Where do I buy my ticket to Tbilisi?

I'm preparing to leave Armenia. Feeling a bit scared and excited. It's a strange feeling to head off to new places with different customs, different languages, different everything. Except of course the human beings living there, who are generally the same the world 'round - usually kind. To illustrate . . . Yesterday I went to find the train station here to see exactly how much the tickets to Tbilisi cost and when the train leaves. I came to a big building with a cutout of a train over the door which was in about the right location so I, of course, assumed that must be the train station.

I walked in and entered a wide, open hallway with people moving about. Looked like a train station to me. An elderly man approached and asked me a question. I nodded "no." That must have been the right response because he seemed satisfied and allowed me to enter. I tried my lousy Armenian on him. He looked a bit baffled but directed me to the left, where 20 or so women were crowded into a room, pushing and shoving each other around. I assumed they must be trying to buy tickets so I went on in.

But no, it was some sort of second-hand clothes give-away and the women were just digging through boxes and tables covered with clothes. I considered joining in but decided I had enough clothes already. So I shoved my way back out into the hall and once again tried to ask the kind old gentleman where I could buy a train ticket to Tbilisi. He again looked at me as if I were speaking a strange foreign language ("This is Armenian I'm speaking, man. Why can't you understand me?") He motioned to the cleaning woman, who came over and also tried to interpret my needs. She then asked me to follow her down the hall where I could see a few doors standing ajar. "Aha," I thought. "Now we're getting somewhere." We reached an open doorway and she pointed in with a questioning look. I poked my head around and saw a toilet.

"Che," I said and shook my head. "Tomes, eentz petkay tomes Gyumri-eetz Tbilisi." I need a ticket from Gyumri to Tbilisi. Now, isn't that perfectly clear? Indeed! We hustled back to the entrance and she pointed further down the street to a large building at the end of a cul-de-sac. "Schnorhakalootyun, shot schnorhakalootyun." Oh, thank you, thank you very much.

A few more friendly meetings along the way to the station, strangers stopping me and asking me Goddess knows what and me answering them and neither of us understanding anything but no matter. We'd finally simply shrug our shoulders at each other, smile, wave and continue on our way. I reached the station, found the ticket booth and a kindly lady sitting inside the booth babbled away at me and pointed to a timetable which indicated price and times, all in familiar numbers which I recognized. Thank Heavens. So, see, it's not so difficult. :o)

Life in Armenia

I think some great musician of our time said it well . . . . "What a long, strange trip it's been." Watched a film last night about the Armenian genocide, "Ararat." I look out the window at the remains of a once elegant city, once rich with arts and artisan, now 22 years since an earthquake devastated it and left 50,000 dead in the region. I visited the remains of a 1,000-year-old church a few days ago. Those ruins are "scenic"; the more recent ruins outside the window are not. Such suffering, such a terrible scar on the Armenian soul to carry forward. And here they are still, stuck in the remnants of the homeland they love dearly and can't get away from.

The father from the host family I stayed with last summer in Arzakan (and just visited a week ago) stopped by (well, stopped by is stretching it - he lives 3 hours away) a few nights ago at 11pm to remind me to please let PC know that they are a great host family and that they'd really like to be a host family again this coming summer. They make $300/month for that, $750 for the summer. They are so desperate. I like them very much and it so hurt to see the desperation in his eyes. His wife, Gayane, is a teacher, makes $200/month, has begun having migraines daily. He works for the forestry whatever, but his work is spotty. His 62-year-old mother gets a pension of $60/month and has a huge growth on her abdomen which they can't afford to have removed. They have a nice, big house and a great garden that feeds them, as well as a cow, a horse and chickens. They have one daughter who graduated from high school last year with honors but they can't afford to send her to college (where hopefully she'd find a husband). They have another daughter who will graduate next year and a 12-year-old son. And that's the life they live. So difficult . . . .

A Rainy Saturday in Gyumri

I'm still in Gyumri, Armenia, visiting other volunteers, waiting for the weather to clear and enjoying the culture of this area. Gyumri is the 2nd largest city in Armenia. It was once a center for the arts and the architecture here is lovely. What is left of it that is. It was hit badly by the earthquake in 1988 and still is in a state of chaos. But what is left leads one to know that this was quite an elegant city once upon a time. 50,000 people in the region were killed in the earthquake, many left the area afterwards, and many more left when the Soviet Union collapsed. Yesterday we visited Marmashen, a beautful 1,000-year-old monastery on the outskirts of town.

Marmashen. Being here was a very moving experience.

Marmashen

Judy lighting candles inside the Marmashen Monastery

These old churches and monasteries are not active in the sense that we're familiar with in the US. The structure of their religion was broken during Soviet times. But the Spirit remains very much alive in individual hearts. People go to this places alone or in large family groups to ask for help, to pray, to offer thanks. They light candles and leave small icons. These are places of pilgrimage, not tourist attractions. The stones feel infused with 1,000 years of prayer. There is often a picnic area nearby where they can prepare horovats (like shish-kebob). This is a common practice at cemetaries also. It seems a good gathering place, actually, once I overcome the initial and instinctive reaction of my own cultural traditions.

We also visited an "art hotel" and an art museum in town.

The Gardens behind the Two Sisters Art Museum

Then we went for a walk around town.

A building destroyed by the 1988 earthquake

And there is also the human spirit, creating beauty out of the ashes . . . .

A building in the process of restoration

It's quite cold and rainy right now, off and on. Rain bordering on slush sometimes. The surrounding mountains are covered with snow - again. The very mountains I must pass through as I travel through Georgia - the lesser Caucasus they are called. The route from here to my next stop is around 100 miles and takes the marshrutka "5-10 hours". That's quite a span of time, which says that the road can be worse than awful. I'm sure the rain won't help. My intention is to leave Monday but the weather forecast isn't favorable until Wednesday so we'll see. Not much fun to visit old monasteries and fortresses, slogging through mud and freezing rain.

The internet connection is slow and sometimes not available.

11 April 2010, Sunday

Vahan Topchyan

Looks like I'll be in Gyumri for a while longer. It's still rainy and cold and the roads are bad. I won't be able to make the trip through Georgia that I had hoped to make. But Gyumri's not a nice place and I'm enjoying my stay here. I have Peace Corps friends here, a lovely apartment to stay in (Judy's home) and it's a nice little city. I arrived here Friday. We hung about the house, avoiding the rain, and Judy cooked a wonderful meal for us. We did go to the big hotel here. It started out as a polyclinic, but morphed into a hotel and polyclinic. The hotel now helps to support the clinic.In addition, the hotel displays the work of local artists throughout the lobby and in the rooms. Each room features a different artist. Very unique. I fell in love with the art of Vahan Topchyan. Gyumri was once a center for the arts and it still retains some of that spirit, in spite of the earthquake devastation 22 years ago. The buildings have character. A lot of stone and only a little wood. The stone work around the country is varied and interesting, and here in Gyumri even more so as there's a variety in the buildings that you don't see elsewhere. After touring the hotel we walked over to the food market and picked up a few items. It was cold and rainy so we hustled along back home. Salads salads salads! I've had lots of green food these past few days. Wonderful. Saturday morning the sky was blue and the sun was shining. It was still cool outside but in the sun it felt good. We got a taxi and headed toward Marmashen, on the outskirts of Gyumri.

“The monastery at Marmashen is about 10km northwest of Gyumri, just past the village of the same name in the wide gorge of the Akhuryan River. There are three churches hewn from lovely apricot-colored tuff clustered together next to an orchard, plus the ruins and foundations of other structures nearby. The biggest church, Surp Stepanos, was built between 988 and 1029, with a 13^th-century gavit(forehall). An Italian team led restoration work in the 1960s, so intricately carved old church stones have been incorporated into newer building blocks. Beautiful carved tombs and khatchkars dot the land around the churches, and it's a peaceful, rural environment typical of Shirak, with grassy horizons. The caretaker is here 8am to 8pm daily, and he can recite some of the inscriptions on the sides of the churches by heart.” (Lonely Planet)

It was a lovely and moving experience. The restoration work was beautifully done and the old stones retain the love and prayers of 1,000 years of people who have passed through there.

After the monastery trip we visited another art gallery here, the Two Sisters Gallery or perhaps more accurately the Aslamazyan Gallery. The art of Miryam and Eranim Aslamazyan are primarily displayed here though at different times there are art shows with different artists displayed.Very nice. A lovely day. Then home to again eat a great meal, cooked by Judy. Pasta noodles with parmesan cheese and spinach along with a nice tossed salad.

Today, Sunday, we awoke to gray sky and dreary drizzle. So we're hanging about the apartment, catching up on writing and emailing. Though now, at noon, a little blue sky and sunshine is beginning to appear. Perhaps we'll head to the market soon for fresh veggies for a stir-fry tonight. Maybe Barbara and Stacie will join us for dinner. So, I'm stuck in Gyumri. But I can think of a lot worse places to be stuck – for instance, in a marshrutka on a muddy pot-holed road in southwestern Georgia. :o)

Night-time companions

My roommate tonight is a little lady from Japan. She looks to be about 45 but told me she's 60! She's traveling alone and so far has visited 73 countries. I'm totally amazed. She's such a funny little woman. She mutters to herself, her English is just barely understandable. One must have a very forgiving and sympathetic ear to understand her. She travels with a 20 lb rolling cart and a 7 lb day pack. She got ready for bed, slipped on a hairnet and a face mask then set to snoring happily away. If she can do it, I can do it!

Last night I shared a room with a young French woman who I never met. I spent the night in Irine's Guesthouse in Tbilisi. It was a funky place, a bit cluttered but clean, with flags from all over the world hanging from a rod on one wall. I unfortunately had to retire to my room very early as Irine smokes like a haystack as does her friend who was staying there. Irine is quite heavy, mostly just sits in her chair and smokes while her sister cleans.

Street scene in Tbilisi

The night before I slept on an old Russian train from Yerevan to Georgia. My compartment mate was a Georgian, Surob, who was returning home from a 6 week workshop in India. He was very sweet and gave me a wonderful introduction to Georgia. When we arrived in Tbilisi he had his wife drop me off at Irine's. I would never have found the place otherwise.

Train station in Yerevan

Border Crossings and Visas Aaaaargh . . .

I'm back in Yerevan after a quick jaunt to Georgia. I left on the train Sunday night at 8:30p. It's an old Russian train, well put together and I'm sure it was quite elegant in its time. It's an electric train so it was quiet, though slow - we were probably traveling about 25 mph. It took 14 hours, with a 2-hour border stop. I enjoyed my stay in Tbilisi, but unfortunately I didn't get my personal passport stamped as I had hoped. Border police are difficult to deal with, especially when you don't speak their language and they don't speak yours. I was sent to several different windows, several consultations were held about my two passports and finally my passports were passed to another window and I was told to go there, that everything would be taken care of. So the border guard stamped my passport - and I could swear he stamped my personal passport - said no problem, I said thank you very much and walked away. The microbus had been waiting for me so I jumped in and we took off. That's when I checked my passport, only to find out that they had stamped my Peace Corps passport, not my personal passport. It's all complicated, these border crossings. Suffice it to say that I'm still in a fix. I can't travel in or out of Armenia until I have a visa to stay after I terminate with PC. So back to PC to see what went wrong. I also have an American friend here in Yerevan who speaks both Armenian and English and she has offered to take me to immigration in a day or two to see if we can figure it out. I may end up going to Tbilisi again tomorrow night to try once again.

A Final Walk Around Vardenis

A young boy approached me in a back street two days ago asking for money. I had my day pack on and was carrying my purse loosely in my right hand. I had been to the bank and in it was everything. Everything: all my money, my credit card, my debit card, both my passports. I have no idea what he was saying to me, but it very possibly could have been, “Be careful how you carry your valuables, no matter how safe you feel.” And with that he reached out and grabbed my purse. Fortunately it was lightly wrapped around my wrist and there was resistance to his tug. Also, he was young, perhaps 12-14, inexperienced and probably a little nervous about his attempted theft. A few other words were exchanged between us and he ran off. What a lesson for me! I shouldn't be so careless. I was robbed once in Guatemala and it's not a fun experience. Puts a dent in the day that's for sure.

So I came home afterward and worked on a more secure way to carry my money and cards. I stitched a pocket in my bra and pinned a sock which had lost its mate inside my jeans. I also have a travel pouch which is meant to wear around my neck but I usually put it around my waist and tuck both the strap and the pouch under my pants and shirt. The only money I keep in my purse is small amounts for immediate spending – food, taxi, souvenirs, etc.

When my landlady overcharged me for my utilities the 2nd month in a row it was really the final straw for me.  I have such a hard time with that. The headaches were bad at that time but became worse afterwards. I decided first to just leave the apartment where I'm living but the stress of trying to find a new place was too much. I knew I didn't have the energy for it, the headaches and ringing ear problem was getting worse, and I just decided to cut to the chase.

Had that not happened I probably would have stayed on. I really don't want my entire experience to be colored by that event though it definitely determined my decision. But just like the purse-snatching incident it was probably meant to be. I was having a difficult time finding happiness here. It had become such hard work and such stress.

But, then there are the children. If only I could overlook all the other stresses and just focus on the kids. Though I felt ineffective and inadequate in Vardenis, my experience in Sodk was very different. Unfortunately, I was paying my own taxi fare there and back ($5) and art materials, perhaps easily another $3 each week. That doesn't sound like much but it starts putting a dent in my Peace Corps allowance and I was only going one day a week. And I didn't really have the energy to go twice a week. 25 kiddoes all vying for my attention and speaking jibberish was great fun and also very tiring.

Well, I hope I left a good mark and not too much disappointment. I know the children of Sodk were wild about me and our time together. I brought them color from the outside world. When I would approach the barren-looking school the doors would burst open and out would flood the children in my club, all trying to hold my hand as we walked to the school. Each week I would cover a different topic: Mother's Day, Spring, color words. After 15 minutes of something like a language lesson I would pull out the art supplies - crayons, markers, glue, pictures to color and blank paper - and off we would go. Like one of those TV commercials suddenly the room would begin to fill with colorful flowers, houses painted red, purple and pink, multi-colored birds, green trees, bright yellow suns. "Look, Ms Lora, Look!" "Oh, that's beautiful, beautiful," I would tell them. I miss them . . . .

Nevertheless, I'm on the road again, for better or for worse. I read Walt Whitman's “The Open Road” this morning and felt revitalized and “okay.” What I love to do is travel, wander, sample, taste, meet, float by, observe, contemplate, not go too deeply. A dilettante as Steven would say.

The School Where I Teach

The Plans of a Tumbleweed

We've really had a mild winter here, for which I am eternally thankful. Life here is hard enough without having to deal with the severe winter they often have. It really is amazing to think that the majority of people in the world live in very sub-standard situations where their basic needs are just barely met. And often even that is missing. While Armenia carries forward a legacy of "less than beautiful" architecture from the Soviets, still life was good here until about 20 years ago when the Soviet Union collapsed. It's humbling and scary to see how quickly a nation can deteriorate. I have been so blessed by my birthplace. May I never forget.

My work here is good. I love the kids! Give me a box of crayons, some paper and a roomful of impoverished kids and I'm a hero. I love to bring color into their lives. I'm supposed to be doing an English club (okay, we'll call it that - I speak English) but mostly we play with bright colors. I incorporate color wherever I can. Last week we made cards for our mothers for Women's Day. I had a little poem in English about how I love you Mom blah blah blah which they copied down then I had coloring pictures of flowers, birds, outdoor scenes that I had downloaded from the internet. I passed out bright colored markers and for an hour we were all engrossed in making the world a bright and beautiful place. I'll miss giving them that. Their lives are so drab. Our souls need color. I want to buy gallons of bright paint and run through town, splashing it on everything I see!

I'm having health problems that just won't quit so I've decided to leave Peace Corps. I get headaches and ringing in my ears that only happens here in Vardenis. I can't figure it out and neither can anyone else. A lot of people here (in Vardenis) say they have headaches and blame it on the altitude (6,500ft). Who can say? But my headaches and ringing ears are so severe that I really can't stand it anymore, even if I wanted to try to persist. So I'll leave Vardenis in a couple of weeks but will stay in Armenia until mid-April. Then I'll travel to Turkey and will meet friends from the US for 2-3 weeks. OmG what an incredible place Turkey is. Google images of Cappadocia, Pamukkale, Istanbul. Just incredibly beautiful and the history equally magnificent. All the places we read about in school as children! When my friends leave I'll travel around Turkey by myself until maybe early June. Then I'll travel to Turkey and will meet friends from the US for 2-3 weeks. What an incredible place Turkey is. Just incredibly beautiful and the history equally magnificent. All the places we read about in school as children! When my friends leave I'll travel around Turkey by myself until maybe early June. Then I'll either fly ($260 cheap!) or travel by land to Switzerland, where I have a friend and will have free lodging there for a couple weeks. (I'm such a bum) I will go by land if it's not too expensive. I'd like to take the train and bus up through Bulgaria, Romania, Hungary, Austria. I'll figure that out when it's time to figure it out. Then . . . . . . I have another friend who lives in Finland so Ruth and I will fly there (again cheap $300), visit with Sirkka for a week then will go over to St Petersburg, Russia for 2 weeks. There again (in St Pete) I will be able to do a homestay with relatives of my host family here in Armenia. My goal is to keep all my travel expenses under $1500/month, excluding my airfare home, and I think I can do it. Otherwise, you'll see my smiling face on your doorstep much sooner than mid-July. :o)

Of course I have no home to return to in Colorado so I may just keep on rolling. Many places in the US I haven't seen yet, many friends spread far and wide who I haven't seen in a long time and may visit. Who can say which direction a tumbleweed will roll next?

A Marshutney Ride

Riding the "around town" marshutney in Yerevan reminds me of the movie "Being John Malkovich." The marshutney is a van with 11-12 seats, including the driver's. But there are usually more than 20 people and their shopping bags stuffed in. The 10-12 who are standing must bend over. So we all stand there, staring at our feet, trying to get a glimpse out the window to see where we are at the moment and hanging on to whatever small thing we can find: a window edge, the back of a seat, another person's sleeve. Anything to keep us from falling into each other as we zoom around the corners.

Complex

I must find a way to deal with this dental situation. I must tell the Peace Corps doctor that I have serious concerns about some of the techniques this dentist follows. I simply cannot allow him to dive into my mouth and do thousands of dollars worth of work just because the coffers are open to any and all comers.

I'm about to have a freaking nervous breakdown all over the next person that crosses my path. Then of course Divine Providence hands me a marshutney mate like the one I had last night. He offered to trade seats with me on the long ride from Yerevan to Vardenis, giving me his "good" seat and taking instead the rickety stool I was sitting on in the aisle. He was clearly having a difficult time emotionally as we proceeded along our route. We had a little conversation - as much as we could with my halting Armenian and his halting English - but as we passed through one minor Hell to another he lifted his head from where it was resting on the back of the seat in front of him and said, "Armenia no good. America good, yes? Armenia no good." Good people stuck in a nightmare that they can't escape. Some of them go mad.

The Die is Cast

People are made stronger on realization that the helping hand they need is at the end of their own arm. ~ Sidney J. Phillips

Life must be an adventure for me, even if it's only in my mind. I've been listening to motivational tapes by Carolyn Myss and Eckart Tolle the past week. They pump me up, make me feel okay. I DON'T have to stay here and be miserable, trying desperately to find happiness. It's really is okay for me to go. I'm okay. :o) I just wish I could write about all these adventures I'm having in a positive way. Oh, yeah, I'm reading The Crossing Place again, about a man's journey to find the Armenian history. He traveled all over the region and had some miserable times and he writes about those too. He doesn't stay stuck or wallow in them, but when he's having bad days he writes about them. Another book by Colin Thubron about crossing Russia solo back in the 1980s. He traveled all the way down to Armenia then back north again. He, too, got more than fed up at times with the crazy thinking. So I'll try to write. This 9 month sojourn in Armenia has been all about me, let's face it. It's MY journey, MY spiritual journey. It's not really about saving the starving children of Armenia from their parents and teachers. That was just my cover. I had to have an altruistic cover to make myself authentic. I didn't have the courage to just jump into the Central Asian waters all by myself. Now I've been here I see that I can travel here as easily as I traveled throughout CA. I am so liberated. :o)

I'm now studying the map, preparing to travel through Georgia and over to Azerbijan. Then back to Turkey for several weeks. May take a jaunt down into Syria and Iran. I met someone from Iran this past weekend and he invited me to come visit, he will show me that his country is a wonderful place, not as we see on the news all the time. I'll be with another friend until near the end of April. When she leaves I'll turn north, travel through Bulgaria, Romania, Moldova, Ukraine, Russia. I'll meet my Swiss friend Ruth somewhere sometime around the first of July and she and I hope to travel in Russia and perhaps up to Finland, where I have another friend - another old friend of Steven's. I am feeling so good as I make these plans. Yes, yes, yes!!! :o)

March 5 ~
I had a dream last night. I dreamed I was in a place where, in order to reach my home, I had to pass through an underground tunnel-way. It was very crowded in there, there were pathway tunnels which broke away from the main branch to various private residences. Furniture and junk was stacked everywhere, making it difficult to move and find the correct way. It was dark and dirty and very frustrating. I kept losing my way and having to backtrack. Hey, Freud, even I can analyze this and it has nothing to do with sex.

Saying good-bye to people here is difficult. I've only told two volunteers so far. I must tell the Armenians I work with and tell them why. The people at the Y will be disappointed. I must tell the teacher who arranges my English club and I must tell my English club. The children had no expectation that I would stay forever, though they had hope. I'll make my last class a geography lesson, with pictures of my family too. The English club with the young kids is what I enjoy the most. But one hour a week can't sustain and overcome the other hundreds. Even if I expand to 4-5 hours a week. Not enough. I'm immensely unhappy in the moment. One might say depressed. Will it pass when I leave here?
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I suppose if the truth were known most of us are here under cover. Peace Corps is like the circus used to be - a chance to run away from home and all that is ordinary and to somehow re-invent ourselves. And of course it's never possible to be motivated by only one motive. We all of us want to make a difference in the world too, to ease the suffering. For some reason it seems, sitting in the warmth of our American homes, that it will be easier and more rewarding to travel across the sea.

I never wanted to come to Armenia in the first place. I didn't even know it existed. I wanted to go to Central America. I still do, and I will. But being here has been a fascinating experience for me too, one that will take me years to digest. I do understand that they are caught in the net of their culture. Interestingly, I find that my reasons to leave are more complicated than my reasons for coming. That in itself is interesting to contemplate. It's not going to be easy to tell the Armenians I'm leaving. I must prepare myself for that, find the words to put the decision all back on myself - the health issues, missing my family. But they'll know the truth too. That I'm unhappy. They'd leave themselves if they had a chance. There is so little future here. Most people just give up, sink into the drudgery of their everyday existence. The young men who came to our college for Peace Corps day - the "bad boys". Underneath their bravado I know that what they really wanted was just for a moment to be able to rub elbows with the Americans, to be temporarily diverted from the depression of standing on the street daily. They had a flicker of hope that they'd be noticed, that they'd find the magic escape formula too. But there were no answers for them, so they wandered back outside to ogle the young women and decide which one they would marry.

Maybe I lack the necessary self-confidence to complete a task as daunting as this. Maybe that's what it takes. I can't see that I make a difference or ever will, and I can't see that my suffering is worth it. Neither do I think that it's a good thing for me to be so unhappy. Even though I don't show this face to most people, it must seep out on some level. And it most certainly expresses itself when I get into stressful situations that I can't handle, such as this whole affair with my landlady. I'm not good at conflict. I wilt and turn it in on myself. And with the cultural and languages difficulties it just stays there. I can't release it.
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Then there's my health . . . . . severe headaches, ringing ears accompanied by ear aches just in front of my ears, depression, excessive tiredness, burning eyes. I think the broken blood vessel in the back of my eye was related to this. (The doctor said it was caused by pressure - but what was causing the pressure?) I was having severe headaches at the time and ultimately discovered that the house I was living in was only a few hundred feet away from a cell tower. All of this is very bizarre and it comes as a package deal. I think all of these are related to the cell tower (first) and to the bad electricity in general, EMS or Electro-Magnetic Sensitivity, but I have no way to prove it of course. The symptoms come and go. Sometimes I may not be bothered for a week or more, then it hits again. I am never bothered when I'm away from Vardenis. If it happens in the evening or when the weather is bad there's nothing I can do but curl up and endure. It usually goes away during the night and I wake up relieved. Which is another reason I think it's associated with the electricity. There's no draw on electricity at night.
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I've begun sorting through my things. I'm headed to Yerevan today so I'll take some of my stuff today - things I want to give away. I came with 3 pieces of luggage - two backpacks and a roller. I picked up another roller load of stuff while in the US in December. Most of that was teaching materials and art supplies which I'll give away. The main items I want to keep and send back are my computer and etc, portable radio, my sleeping bag, some winter clothes. I may be able to ship some of that from here or Turkey, though of course I can't ship my computer.

Early morning. Thinking time. I don't make this decision lightly. Leaving is not easy, but staying is more difficult. And difficult in a way that's not positive for myself or anyone. It will do no good to prove to myself that I can be totally miserable for two years, or that I can endure such health issues as I'm experiencing. My daily walks are surrounded by scenes such as these and my psyche just can't take it. I'm weak

But enough of early morning confessions.

God gives every bird its food, but He does not throw it into its nest. ~ J.G. Holland

I realize at this ripe old age of 64 that I'm pretty much stuck with who I am. To paraphrase Ram Dass, I've changed but not much. I'm stuck with my low self-esteem, my selfishness, my fears, my mouth, my addictions. I'm also stuck with my compassionate heart, my intellect, my open spirit. It's all such a long, long journey this thing called being human.

For me, right now, I'm running a marathon. I just keep pickin' em up and puttin' em down. Will I do the whole thing? At this point in time I must say I doubt it. It doesn't seem worth it. I have nothing that they don't already have. Like all of us, they cling to their culture and their past with a steel grip. The corruption here extends from the top of the King's crown to the tip of the peasants' toes. Perhaps corruption is too harsh a word. It's just the way of doing business.

I'm enjoying part of what I do right now. I'm leading an English club in an outlying village. This is totally outside my "job assignment", which totally doesn't fit me. I'm also putting together a project design workshop, which is fun.

In the final analysis, the biggest challenge is my physical health - the headaches and tinnitus. I'm stuck with that too. I want to be more, but I confess: I'm no Mother Teresa.

Vignettes

“Perseverance is the hard work you do after you get tired of doing the hard work you already did.” Newt Gingrich

Went well today. Yes, my reputation as a Super-Hero from A-Mer-EE-Ka carried the day. It was difficult though trying to speak Armenian all day long. The English teacher speaks English as well as I speak Armenian. It will be good for her too to be around a native speaker. The kids are so dang cute and they really put on their best for me. I will go out there once a week to work with the English teacher. She'll put together a group and we'll have some fun times.

I arrived at the school around 11am and was deposited in the teacher's lounge. Soon the English teacher came and collected me and I followed her from class to class. The heat throughout the building consists of one poor electric space heater in each room. Everyone wears their coat all day. I was fortunate to be able to sit by the heater to observe the class, but it was meager heat at that. New windows and doors have been installed in the building but other than that the surroundings are grim. Cracks in the walls that have been plastered over, paint chipping and worn away, floors either chipping concrete or unfinished wood. Chipping concrete stairwells with iron railings whose paint has long worn away. (Dang those Ruskies are good architects with an eye for aesthetics.) Very sparse decor on the walls. The teacher chalks and talks. I admire her energy. The book is poor. The 3rd graders were attempting to read a rather complex essay about Christmas. All in all they do amazingly well. One wonders how they manage to keep up their spirits in the face of the devastation around them and the lack of opportunity ahead of them. The human spirit is truly amazing.

These children clearly have different features than the average Armenian. They have come from the neighboring country for the most part. The faces are often more rounded, the hawk nose gone, freckles, blue eyes and blond hair appear more frequently in the crowd.
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Life's been being very "Business as Usual" around here lately. Hard to explain . . . counterparts who don't show up at the office for days, organizations that misappropriate donated funds, a general mindset that sees Americans as Cash Cows . . . . I lost it yesterday. I try to figure out how to just quietly go on doing life the way I do it, trying to change the ruling paradigms one person at at a time, but it's frustrating. I want to just scream sometimes: "Why can't you understand that if you conduct life this way it'll always be like this?" Then other times, like now, I become reflective and realize the forces that have molded this place and these people. So . . . . . . I tell myself, it's all about the children, it's all about the children. I must learn how to confront the culture openly and honestly without rancor.

Vardenis

Life is challenging here in oh so many ways. Before I came I thought it would be the broken infrastructure and rough living conditions that would push me to the wall . . . .

January 2010

"There are no foreign lands. It is only the traveler who is foreign."
- Robert Louis Stevenson

Amazing! 2010! And I can still remember like it was yesterday that everyone was freaking over the new millenium. And in 2000 whoever thought I'd be living in Armenia? Certainly not me. I had no idea where on the map Armenia was or if it was. Like most US Americans I would constantly confuse Armenia with Albania. Though somewhere haunting my memory was something terrible regarding Armenia . . . .