped me to see that even when I feel that I am not doing enough here in Spitak, the way I live my life does have an impact here. Sometimes it’s very annoying to be watched all the time, and for people to know everything I do, but the other side of that is that sometimes people can learn things that they have not got the opportunity to learn living in such a confined culture. I’ve even had a few people ask me if I will breed Sophie because they want little Sophie puppies of their own!

As much as I try, I just haven’t been inspired to write about my trip to Istanbul. You would think that since I had the time of my life that I would have so many stories to share, but I the thing is every time I try I end up erasing it all because I feel it is inadequate. The truth is I could never do justice to the trip with my words. The experience was one of the best of my life and only Ashley and Darren can fully understand everything that we experienced. So I’ll just move on.

Life for the past few weeks in Spitak has been exceptionally quiet. Imagine how your life would be without any sounds… not even electrical hums from a tv or computer. I have had no internet this month and have used my computer very little. Back home the sound of stillness would drive me nuts! If ever I was home alone I would turn on the tv, even while I read, just to hear sound. Here there is nothing but the sound of Sophie’s epic battle with her favorite stuffed bear.

So imagine how startled I was the other day when I heard a knock on my door while I was taking a bath. I tried to ignore the knock, but after a few minutes of it not going away I got dressed and took a look through the peep hole. Outside a neighbor who I have never talked to was waiting for me. I opened the door, honestly wishing she would go away. Armenian neighbors like to find something to complain about, and trust me there is always something they can find. I once got a complaint because I hung my laundry at the same time as the neighbor below me. She complained that my cloths dripped onto hers… well what was I suppose to do? Apparently if I had done my laundry the correct way there would be no water dripping… anyways the point is I am not an Armenian and am not use to people knocking on my door at all hours and coming into my house whenever they would like, so I was not very happy to see her.

When I opened the door she asked me if I understand all Armenian, I told her no I don’t understand very much. She went on as if I said I was 100 percent fluent. She told me that she had a friend that lived in a building in Spitak that would like to meet me. The friend wants me to come over to her house because she has a daughter that studies in Michigan and American families are always so kind to her daughter so she would like to repay that kindness. I told her that would be fine. She just stood there as if waiting for something. Now? I asked her. Yes now she said. As it was 8 pm and I was already in my pjs I explained to her that I was busy and had things to do. So she grabbed me by the hand and took me into her house. Armenian women can be very very pushy.

Once at her house she called the women on the phone. Speaking Armenian on the phone is the most difficult because you cannot rely on hand gestures, but I gave it my best anyways. The lady asked me over for dinner the following day. I agreed and went back to my house as my neighbor called after me telling me that I am alone too often and should come to her house when I was home alone. It is not good to be alone, she told me. I told her I really like to be alone but that I would come over sometime. Armenians have no concept of how nice it is to be alone. In fact the number one complaint I hear about Americans is that they go home after work and lock their doors. Neighbors don’t come over for coffee and they don’t eat dinner with anyone. How can you eat alone they ask me.

So today as I was walking home from school I was thinking about my dinner date with dread. I mean being a Peace Corps volunteer is the most awkward experience ever, so I am use to it in a way, but imagine how weird it would be if someone you didn’t know called you to have dinner at their house for no reason. It’s a strange experience. As I was lost in my thoughts I heard someone call out my name. I looked but did not see anyone I recognized. I kept walking. Again I heard my name and this time I saw a woman who I had never met. In a way it’s not unusual for people I have never to know my name, but it is unusual for them to call out to me. Often people I’ve never met will call out Sophie’s name, because everyone in Spitak knows my dog, but most only know me as the American.

The lady ran over to me and explained that she was the lady I had talked to on the phone the other day. She had just come from the store where she had bought stuff to make pizza and chicken for dinner tonight. She showed me her house and told me to come back at five. So much for calling and canceling. This meant that I would have to go.

So at five I showed up at the building that she had pointed out to me. As I approached I looked up and saw a bunch of women standing on a balcony staring at me. I walked up the stairs to her floor and just about every neighbor was standing at the top waiting to meet me. I guess they all wanted to see the American. One asked me where my Sophie was… it’s a very strange feeling to know that everyone knows everything about you. I guess people in my Long Beach neighborhood knew Lucca’s name, but that was mostly kids and I did walk Lucca on the same path for three times a day for three years. But this is different. My hostess brought me into her house and welcomed me in English. She apologized for not having a better grasp on the English language. She took my coat and brought me into a living room where she told me about her two daughters who both speak perfect English and who always chide her for not speaking it. Her youngest daughter lives in America where she is a student and will most likely never return to Armenia to live. The oldest daughter lives in Yerevan at the moment but in September will move to Texas to work. The she set a huge table of food as if all her neighbors were coming to eat, but it was only the two of us. I haven’t ate like that since New Years! All in all the food was great and it was actually nice to have a little bit of company. I really have become a hermit up here in Spitak, and I actually like it, but it is nice to have dinner at peoples house from time to time!

Day two in Istanbul is where I believe the magic began! My day started at 4:30 am when the call to prayer was sounded. Not being able to get back to sleep I got ready for an early day. By 7 am we were out and ready to see the sights! But not before a Starbucks run. The addiction was back in my blood that quickly! After having Carmel Macchiatos we headed to the Haggia Sofia. Along the way we stopped and bought beautiful scarves for about ten dollars each, which we thought was a steal until we later saw them for about five dollars! Eeeya.

As we walked we ran into all kinds of things we didn’t even expect to find. There was a beautiful green and gold dome that was just sitting in the middle of a construction site. I still don’t really know anything about it other than its inscription said it was the fountain of Wilhelm. As we continued along to the Haggia Sofia, I was surprised by the lack of people at the museum. We walked all around the building taking in the beauty of the exterior when we noticed the gates were locked. A Turkish man saw us in our confusion and came over to explain to us that the Ayasofya was closed on Mondays. A quick note: when the Sofia was commissioned by the Emperor Justinian it was named the Haggia Sofia, meaning Holy Wisdom. In the 15th century Sultan Mehmet laid siege on the church and took it over. He converted it into a mosque and renamed it Aya Sofia. I still choose to call it Haggia Sofia because that is the Christian name that it was given and also that is the name it bore when it was the most beautiful cathedral in the world.

So not able to see the Sofia we walked away and thought of new plans for the day. As we were standing on the sidewalk discussing our plans another Turkish man approaches us. Are you from Canada he asks us. We quickly tell him that no we are Americans, and he then asks Darren if he is a Mormon missionary. We laugh. He explains to us that he loves Americans and loves to practice his speaking skills with them. He asks us what our plans are and we tell him we are not sure. He then tells us to follow him and he will show us where the Basilica Cistern is. We agree and as we follow the man begins speaking about some shop he owns that is on the other side of the cistern. (This should have been a warning sign right?!) He tells us we must see the cistern and that when we are done we can meet him at his shop. We thank him for showing us the directions thinking we probably will never see him again.

As we walked underground to enter the Cistern our eyes have to adjust to the darkness. The Cistern was built in the 6th century for water filtration. It’s another one of Emperor Justinian’s beauties. When you enter you are amazed by the enormity of the columns and the cascading lights that give off an orange glow. I was so humbled to stand in a place that was built centuries before I was born. I am certain that it is the most ancient place I have ever been to.

As we excited the Basilica Cistern the Turkish man who had showed us where to go was waiting at the door for us. He explained that he didn’t want us to get lost on the way to his shop and he invited us to follow him for some Turkish tea. As we were following him Darren said something to me about this not being a good idea because he will try to sell us something. At the time I didn’t really see the harm in it because I had absolutely no interest in buying Turkish Carpets, or any carpet for that matter.

When we arrived at the shop we were seated at a coffee table and hot apple tea was brought to us. The tea was served in strange tiny tornado glasses, not tea cups. Usually I am not a fan of fruity tea but I have to say Turkish apple tea is fantastic!! One of my biggest regrets is that I did not buy any to take back to Armenia with me. While we drank tea we asked our new friend all of our questions about Turkey and its culture. To be honest it was actually really good conversation. I began to consider Amar our new friend. Then men began to bring carpets out, only for us to look at they said. So we looked and when asked for our opinions we told him the ones we liked. Then he would order more of the kinds we liked to be brought out. He left them to just stare at us as he ordered the traditional Turkish tea to be brought to us. He asked us questions about our life, what we do, where we live, why we are visiting, the normal questions you ask people when you meet. Soon the same tiny tornado class filled with traditional Turkish tea was brought out to us. As we sipped on our tea he asked the one question that always throws me off, even though by now I should be used to it. Are you single? Darren explains that he has a girlfriend and then he turns to look at me. I know looking back that the easiest thing to do is lie and say no, but for whatever reason I have never been able to lie on my feet like that. So instead I just laughed and told him I am single. Of course this means he immediately singles in on me. I don’t think I have ever heard more ridiculous lines than I heard in Turkey.

“Yeah I can feel that. That is why I am drawn to you. I like everything about you. The way you walk, your sweet voice and your hunting boots. Do you hunt?” All three of us erupt with laughter. “Do I hunt? No never” and we keep laughing. He continues on about how he likes American girls, the whole time smiling at me, super creepy! Then “How many camels would you sell your friend to me for?” Ashley without even missing a beat “Oh I don’t know, maybe 12” 12 CAMELS! My best friend in the world is willing to sell me for 12 camels!!! They make a deal and it is done, I am sold for a measly 12 camels!

As we finish our tea our friend begins to pitch his sales to us. He makes us come touch the carpets and tells us about how well they are made and what kind of discount he could give us. He tells us the carpets make for a great dowry and of course we all laugh hysterically! After about two hours of chatting with him we begin to feel bad that we have no money to buy a carpet. We begin to think of him as a friend who’s been so hospitable toward us. So when all is said and done we each bought a carpet and ash and I were also give two free pillow cases because I asked for them. Our new friend demanded that we stay for one more Turkish treat and Turkish coffee was brought out. We drank our coffee and made dinner plans with our new friend. He promised to take us to the best seafood restaurant in all of Istanbul.

After we said our goodbyes we headed back to the hostel to leave our bags. As we were walking we began to notice that all of a sudden we were targets for every sales man in all of Istanbul. “Excuse me, excuse me, yes we have carpets” they shouted at us from every shop we passed. All of a sudden it became obvious to us that they were targeting us because we were carrying carpet bags which means we are pretty much suckers! We quickly decide to go back to the hostel to drop the bags off but before we do Darren stops at a shop to buy water. The shop is like a target of Istanbul, it has everything in it and for cheap. It also has the carpets we just bought at a way cheaper price!! Albeit they were not the same exact carpets but they were very very similar. We were completely suckered!! Sufficed to say, we never made it back to that shop for our dinner date. We just weren’t up for being the biggest suckers in all of Istanbul.

Feeling a little bit angry and pretty stupid, we made our way to the Blue Mosque. The Blue Mosque is absolutely stunning from the outside.. It was exactly what we needed after the day we had. Ash and I covered our heads and we all took off our shoes and entered the visitors entrance. We then walked into the building and fell silent. Great beauty in the world has a way of making you speechless and pensive. We took a few pictures of the tiled and golden interior and then we just sat and let the peace of the place fall over us and calm our souls. I think we ended up staying for almost an hour, just sitting and watching silently.

After we left the Blue Mosque enchanted, we made our way to the Galata tower where we took an elevator up to the height of the tower which overlooked the city. Istanbul is truly a beautiful place, and we are truly blessed to have the experience that we had. I think we all went home that night with the same thought in our minds… Istanbul is magical.

I do have to say, even though we were ripped off, I wouldn’t take back a minute of my time at Amars shop. We had such a great cultural exchange and were introduced to such an important Turkish custom, tea time. All in all it was a great time, besides, how many people can say their best friend sold them for 12 camels?! Oh and there is the fact that I now have a lovely dowry!

Day one in beautiful Istanbul Turkey is a bit difficult to remember. It seems so long ago. Most of the day was spent waiting to check into our hostel, the Tulip Guest House. We walked around our small touristy neighborhood inside the Sultanhmet district. It is very difficult to get a real feel for Istanbul in this neighborhood because everything has been catered to foreign tourists. As we walked around we spotted the Haggia Sofia and the Blue Mosque. Both were absolutely inspiring from the outside but we did not want to venture in until we met up with Darren. So we found a Starbucks and ordered Chi lattes. You have no idea how amazingly comforting it is to be inside a Starbucks after an 11 month hiatus. All I can say is that it was blissful and every last sip was well appreciated.

At about 2:30 we finally met up with Darren, my friend who lives in China. While planning my trip to Istanbul I began to get a little bit nervous about Ash and I travelling alone. The two of us seem to be targets to Armenian males, and I didn’t want this to be a problem in Istanbul. So at the suggestion of my sister I invited our friend Darren who has been living in China for the past few years. At first he was a bit tentative, and I wasn’t sure if he was going to come, but like my sister said, Darren can’t resist an adventure and he found his way all the way from China to Istanbul.

As Ashley and I were waiting for him to meet us at our hostel we decided to go get a bag of chips to fend off our starving bellies! Plus chips are very rare in Armenia, and even when you do find them they are disgusting knock offs. As I walked outside of my hostel I noticed an Orange sneaker peaking out from a bench. I couldn’t see anything but the sneaker. I peaked my head over the doorway and there was Darren sitting on the bench quietly waiting for us. Poor guy had been lost all morning trying to find us!! I was so happy to see him. The first person I have seen from my pre-Armenian life. It felt so good to get a hug from home!

It was about three and none of us had eaten so we decided to find a place to eat. Darren had gotten a recommendation from a Turkish foodie so we decided to find it. It was off to Taksim square, the strip mall in Istanbul. When we stepped out of the cab into the square Ash and I were in awe. First there were American stores everywhere! The Gap, Clinique, and even MAC! I immediately wanted to shop and to be honest I did. I have needed an eye cream from mac for awhile now but I know how expensive it is so I didn’t want to ask my family to buy it. Seeing it in Istanbul made me so unbelievably happy. I think no matter how long I am out of the country for, I will always love to shop! The other reason we were in awe was because of the sheer amount of people. Armenia is a small country with a tiny population. I never see crowds of people here. Even in Yerevan the biggest crowd is about 100 people. Well there were thousands of people in Taksim square. We could hardly walk it was so busy. Being around that many people after such a long period of isolation was a bit scary and jarring.

When we finally found our restaurant I was a little bit nervous because there were not many people inside. Darren handed the waiter a list of food that the man had wrote for us to order. Soon plate of levash, yougurt dip and cheese were coming out then lamb and rice and vegetables. The waiter also came to the table with a bottle of vodka and a bottle of mineral water. He poured the vodka first and then added water. I forget what the drink was called but it was basically a black licorice concoction that was delicious. Everything we ate was so good, and some of it was even similar to Armenian food. We stayed for a long time and the Turkish waiters seemed to love having us there.

After eating we made our way over to a coffee club/ hooka bar. We drank Turkish tea and smoked hookah. I have actually never really tried it before so it was a first for me and I have to say I don’t really think I feel the need to ever do it again. But I was in Turkey so I figured it was the appropriate place to see what it was about. The club that we were in was full of locals playing backgammon and chess and listening to Turkish pop music and drinking Turkish tea. It was a really awesome place and the music was fantastic, from that moment on Turkish music had a fan in me.

All in all our first day was pretty restful and uneventful except for the fact that we did witness a Kurdish protest raging down the center of the square, but even that seemed to be peaceful. We were back in our hostel beds by 9 pm and fast asleep until 4 am when the call to prayer was sounded. I woke up to speakers blaring out music and not really remembering where I was. Quickly I got up and started to dress and make my way outside, only to see that it was still pitch black. I was so disorientated!! The funny thing is no one else woke up!! Every morning around 4 am I was woken up by the prayers but no one else even stirred!!! By the last day of our trip I was waking up five minutes before the prayers ready and waiting for it. You would think as a non Muslim I would be annoyed by this, but I actually found it to be very lovely and a little enchanting. It reminded me each day to pray and to be thankful for what I have. It also left me in awe of the devotion of some Muslims. I can’t imagine getting a 4 am wake up call, showering and running for the nearest mosque just to return home to sleep for an hour and then go to work.

There is nothing like stepping off of a plane onto a taxi and driving into a whole new world to make you realize how blessed you are. Istanbul has been a trip of a lifetime for me, two days after I have returned home, I am still sitting here in awe of her. It’s not that I am in awe of her beauty, as I have seen many beautiful things in my life, but it’s more that I am in awe of her soul. She is spiritual yet modern, Eastern and Western, coastal, free loving, embracing, awe inspiring, historical, kind, caring, multi cultural, empathetic, musical, colorful and distinctively her own. Words cannot express my new found love for Istanbul and I can only hope that one day I will be lucky enough to be able to call it home, even if it is only for awhile.

First I want to clear one thing up. I think in America we have such a skewed and distorted vision of what Turkey is and who her people are. I know that I approached her timid and unsure, having heard bad things about her culture. .. I know that many of my family members were worried about me being there. All I can say is that I have never felt safer overseas. Turkish people are beautiful, friendly and spiritual. Lost in the city with only a confusing map to guide you? You need not worry; some amazingly kind Turkish gentleman will stumble upon you and guide you to where you are going with a smile on his face, making you believe he is more happy to help you than you are relieved to not be lost and stranded. The Turkish soul is a kind, happy soul. The happiness of the Turkish people is palatable. Smiles are not saved only for friends as they are in Armenia, no they are shared with the world because how can one hide his happiness? Just being around Turkish people made me feel ten pounds lighter and free. They do not wish to share their troubles with you, instead they wish to celebrate their happiness with you. As a good Turkish friend that I made told me “Shit is in the past. You have to let it go if you want people to see you have a good soul.”

My decision to come to Istanbul was made with ease and decisiveness. In a way it has always been a part of my soul. When I was a little girl I loved nothing more than to shut myself in my room and read books. The books that I feel the most in love with spoke of foreign lands that a little girl growing up in poor Azusa California can only imagine. No one in my family had ever travelled, so everything I learned about the world came from books. My favorites were about the Roman Empire. I loved mixes of history and fiction. I would even credit my interest and good grades in history to my love of reading. Most of what I learned in school about the Roman Empire I had already read about in books. They of course were often fictional so they constantly left me in wonder. Looking back to my past, the best books anyone ever gave me were picture books of Italy. When I was little there was no internet and this was the only way I could ever imagine seeing the world. I would look through the books and pray to God that he would someday allow me to experience it with my own eyes. As time passed and I graduated college, all my friends travelled abroad and I sat at home looking through their pictures with a jealous heart. I began to believe I would never have the money to see the beauty of the world with my own eyes.

But now I am here and have the opportunity of a life time. My trip to Istanbul has helped me to see that the fairy tales and histories I read as a little girl are still such a big part of my heart and that my heart will not be happy until I have fulfilled my dreams. This trip to Istanbul has opened up my mind and my heart and restored my inner peace. I can’t wait to share some of my stories with you! But for now some pictures will have to do!

I had such a great day at my school today! It started off as a normal day, I got up at 7:30 am, drank tea and got ready for school. As I was getting ready my brother popped up on instant message! I have been missing my brother a lot and have been trying to contact him so it was awesome to start my day off with him.

As I walked to school I could feel a bit of warm sunshine on my face. For the past few weeks all the volunteers around Armenia have been speaking of this thing called spring, but we have not felt it in Spitak. While others were packing up their heaters, snow was still falling in Spitak, and I was secretly cursing the others…. Actually in all honestly I didn’t think winter was so bad. Yes it was cold, but it was livable. This California girl survived her first winter pretty well I’d say! Anyways the last three days the snow in Spitak has finally begun to melt and spring is on its way in.

I dropped Sophie off at my counterpart’s house, as I do every day, it’s pretty much her doggie day care. I go to work and she plays with my counterparts dog Micky. This way she never gets lonely and I don’t feel the need to rush home from school.

When I got to school I found out that two of our teachers were celebrating birthdays, which meant lots of candy and cake, so much for my pre-vacation diet! Then it was time for my first class, 4th grade. My 4th graders are angles, they really are. I never have a problem with them, and they seem to understand just about everything I say, which is amazing for second year English students. Today’s lesson was a review. As we went over the old vocabulary all the children fought to shout out the answers. They all remembered the words perfectly. For the past three weeks I have been teaching my classes without my counterpart because she had medical problems, so it meant so much to me that my kiddos actually absorbed what I taught them. It was almost like a test of my teaching skills and I couldn’t be more proud of them. Even better, my counterpart was so thrilled and went back to the teacher’s room raving about how well the kids learned while she was away! Also during my fourth grade class I gave the student of the month award to a very special student. This student is one of my reading club students. At the beginning of the year his mom invited me for tea and explained that her child was behind because he couldn’t read and she couldn’t help him. He didn’t know any of his letters, let alone grammar or vocabulary. He received mostly 4 out of 10 on every test. Now he is reading and doing so much better on his test, receiving mostly 6s or sometimes even 7s. When I called his name for student of the month, he began to look around the class. He thought that I was joking because no one has ever told him he was a good student before. When I explained that he won the award because of the effort he put in and the progress he made, all the students clapped for him and he looked so happy. During the break his class master told me that he was really proud and couldn’t wait to show his mom. These are moments that teachers live for! It made me so happy.

After an hour break I had my tenth grade class. The previous class I had given my students a project, which is not really something I have ever really been allowed to do before, but I decided to try it out anyways. I assigned my students to make a poster board answering the questions: who am I, what kind of person am I, and what do I look like. I told them that the best project would get candy. Any time I give an assignment I expect maybe ½ the class to do it, and only three or four of them to do it right. When I came to class I was surprised to see that most every student had a poster board. I asked for a volunteer to present their project and all of the students volunteered. I felt that it must have been some kind of joke, this just doesn’t happen here! The first girl to give her presentation completely rocked it. She impressed the hell out of me. Normally she is an average student but she always tries her best, and this time she really shined. My counterpart once again was blown away, and explained to me that this never happens and she can’t believe how well they did. One of my boys who always tells me he can’t do anything because he doesn’t know English, gave one of the best presentations. It made me so happy that they would all put so much effort into an English project. At the end of the class they even thanked me for giving them a fun assignment and asked if they could take me on a trip during Spring Break. Even though I will be in Istanbul for Spring Break, it made me so happy that I told them that I would bake all of them American cookies. I can’t wait to go to their class tomorrow morning with a huge plate of Snickerdoodles!!!

Finally at the end of school, I walked out to a group of my third graders who had been waiting for me. They asked if they could walk me home. It was so adorable! They grabbed my hands and led me down the street. I am so lucky to have been assigned to my school. I really do have the best students in the world and the best co-workers! I am so happy that spring is here. In two days I will leave for vacation and it will be awesome, but it’s great to know that I get to come back to a place where I am appreciated!

Last weekend I helped Spitak celebrate the birthday of one of the most beloved children’s book authors, Dr. Seuss! To many people this might seem a little crazy, even other Peace Corps volunteers gave me funny looks when describing my project. But since my college days of the good ole Pi Beta Phi, I have been part of literacy philanthropy. In the literacy world, Dr. Seuss’ birthday is a huge deal! Dr. Seuss is used to introduce children to the joy of reading and he serves as the perfect ambassador to literacy. Even after college, I volunteered for reading to kids and celebrated this national literacy day. So it seemed to me a good excuse to have a story time in Spitak.

This was my first event done outside of my school, with other children in my town. I worked with the Spitak YMCA staff and asked them for their permission to host this event, and they of course loved the idea and helped me see it to fruition. I invited other nearby PCV’s to participate as readers for the event, and was lucky to have Ashley, Sam, Greg and Joseph agree to come and help. The one snag in the event was that due to unfortunate circumstances I was not in Spitak for the week before the event. This meant that I did not get the chance to publicize the event as I had wanted to. I actually didn’t even get the chance to tell my own students about it!!

So the day of the event I was a little bit nervous. I had no idea if any kids would even show up! But as I was making my way down to the YMCA I noticed I had a following of school children behind me. As I stopped and waited for my friends to meet me, the children ran toward the YMCA with excitement. They were actually excited to attend a story time on a Saturday!!! It turns out that I had nothing to worry about. We had over 25 students attend the event and only 3 of them were my own students! Though I had originally hoped that the turnout would be closer to 40 students, I think it was a great turnout for my first event. I think the kids had a lot of fun and would love to come back! I love doing projects like this!! I hope that next school year I can have a story time for children once a month! I also hope to start some other programs at the YMCA. It is such a wonderful resource that we have here in Spitak! They have an awesome staff that really want to do exciting programs for the youth.

The first thing that I saw when I came to Spitak was a grocery store. At the time it resembled any other store in Armenia other than the fact that it had air conditioning!! I think the first text I sent in Spitak to other Peace Corps volunteers went something like this “omg I am in an air conditioned grocery store!!! Spitak is awesome!”

Well since I have been here this little store has turned into an Americanized grocery store, and I have to say it is awesome!! My favorite thing to do in Spitak is to go grocery shopping! Maybe I shouldn’t share this because everyone laughs at me when I do, but when I get really lonely I go to the grocery store! I feel like all the employees are my friends there. They are so friendly and nice to me. They read the Russian labels and translate them for me. They play with Sophie, who I have been bringing into the store with me since she was small enough to fit in my purse!!! Now she is getting huge, but they still let her come in, she just sits in the cart. People don’t even look at me funny anymore. It’s a normal scene for them to see me pushing Sophie around in the shopping cart.

Also part of me just loves to feel like I am in a modern place; it makes me feel not so isolated. And maybe just maybe I have a little crush on a store employee!! =) Anyways here is a picture my best friend Ash took of my everyday life in Spitak, and trust me I do find a reason to go in there just about every day.

I’ve been spending a lot of time in Spitak now that I have my own apartment. It’s nice to live alone and to be able to eat what you want and sleep when you want and be social when you want. I do have to admit it does get a little lonely sometimes, but mostly I solve that problem by watching movies, cooking fantastically yummy meals, which take all day because I have to adapt everything to the Armenian lifestyle. When I get really lonely I just bundle up and take Sophie for a walk to the supermarket. Everyone at the supermarket is so nice is me and they just adore Sophie! They walk with me as I shop and read the labels to me or translate the Russian products for me. They play with Sophie a bit and ask me questions. Strange but I feel the most comfortable at the little grocery store.

Even though I am loving my new apartment, and new found freedom, it was really nice to be able to take a day trip to Gyumri this weekend. Gyumri is my favorite city in Armenia, there is just something about it that feels so authentic and almost grimy. I love the little street vendors and all of the cute cafes and I hadn’t been there since August so I decided to meet my best friend Ashley there to spend a few hours.

The one downside to Gyumri is that the only way to get there from Spitak is by bus. Usually I travel everywhere in Armenia by Marshootni. Marshootnis are similar to mini vans that seat about 15 people to 20 if you are really unlucky. They aren’t exactly race cars, but riding on a bus makes them seem that way. They are so slow!! While a trip to Gyumri by cab would take me about thirty minutes, by bus it takes up to an hour and twenty minutes!!!

When I got on the bus I took my usual seat by the front door. I like to sit there because not many people like to sit by the door as it can be pretty cold, this means normally that I won’t be squashed. Plus I have a Sophie dog to sit on my lap and keep me warm!

As I got comfortable in my seat, the bus was getting ready to leave. Thankfully no one was sitting by me! Just as we began to pull out from the station a group of men came toward the bus. The door opened slowly to let in a big, huge fat man with stains on his shirt and a very distinctive smell. As he passed by me I thanked god and began to make room for one of the three boys who followed behind him. One took a seat by me and I was glad to be on our way… but as luck would have it, just as the wheels began to move again, the fat man decided that he would change seats with the young boy.

I tried to make myself seem unavailable. I put my head phones on as loud as they reached and turned to look out the window. I was aware that the man was staring at me, but I tried to avoid letting him know that I knew. His friends sat directly across from us, on the backwards facing seat in the bus, which meant they too were staring directly at me. I couldn’t help but to catch the eye of a young man. He happened to be very good looking and when our eyes met we both blushed and turned away. As time passed I became aware that my seat mate was trying to get my attention to talk to me. I tried to ignore him, but as Sophie reached over and sniffed his face, I could no longer pretend he didn’t exist

Your dog likes me, he said. I smiled politely and nodded. Do you speak Armenian? Yes I speak a little I replied. He began asking me the usual questions, where I am from, why I am here and if I am married…

If only people would not ask me that question!! Of course I said no because it’s a small town, if I said yes he would most likely know that I was lying. I tried to look away because I knew we were about to get into a huge discussion about why I wasn’t married. I was aware that everyone on the bus was listening to our conversation and laughing at parts that they found amusing. No such Luck, I was already sucked in and there was no way out…

But instead of drilling me on the specifics of why I was not married, he pointed to the very attractive boy across from him. This is my nephew he told me. He will make a great husband for you. I looked up, face filled with embarrassment and saw that my proposed fiancé was staring at his shoes, presumably just as embarrassed as I was. No, no I tried to explain, I don’t want to get married.

Everyone wants to get married he told me. He is a good boy, he has a good job and has money. You will not find anyone better. I begin to giggle a little, as I sometimes do when I am in extreme awkward situations. He began to tell me about the kid’s job, and what a good husband he would make. Then he began to whisper something. Now I am not going to pretend to know what he said, because I couldn’t understand a word of it… but I do know tone and body expression, I feel I read people extremely well, and I am pretty sure he was talking about something inappropriate. I told him I didn’t understand and he repeated it with a huge grin on his face followed by a wink… yeah you get the picture.

I pretended to be completely clueless and claimed that my Armenian was really poor. I looked back to the cute boy, he was still staring at his shoes, filled with embarrassment. He is a good looking boy isn’t he, the man asked me. I began to giggle again. No I said followed by giggles. Well yes, but I mean no, I don’t know. Then more giggles to the point that tears were coming from my eyes. Marry him; he will be a good husband. Come with us, we shall make a khorovots to celebrate. I giggled some more and said I couldn’t, that I was meeting a friend. I deliberately left off the suffix that means girl friend. A few minutes later as the man was still trying to sell me on his nephew his stop came up. He told me once more that I should come with him, but I declined. We will find you the next time we come to town. You live in Luscines building don’t you?.... Great!

This is my first blog in a few weeks because there has been so much going on. First of all I moved into a new apartment. Things didn’t end very well with my host family after they found out I was going to move. They basically stopped talking to me and barley fed me in the last few weeks. It was a really stressful time for me, but now I am in my new apartment with Sophie dog and I am so excited about how it is turning out.

The other major thing that happened that has caused me to pause my blog is that I had a week long seminar in a local ski resort so I didn’t have time to blog. Also the end of the seminar has caused me to question my service here in Armenia. I won’t go too much into detail because thinking about the incident and what could have happened really upsets me.

So on our last night in Tsakghadzor Ashley and I decided to go into town while the boys played basketball. The seminar was very long and boring, starting each day at 9:30 and ending around 6 or 7. So we really needed to get out and get some fresh air. We walked from the Sports Complex hotel to the nearest store in town, which was probably about a 20 minute walk. We talked with the hanoot owners who were very friendly and nice to us, and even gave us a mini Armenian lesson. After making our purchases we walked around the main street in the town and took a few pictures. After some time we began to walk back up to our hotel. We walked for about ten minutes when we noticed a black car following us. We made the first left into the nearest hotel parking lot, trying to make them think that it was our hotel so they would leave us alone. The door of the hotel was around the back side so we walked around the building to toward the door. The car followed us. At the dead end one man got out of the car on foot and pursued us. We immediately went into the hotel to wait it out. To be honest I was nervous but it is not unusual for us to be followed here. Usually it is just guys trying to hit on us, nothing sinister. We waited for five minutes and figured they would be gone. When we walked out the door the man was still there so we sped up to get to the main street and he followed. As we went toward that side the car was waiting for us blocking the exit, parked horizontally with the car door open. We were trapped. We slid by the side of the door that was not open. We picked up our pace to get to the main street. The other guy following on foot got in the car and the car started again and followed. We stopped in a lighted area not wanting to walk further away from the town. The car circled us about 4 times. Finally they asked if we would come with them. I said no. The guy got a little big angry and asked me why not. I just said no over and over again and continued to walk away. At this point I was pretty scared, I partly felt safe because I was with Ash, but there were two of them, and it became clear they had no intentions of leaving us alone.

The car then pulled up out of sight at the next turn ahead of us towards our hotel. We debated what our next move should be, thinking maybe they drove off but half frozen with fright we just stood therel knowing they were waiting for us ahead out of town where there are no lights or traffic. I told her to wait to make sure they were gone. Then we heard a car door shut. I knew they had not in fact left but were up at the next cross street waiting for us. Essentially they had trapped us again. We had no where to go. If we went forward we would walk straight to them. If we turned around we would be going into the dark, possibly making things worse. So we waited a bit and then tried to walk the other way. As soon as we took a few steps The car engine started again and began to follow. At this point I called the Peace Corps, I knew these guys were going to try to take us. As I was on the phone the car was circling around us again, this time much closer. Thank God that as they got closer to us I spotted a taxi coming and I jumped out in front of it. Ash and I practically jumped in it, scared out of our minds. I have to admit I was at the point of hysterically yelling at her, sorry ash. As we drove toward our hotel I couldn’t help but to look back, scared that they were following, but they did not, I think they knew they lost their chance.

I have to say this is the second time someone has tried to hurt me here. There is no doubt in my mind that these men were planning to take one of us, and were making plans on the best way to do it. The fact that they were in a car, made it much scarier because they could get one of us and we would never been seen again. At first I thought everything was fine, it was just a close call, but now as the days pass I am really questioning my safety here. If this man had got us, what could we do? We are both short, little people, and I am not saying we don’t have fight, but there were two of them. I mean we are targeted here because we are foreign women. We were both dressed appropriately in huge snow jackets and hats and gloves. We were in no way acting out of Armenian character or drawing attention to ourselves. The thing is we don’t look like Armenians and no matter what we do, we won’t fit in and that scares me. I don’t want to have to carry a switchblade in my purse to feel safe, but what can I do?

This week has been such an amazing week for me. After a few weeks of doubting my purpose here and wondering if I was truly making a difference as an English teacher, and feeling completely overwhelmed, I am finally starting to feel good about what I am doing again. At the end of last year, school was focused on the pending holidays, it became really difficult to teach and I stopped making meaningful lesson plans. Even in reading club we focused more on singing than we did on learning to read. I started to feel like a failure and even worse I began to get lazy. Well one of the things I promised myself for the New Year was to get back to effective lesson planning. Having goals for each lesson and having directed activities that utilize the newly acquired skill make a huge difference in my teaching. When I go to school unprepared, the lesson is often boring and the students hate it, and then become behavioral problems. So this year I have been back to guided lesson plans and it is making all the difference in the world. As I have never taught before, 80 percent of my lessons and activities come from my imagination. I take a topic and brainstorm how to teach it in an interesting manner. I have discovered I have a knack for this that I never knew I had. The other 20 percent of my ideas come from an activity book that I was given by another brilliant Peace Corps volunteer. The point being, there is no real method to my madness. Well this week I went to the Peace Corps office and picked up a few books with tons of methodologies to teach ESL. I have already read through most of them, and have come away with so many ideas. I am so excited to bring these new techniques into the classroom. I feel that I have proven techniques now that will improve my teaching. One thing that I began this new semester with my little ones is a guided positive reinforcement regiment. Every day at the beginning of class my students put a small note book on my desk with the date written on the page, we call this the sticker book. During class if the student does something well I make a note in the book and place a sticker by it. My students are so excited at the end of every class to see who got the most stickers in their books and also to receive praise. I cannot say enough about the effects of positive reinforcement on my kids. They strive to answer questions first and to participate now. Another benefit to this method is getting parents involved in their child’s education. At my parent meetings I informed the parents that this was our new class policy and that if they want to know how their child is doing in class they need only to look at their books. My children hate the idea of going home and having to show an empty sticker book to their mom, so they are working really hard. The best part of this week for me was taking a trip to the U.S embassy. My friend’s dog had chewed my passport so I had to go fill out an application for a new one. The people at the embassy were so kind and friendly. When they found out I was a Peace Corps volunteer they told me how special I was, and even invited others over to come meet me. They asked about my work, and thanked me for what I am doing. It felt so good to be appreciated especially when it was so unexpected. After I was done with my passport application I went to the IRC in the Embassy. At a seminar in November we had met a woman from the IRC ( English language center) who talked to us about all kinds of amazing programs that they do. They have movie nights that we are welcomed to invite our students to, they have tons of English books and movies that we can check out and use and they do monthly activities. Well a few days after the conference I noticed that my book supply was running very short. I became frantic about the future of my reading club, so I began to write letters asking for help. I wrote to ten different organizations in Yerevan asking for book donations and on a whim I also wrote the IRC. Thank God I did because they were the only ones to reply and offered 50 books to me. This week I got to pick those books up. I was so giddy when I saw a box full of old library books for my kids. I am so thankful to everyone at the IRC for such a great donation. My kids absolutely love reading club and are excited that at least for awhile we will be able to have it every week! I do still have a need for more children’s books so if anyone is interested in donating, please let me know. I am planning a city wide reading event in March to celebrate literacy and Dr. Seuss’s birthday. Also I have decided that I now have enough books that each of my children can borrow them to practice their reading skills at home. So I brought all of the books I have into the school for storage. I was shocked when all the other teachers took so much interest in the books. I asked my counterpart what the interest was about. What she told me broke my heart… “We don’t have books such as these here. We have a few fairy tales, but nothing with illustrations as these. They are the most beautiful books they have ever seen” “Well what do kids read when they are little? Like what do they read for fun?” I asked, shocked. “We don’t read a lot here, there isn’t a lot available. Children usually have one book with a few stories in it, and their school books, that is it” she explained to me. Can you imagine what it would be like to grow up without books? Maybe this is just the book nerd in me, but I am horrified at the thought of it. Books have always been such an important part of my life. Since I was a little girl I loved to read; my favorite thing in the world was going to the library or book store. As I have said on here before, I truly believe that my love of reading is what developed my learning skills. Children who have problems reading, have problems learning. Children who don’t like to read, have problems learning. Inspiring a love of reading in a child makes all the difference in the world. To this day I love to read, and I love to learn. I know without a doubt, that if my parents had not read to me when I was a little girl and had not given me a library card and allowed me the freedom to read whatever I wanted, I would not be where I am today. I would not have gotten good grades nor been interested in learning. We are so lucky to be Americans and have privileges that we don’t even realize are privileges. So my plan is to build the best library I can build for my school. I want to get been bag chairs, carpets and bookshelves that flow with colorful, imaginative books to be at my student’s disposal. Having new ideas and plans of ways that I can help people makes me so happy and fulfilled, it immediately helps cure the homesickness that has been brewing in me. I really want to be the best teacher I can be, but I also want my kids to have something when I leave Spitak. So if you are interested in donating books or school supplies please send me an Email alyssaschlange@yahoo.com. I would also like to thank my aunt linda, Allison and Brian Coltin and the IRC for the donations you have already made

This morning as I boarded my Marshootni to Yerevan I noticed how easy it has become to slip into this Peace Corps robe, to become homogenous with the Armenian culture and to almost fit in it, in fact I’d almost say that life here has become mundane. Sure people in Spitak still stare at me all the time, but at least now when they stare someone explains to them I am the American English teacher. I know people still think its weird when I walk into a hanoot with Sophie tucked into my bag, but now they just excuse it as an American custom. I no longer have to get on to praying to God that I read the sign right and am going to the right place, I know where the van is going by looking at the driver. I have begun to figure things out here and it’s amazing to not feel so lost all of the time. I’d dare say I know the marshootni times better than most of the locals in Spitak.

I now know to always sit in the window seat, as you can carve out your own space there. I know never to sit by a young man if I have a choice, not only because I will be amoted, but because a 2 hour marshootni ride trying to avoid the shuffle of someone’s feet as they attempt to play footsies with you, is not preferable. I know to put my ear phones on when I don’t want to be bothered and to sit by a tatik if I want to talk. Yes I’d say I have Armenian transportation down at this point, or so I’d thought.

One thing I didn’t know, I guess someone forgot to explain to me, is that fist fighting is perfectly acceptable form of communication on a Marshootni… I wish I would of known that today as myself and the other 15 passangers of the Spitak line traveled down the road up North…

What started as a normal Marshootni ride with my least favorite driver, yes I have favorite drivers now, suddenly turned wrong when a taxi cab pulled up alongside us and signaled for us to pull over. Crap, I thought, just what I need a friggen flat tire…

But I noticed something strange as we pulled over onto the side of the road; the taxi was pulling over as well. “Well at least they are going to help us” I thought to myself as I turned up the sound on my earphones, believing we had a long wait ahead of us. I watched as a man got out of the taxi and began walking to the van door. The driver did not budge, just sat patiently waiting. He must have chased us down in the taxi to get on the marshootni I thought, annoyed because there clearly were not any empty seats for a new comer. I watched as the man opened the van door and climbed into the back. He yelled something, as he came my way. I turned my ear phones down and looked up as the man was standing over me his fist flying toward the man sitting behind me. Confusion delays my memory here because I didn’t really understand what was happening, but somewhere around punch number 4 or 5 a scream escaped my lips. What the hell is happening, I think I said. No one moved, no one tried to help the young boy who was being beat. I looked pleadingly toward the driver, I don’t know if he took mercy on me or the boy who was being beat but he began to yell at the man to leave. The man took a few steps back, yelled at the boy again and turned to exit the marshootni, but not before a hand flew over my seat to grab the man. The boy wanted his revenge; he leaped up to go after the assaulter but was pushed back.

The man ran into the waiting taxi, and they drove off. I sat in my seat, mouth wide open, too confused to be scared. Did a taxi really just chase us down to assist a man in beating another man? Did my driver have any idea this was going to happen? Why didn’t anyone say anything? Why did no one stop it? Was I just dreaming about an episode of the sopranos? Really what the hell just happened?

I wish I could answer any of these questions but I can’t. We simply got back on the road and made the two hour drive, no one saying a single word. If anything more people stared at me for screaming than they did at the boy who was beat… Just goes to show, no matter what happens here, I am still the strange American and nothing I do goes un-noticed and nothing will ever be normal to me here.

When my counterpart Hermonie was interviewed for her position, my program manager Gayane explained to her “You will make or break this Peace Corps volunteer. Whether she stays or goes is in your hands.” As I begin to see other Peace Corps volunteers crash and burn, either leaving the program or essentially giving up on their primary job and searching desperately for anything that they can half heartedly do in their communities, I am starting to wonder how much of Gayane’s statement was true. My counterpart is my anchor in Spitak. We don’t spend too much time together after work, but whenever I have a problem she is the first person I call. She understands how difficult it is for me to be here, and does her best to explain that to others. She is always on my side, and goes into everything with an open mind. If I want to try something new in the class room, not only does she allow me, but she’s excited for my new ventures. She never seems to be upset that the children flock to me over her; she seems to understand that it’s part of having the only American in town as your partner. She has ran to the pharmacy for me when I was sick, taken me to take passport pictures, gone shopping with me, and helped me find the best lotion Spitak has to offer. It’s all these little things that make life here so much easier on me. As I have been looking for an apartment in Spitak, she has been so amazing. She has made countless phone calls and is constantly on the phone negotiating deals for me. Because of her calls, my apartment will now have everything I need with the exception of a fridge, this she is still trying to find for me. It’s amazing how all of the teachers at my school have looked after me. She tells them what I am missing and they all put their heads together to see how they can make it work for me. Some have offered to make their children share dressers so that I can have one in my house; others have offered me my pickings in their gardens come summer. From blankets to dishes, I know that I am covered in anything I may need because of their kindness. By February 1st, thanks to my counterpart I will be living in a one room apartment, with a kitchen that has heated water and a shower and a toilet. Though I am sure in many ways it will be difficult to leave my host family, I cannot help but have a lightness of heart now that I know soon I will have my own apartment. Although, my living alone does make a great number of people very nervous, I can’t wait to cook for myself and eat when I want to eat. I can’t wait to have friends come spend the night and to have dinner parties. To have Sophie Jan sleep inside and not have to worry about her freezing. To be able to sleep whenever I want to sleep and not have to worry about hurting people’s feelings or making them angry at every waking moment. Last week while I was having coffee with my counterpart, her father in law came to me and grabbed my hands and kissed me on the cheek. “You must not live alone Alyssa-jan. Hermonie, I know a family who has an open room a few houses down, I will look into it” he told us. “No Pop, she lived alone in America and wants to live alone now, she had a family here but wants to be on her own” my counterpart responded. “I will call them, you will see it will be better” he stubbornly insisted as if he didn’t hear her reply. This is Armenia after all and it wouldn’t be true to the culture if no one insisted on me doing something I didn’t want to =) I have to say, I love this place!

A Christmas Tree in the middle of Yerevan! So pretty... yes they may call it a Nor Tari tree, but to me it will always be a Christmas tree...

These are my 4th grade babies before their Nor Tari play...

And below is me with my third grade babies who put on the cutest lil play I have ever seen. I felt a fraction of what it is like to be a parent watching them. I've never been so proud!!

This is Mikertich, he is so adorable as the lil spanish wolf who dreams of eating bunnies but can't because he is in love with them!

My kiddos singing nor tari songs and dancing the waltz... like little grown ups!

American Christmas with some of the other Peace Corps Volunteers in Martuni... this isn't even half of our group, there are so many of us in Armenia

Me and my best friend Ashley in Yerevan the day after Christmas

And this is when the real holiday began in Armenia. This is Ara, he is my host fams Nephew. This kid is a demon! He may look cute and sweet, but he is crazy... Just like the other Ara I know...

Ara's lil sister is the sweetest most adorable little girl!!! We colored pictures together and ate chocolates. She tried to take my coloring book with her... I put a stop to that!! It's my in with children, I need my coloring book!

Look at his face, that kid is the devil!! =)

Me and my NYE date, sophie! Isn't she adorable?

My family had the biggest and best Christmas/Nor Tari Tree in all of Spitak! It's still up in our house.

Me and Sophie Toast to the new year! I was suprised that the champagne here is not too bad... maybe I have just been here too long?

New years day we woke up to Snow!! I had been dreading this day since before I left California.

One of the many beautiful Nor Tari tables full of delicious food... This was our third lunch on the first day of Nor Tari... I love my host moms family

This is breakfast at our neighbors house on the second day of Nor Tari.. the dad in the family insisted I drink his 15 year old aged Cognac... I'm not going to lie, I was a little drunk by 11:30!! Armenians start early on Nor tari... also notice we eat the same thing for breakfast as we eat for lunch as we eat for dinner, it's one of the most shocking things for me... Left over fish for breakfast? yum

My host mom's Nor Tari, in my opinion it's the prettiest! My brother added the 2011!

Sophies Nor Tari present, a huge pig bone from the Nor Tari roast we had! She was a happy pupster

I hope everyone had a Merry Christmas back home, I can't wait to throw Armenian Nor Tari Parties when I come back!

It is officially the New Year, actually a new decade and this year I celebrated it far differently than I ever have in the past. As I mentioned in my last blog, Nor Tari (New Year’s) is the holiday of all holidays here. I meant to do a day by day blog of the festivities but as I fell sick, a short synopsis will have to do.

Day 0 Nor Tari eve-

My host mom was frantic all day preparing the last of the meats. I helped her prepare some Ribs and talked her out of baking them in mayo… huge accomplishment in my book! As the hours got late I sat and watched t.v with my host brothers. Nothing really exciting. At about 11:00 my host mom began to set her table. Setting your Nor Tari table is a huge deal for the Armenian woman. Since August my host mom has been talking about this table that she would make and all the different food that she would put on it. It’s like a competition to see who can have the best food and the prettiest table. On almost every table there are very elaborate matching dishes, shot glasses, wine glasses and water glasses. Ours were gold, so it really had a holiday feel to it. Then there is a fruit bowl filled with bananas, kiwi, persimmons, pomegranates, apples and tangerines. If the family has more money there are also pears and oranges and grapes. Then there is a “trail mix” dish, with walnuts, cashews and raisins. We also had a towered dish with three levels, one with dried fruit, one with walnuts and one with candy. Everyone has an assortment of chocolates on the table, as well as a plate of various desserts. Most common are éclairs or what we call puff pastries, napoleon, paklavah, and snickers cake. My host mom also spent a lot of time making what she called raffelos. They are lil bon bon type cakes with cream on the outside and coconut, made to taste like the candy they have here that is really expensive. She also put glitter on hers, an Armenian trend in cake making. In the middle of the table is an assortment of drinks, different kinds of vodka, cognac, wine, coke, sprite, fanta, sparkling water, juice and pear lemonade. On both sides of the tables are two meat dishes with different types of salami, balstoma (a spicy, salty tough meat) and sometimes turkey or ham. Bread and lavash is placed all over the table so that it is easily accessible to all.

So after we made our table all pretty, it was about ten minutes to midnight. I brought Sophie in to share in the festivities. As we are listening to Armenian music the channel is interrupted by the head of the Armenian Church with a new year’s message. This goes on for about five minutes. Then another interruption and President Sarkisian comes on the set standing in front of the Armenian flags. My host brother tries to change the channel as the president talks and talks but he is on every channel. My cell phone clock strikes 12, he is still talking. 12:01, still talking. I yell happy New Year anyways and kiss Sophie jan, and my family repeats after me, and all kiss Sofie too, except my host mom. Finally he releases his grip on Armenia and the New Year can be celebrated. My host mom opens a bottle of champagne and we toast! The first toast is made to all of us, but the second to my family in America. I miss my sister; we spend every New Years together. I try to call her, no service. We eat some of the tasty mini desserts and go outside and shoot firecrackers. Sofie is the only dog I have ever seen who is not afraid of fireworks. We go back inside and drink more champagne and eat a mini late dinner. Drink more champagne; try to call my sister again and again. No service!

Day 1

Still no service for my phone! Can’t even call people in Armenia! Wake up early to a blanket of snow!! My first real snow fall! Am mildly excited and go outside to see if the dogs are ok. I call Soph but she doesn’t come, so I go and investigate. She is in front of the house chasing the snow flakes that are falling. She loves the snow!

By 11 am we are out the door and on the way to my Tatiks house. Basically all the houses we go to are the same, so I will keep this short. Basically everywhere you go, you sit and eat and toast a few times. Then you get up and go somewhere else.

Notable occurrences: Every house we went to on this day was a family member of my host family. I have met most before but things were different. At first I couldn’t put my finger on it, but now I realize it’s because all the men come back from Russia during Nor Tari. Family dynamics change a bit. Because the men have never met me they were fascinated to find out an American was at their house and had many questions for me. Also all felt the need to drink with me. Usually I am only with women, since the fathers are all gone so there is no pressure to drink, but with the host fathers around the pressure to drink is stronger.

One of the houses we walk into belongs to my host mom’s sister’s parents in law. We walk in and a little tiny old man greets everyone with a kiss and a hug. He gets to me and stares

Who is this?

Dad it’s the American

But who is she?

She is living with Rouzan dad, she is a teacher, her name is Alyssa.

But who are you? (to me)

Me: Nor Tari shnorhavor….

Then as we are leaving after spending about an hour at the same table as the man talking to him…

But who are you? To me…. Then to his wife, who is this little girl? She doesn’t look Armenian? Who’s daughter is she….

Dad, she is the American we told you about

But is she Armenian?

No dad she is American

To me: Who are you

Me: Nor tari shnorhavor and exit!

Notable conversation of the day: Lenin the great. As all the men from Russia were back there was a lot more talks of politics. Many men felt the need to tell me how difficult life is now for Armenians and how they have to work in Russia to provide for their families. Older men told me how expensive things are now, and that when Armenia was part of the Soviet Union, things were much better. One man explained to me that 20 years ago a bottle of lemonade cost 2 kopecks, which is nothing; mere pennies. But now it cost 400 dram which is considered a lot to them, but is about what it would be in the U.S maybe even cheaper. They tell me about Soviet Times wistfully, wishing for those days to be again… I want to tell them no matter what the price of commodities would increase in 20 years time, even if they stayed part of the Soviet Union.

After 6 different dinners, I retire to bed early and too full! I vow never to eat that much again. As I drift to sleep people arrive at our home and the dancing begins…. I wake up and join for a few minutes but return to bed exhausted.

Day 2.

Notable Occurrence: This is the day we stayed home and people came to us. But early in the morning we did go to one neighbor’s house. Here too a husband from Russia is back. I meet him for the first time. He is so excited to meet me. It’s ten am. As we sit he fills everyone’s glass with vodka. I tell him I don’t want any. He tells me to wait and he goes into their underground food storage basement. He comes back up with a bottle of cognac. He tells me this is a special bottle that has been aged for 15 years and that it is very expensive cognac. He fills my cup and tells me he will be insulted if I don’t try it. He makes a toast to me and we drink. He makes a toast to the health and happiness of my host family in the future and we take another shot. He then makes a special toast to my family in America saying they must be really special people to share their daughter with Armenia and we drink again. Another toast is made to the health of the household and I try to pretend to drink but don’t and am caught so I drink. Then a toast is made by my host mom to the hospitality of the family and to their health. By 11 I have had too many shots of cognac!

As we are watching tv at about 9 pm two younger men walk into the house. I have no idea who they are so I wish them a happy new year but keep my distance. Finally I am called to join the table. They have many questions for me, and make many toasts to me. I don’t really drink this time, having learned my lesson. When they are getting ready to leave the man takes my hand and tells me happy new year and it was a great pleasure to meet me. He holds my hand too long…

Notable Conversation: Are you a Catholic?

Me: no, I am Christian

Rouzan, is she a Catholic

I don’t know, I never asked. (she asks me again)

No, I am Christian; we are similar but no pope

You don’t believe in Christ?

No, I do! I just don’t pray to Mary or listen to what the pope says

But you go to church?

Yes I go to Church

So you are Catholic (they do the Catholic trinity sign)

No, we don’t do that. I believe in Christ but I am not a part of the Catholic Church.

Do you have a special relationship with God?

Yes, I believe in God.

So you are Catholic church?

Yes……

Another day of too much eating, this day a little less because we were at my own house, but our guests really seem to be offended if I don’t eat with them… they leave my host brothers alone, but I must eat…

Day 3

I wake up sick

Notable Occurrence: Nothing, I pass out and sleep the whole day while my family runs around.

Day 4

I wake up sick again, but it’s my host cousin’s birthday so my family asks if I will still go to his house

Another beautiful table with tons of food on it. We eat lots of Dolma and belinchicks. After about an hour sitting at the table I get really sick. I have a feaver. My host mom tells me to take a nap on the couch and she will run down the street to say hi to some friends. After sleeping for 3 hours I awake to see that my host cousins family has new guests over. They are all staring at me wondering who the heck I am and why I am passed out on the couch. They talk about me, as if I don’t understand Armenian. They leave a door open, my host brother, who elected to stay with me, yells at them to close it, that I am sick. He attempts to turn the heat up and gets yelled at that it is already hot. Alyssa is sick she needs it to be warm he says and turns it up anyways. I love my lil brother.

Finally my host mom comes back feels my head and sees that I still have a fever and takes me home

Notable Conversation: Tatik: Alyssa did you meet my brothers nephews son (actually I have no idea what the relation was but it was something to this effect) yesterday?

Me: No, who is that?

Host Mom: He is the one that came late at night with the other guy

Me: oh yeah.

Tatik: He is a nice boy, wouldn’t you like to Marry him?

Me: No

Tatik: Why not, he has a good job and he is nice and he is my boy and he has a good family. He says you are the best girl he ever met and the love of his life. He wants to marry you.

Me: uhhh I don’t want to get married, remember I told you.

Tatik: But he loves you, and he is older, 33 years old and he is a good boy for you. (She seems a little too serious for my liking, even a bit defensive and angry…)

Me: Does he know English?

Everyone laughs, even Tatik

Tatik: No, but your Armenian is better every day. You speak Armenian so you can marry him.

Me: If he doesn’t speak English than I won’t be able to yell at him when I am angry and he wont be able to ask my dad if he can marry me so it wont work

Everyone laughs again, situation diffused.

Day 5

Attempt to go to a Nor Tari khorovots for my school, eat really delicious food, but then get a fever and can’t breathe and have to be rushed home to take medicine.

Being sick during Nor Tari is horrible, but maybe a blessing in disguise. I didn’t have to eat nearly as much as I would have if I wasn’t sick

*** Sorry not going to edit this one. Wanted to get it down before I forgot it, but I am still sick and don’t care so much about how its written just that I share the experience with y’all. I’ll post pictures when I feel better

When I was a little girl I read a book called If You Give a Mouse a Cookie. It was a cute story whose main point was that if you give a mouse of cookie he will keep asking for more stuff. There were also many other versions of this story; I even wrote my own version as a 5th grader called If You Give a Boy a Box of Crayons.

Anyways, last night I found myself thinking of that book a lot. For the past month I have felt a lot of tension in my host family. It seems these days money is very tight for them and all of a sudden a lot of rules have popped up. Such as I can only take a shower twice a week or I can’t drink milk, or use my heater at night. These rules drive me nuts because I feel like I pay them a good amount of money to use these things so I don’t understand why I can’t use them. Sometimes it just seems as though it would be a lot easier to move into an apartment of my own, which has been the plan all along, but now I have been wanting it to happen sooner rather than later.

Part of the recent tightness has been the weather change, it is now winter and cold, and obviously it costs more money to heat the house. However, the biggest reason I find for the change is that tonight is Nor Tari, aka New Years. Nor Tari is huge here in a way that it is hard for the American mind to grasp. In a way Nor Tari can be compared to American’s Christmas, except it’s twice as big and lasts for 4 times as many days. For the past week my house has been busy from early in the morning till late at night with Nor Tari preparations, which mostly include cooking and more cooking and a little bit of cleaning. We put up the tree the day after American Christmas, as the tree is for Nor Tari not Christmas. Armenians do have a Christmas on January 6th, however it’s named Saints day and Santa Clause comes on New Year’s Eve, so it’s not really the same concept as ours.

Anyways in move to break the tension with my family I bought them all Nor Tari presents. At first I didn’t want to do it at all. Part of my reason being, well I am in the Peace Corps and I am broke! I never even have money to call home. The other reason being that my family always seems to think I have a lot of money when in fact I have none. I was afraid to buy them presents because they already expect so much from me, and if you give a mouse a cookie, he will want a glass of milk. For my host mom I bought a table tea set that matches the rest of her cups and plates. Previously for tea we used really old Halloween cups that had no handles! For my host brothers I got them a huge Talbarone chocolate bar. That doesn’t seem like much, but the two bars costs as much as the tea set did. My host brother Vahag loves chocolate, and I wanted him to have some good chocolate for once.

So last night I was sitting around the heater with my host brothers and we were watching tv and talking about Nor Tari plans. Vahag informed me that he got me a little Nor Tari surprise, and that is exactly how he said it. I have been teaching him a little bit of English so I was happy that he used it! I then told him that I had a little surprise for him and the kid went crazy! He basically turned into a younger me, and started begging me to give it to him right then. I couldn’t help but to laugh, I absolutely adore my younger host brother so I had to give in to him. I brought out the candy and explained that it was my favorite chocolate in America and that I consider it one of the best. As my host brothers began to open their chocolate, I was feeling a little sad because I didn’t have enough money to buy myself a bar of my own and it really is my favorite.

My brother Vahag ripped his open as excited as could be. He is 15 but at that moment he was a six year old. My other host brother Vahe, who is on vacation from the army, opened his slowly and more maturely as if he could care less. I watched carefully wanting to see the expression on their faces when they had their first taste. However, I was interrupted when Vahag stuffed a huge chunk of the chocolate in my face. Eat it he ordered me. I told him I couldn’t it was his gift and he had to eat it. He shoved it in my mouth! Almost half of the chocolate, half of his Nor Tari gift he gave to me. I can’t think of too many people who would share like that, but that is one of the best things about having a host family, and specifically my host brother, he treats me like I am family. Not even just like family, but like special family who gets special treatment.

Often when he and his mom get into an argument about something he looks to me and tells me to decide.

“Alyssa you’re my sister and Armenian sisters always protect their little brothers and always choose their side.”

He really does see me as his big sister and always tells me how glad he is that I am here. As it turns out he loved the chocolate and said it was the best he ever had. He loved it enough that when Vahe put his down, Vahag stole it! We all agreed that it was the best chocolate you could find in Armenia.

It turns out that if I give that mouse a cookie he will give me half of it and offer me a glass of milk.